It was dark, stars hidden by dense dormant clouds. The faint glimmer of a full moon touched the far edges of the night sky and broken streetlights buzzed as their globes struggled to stay alight. Distant cars hummed along the streets, a thin reminder of people. Time and I stood still while I summoned the strength to make my way home after work, my feet heavy on the path.

My feet weren't the problem, it was my 16-year-old mind in the dark. Across the road I stared at the tree-lined street where my building was shrouded in a foreboding cloak of my own imaginings.

I took a quiet breath, stepped forward from the shallow light into the darkness. Another few steps and I stopped. Did I hear something? Did I see a distant movement? Again I moved silently, all the while imagining the eight stairs yet to come, the turn to the right and the long dark walk past five doors that led to my tiny bedsit.

I grabbed the cool metal railing for courage, then halted. This time I did see something and it was right beside me. I froze. I dared not look. The moment I turned my head, a wet nose nudged my hand. I let out a breath. The nose belonged to a big black dog. He looked up at me with understanding and we began to walk. As we approached the stairs he stepped in front, turned his head and stared at me.

‘Ok, boy,’ I said, 'I’ll follow you'. Together we climbed. At the top of the stairs he turned right and walked on until he stopped in front of my door. Key in hand and with the door now unlocked, I flicked on the light and stepped inside. I turned around to thank my new friend with a pat, but he was gone.

Was he really there? He was, and he still visits me in times of fear or sadness. I feel him next to me, a soothing memory in my mind to offer comfort, reassurance and a gentle cool nose upon my hand.