In rusted collars and empty chairs, I still live with my beloved ghosts

Mindfully curated possessions evoke the most potent memories of those who have gone. Two specific objects bring me particular comfort – though I never stop too much to ponder why

Sometimes it seems like my world is inhabited by ghosts, such are the remnants and reminders of past lives all around me.

The dead dogs are everywhere. On a coatrack on the hallway wall just near the front door outside my study hang their sun-bleached and harbour-rusted collars and leads, memorial stalactites to much-loved animals who’ve never really left us. Their tags are clipped on the fridge, and one is screwed into the tree in the backyard under which its wearer is buried.