“Summer’s lease hath all too short a date” (William Shakespeare)

AT our house, the season for re-arranging the furniture usually begins around the end of September, when the woods surrounding our house are a tapestry of colour — scarlet and ochre shot through with strands of purple heather — and the scent of fallen leaves hangs heavy on the air.

But this year, the process seems to be beginning a little earlier, and I find myself hoping — not for the first time — that this does not signify an early-onset winter. I’ve been imagining rather a lot of malign portents lately, such as the mysterious departure of the dreaded west Cork midge, usually with us here in the woods well into October.

This ceremonial re-arranging of the dog beds has been happening for several years now, and as far as I can make out, is a sort of canine version of feng shui.