She wore elbow length, black, leather gloves and a pair of black, leather, knee-high boots with a low heel. She was holding a tray. ‘Hi, pup...y,’ she cooed. ‘How’s my good boy today?’ ‘Good, Mommy,’ I replied. ‘Oh, good,’ she said, crossing the room and setting the tray down on top of my cage. She picked up a key ring from the tray and unlocked the trapdoor in the top of my cage. When I sat up on my knees, I was just the right height to stick my head out through. It couldn't be helped, thought Tom as he made for the door, it was just too risky to let them outside. He didn't like the idea of going out there himself but they needed food and he had put it off for too long already. He set the latch to bolt the door behind him and pulled it closed until he heard it click in place, then hurried down the front path to head for the nearest supermarket. Tom knew to keep his eyes down and his ears sharp as he made his way to the mall where the supermarket was. Skipper resumed the role of ringmaster.“Caitlin, do you recall the first fantasy that didn’t involve your husband?”“Well, the next one I formulated sort of did and didn’t have him in. His parents were reasonably well off, very comfortable by my family’s standards, and they paid for us to go to Paris on our honeymoon. Paris was decadence, so far as I could tell, but up until that point I’d only ever seen the little village on the Irish coast, where I was born, and Sheffield, when I came here to. The dog would lead me to a brand new life. I liked the dog well enough but I was living a quiet life with few responsibilities and was reluctant to add any. I did take her in of course, it was his mother or the pound and there was little difference there. The dogs name was Sally and for a basset she was a bit small with a soft longish coat, blonde and white hair. She did very little vocalizing of any kind and was content to lie about all day just enduring life between meals. She was five years.