Tim Dowling: who is the secret admirer leaving gifts for the dog?

Soft toys and furry things keep appearing in the garden. I wouldn’t rule out the fox at this point

After weeks without rain, the garden has turned a uniform beige. Whole shrubs have perished in the unrelenting heat, their crisp brown leaves disintegrating in the breeze. In the middle of the scorched lawn lies the prone body of a large dead bird.

On closer inspection, it appears to be a stuffed toy fashioned into the form of a limp duck carcass. When I open the back door for a closer look, the dog steps out between my legs, picks up the bird and carries it inside. It was clearly made with dogs in mind.