The dog lies in the middle of the road indifferent as an occasional car manoeuvres around it. Only once, when a driver honks, does it lift its head from its paws before settling again on the gravel. Is this what they have in mind when they call it a dog’s life? Whatever those words mean, it’s the life I’m living, I suppose, stuck as I am by this window, looking out this window at a dog, at a dog I don’t know, and asking which one of us will be the first one of us to get out of the…