This weekend was particularly sad for me, but to understand just how sad and why, I have to go back a little.

First of all, I want to tell you about my dog. She came to us 13 years ago as the runt of the litter, and right from the start she seemed to have a charisma about her. She was also a born nurse. Just after she arrived as a puppy, I got sick and had to go back to my mum to recover, and the whole time I was there she never left my side. She cuddled right into me when my fever was causing me to hallucinate.

Fast forward 10 years and I am moving to London. In the interim, my mum has gotten divorced and escaped an abusive (mentally) marriage. She came to live with me, but when I got an offer to move to London I had to leave my mother on her own. But that was fine, because I know our dog would look after her.

On Thursday morning, at 1am, I got call from my mum in an incomprehensible babble. Through her tears and cries, I heard the word "dead" and initially my thoughts turned to my Grandma. AS it was, my dog had a massive heart attack and died. My mum was distraught. For a long time, our darling dog had been her companion and her friend. When lonely nights closed in, they were a team.

And of course, I felt less guilty for leaving.

I got the first train I could up from London (London is approximately 2.5 hours from my hometown). My mum was obviously devastated and Paya and I have spent a lot of time trying to pull her through.

Combined with the stress of work at the moment, extra trips home mean that I will not have much spare time. At the start of last week I was in Vienna. I was in Belgrade at the end of October, and possibly will be there next week. I have spent over 30 hours in the last 3 weeks on planes, trains or other transport.

All this does nothing to ease my guilt that my mum is now alone.

West