Brisket wasn’t moving. Our French Bulldog earned his name because he presented as a big slab of meat that won’t be rushed, so not that unusual. But he also wasn’t eating. That was unheard of.
In fact, eating things he shouldn’t was a passion - and right before we’d left him and our cockapoo with my stepson as we headed for France he’d jumped on a table and eaten some cherries when we weren’t in the room. Not great, but he’d eaten other definitely-not-a-good-idea substances before, but he brought them up - so we thought his resilience would hold out. But we didn’t factor in the heat.
My wife and I boarded the Eurostar in St Pancras on the morning of the 17th of July 2022. It was her birthday. We were off to Crillon-le-Brave, a little hotel with a beautiful view of Mont Ventoux, where we’d spent our honeymoon years ago.
There had been several fail…
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