It's wrong of her to want to fix this, but she does. If only she had the right words, surely she could do something about this. She could erase years of hurt, bring fond memories to the surface, have the dog smiling. It hurts to see someone love so hard and so long that it turns to loathing, to see the space that used to fit a person rub and chafe until all that's left is festering blisters.

But it's not her place. She doesn't know the full story and, more importantly, she's been asked not to.

"I've never been in your situation," she says, as if by feeling out the shape off the words she can shape out the feelings. "When I left my father, it was less abandonment and more deliberate escape.

"But even then, after I'd done my best to make sure I'd never see him again, I still built myself around him. I still shaped myself by what he wanted me to be, still craved the approval he'd never give me. And it wasn't until I was dragged into this that I could meet other people, and find other sources of love.

"It kind of sounds like you could keep talking to yourself. But I've been there, and it's lonely."