When our border collie Rosie died, my grey mare Lily boycotted the funeral. She stayed in her shed, refusing to participate in the proceedings just down the slope of her paddock, and only emerged once the vet had gone and Rosie had been buried. She appeared unsettled as she approached the grave, and then she tiptoed around it.

In the months after, I sensed that Lily missed Rosie, whose company she had enjoyed (despite Rosie’s annoying habit of playfully snapping at her bum whenever the opportunity presented itself). She had especially loved teasing Rosie, who devoted hours of each day to waiting outside the paddock for Lily to do something. Something exciting. Something chaseworthy.