The modern garden has a history going back many thousands of years. Early humans were hunters and gatherers, and didn't usually stay in one place for a long time. Instead, they travelled from place to place following the food according to the seasons. During the Neolithic Period this slowly began to change; humans started to grow certain plants, which meant they could remain in one place and grow their own food. The first "garden" was a vegetable garden, where early humans grew different types of plants for food.

Early agriculture in Europe not only included edible（可食用的）plants such as wheat or lentils, but also included many decorative plants for other purposes. Plants for medicine were grown, as were herbs and spices for flavouring or preserving food. Certain plants also had religious or spiritual value and were grown not only because they were useful or edible. Growing plants not only for food was the beginning of gardening.

Gardens today are beautiful places to go and relax, but have had many purposes over the years. In the past, they were used in religious ceremonies such as funerals and weddings. They were also a way to show that their owners were rich or powerful. Ancient rulers created huge gardens to display their wealth, in the same way that large palaces were symbols of prosperity. In Roman times the garden became an extension of the house, representing the owner's status in society, rather than a holy place.

As gardens have developed, design and beauty have become more and more important. Humans have learnt to control nature and to design gardens carefully, like creating a work of art or a building. The Gardens of Versailles in France are an excellent example of“garden architecture"; everything is symmetrical（对称的）and even the trees are pruned to fit in with the design.

It seemed like it had only been a few years ago that Indigo had first rushed through our door. Her underbelly showed the signs of the litter she’d recently delivered. She had a nose for trouble. On one occasion, I had come home to find that she’d eaten a five-pound bag of flour. She was covered in white powder, and flour paw prints were everywhere, including, incredibly, on the countertops(台板). I asked the dog what the hell had happened, and Indigo just looked at me with a glance that said, I cannot imagine what you are referring to.

Time raced by. Our children grew up and went off to university. The mirror, which had reflected a young mum when Indigo first arrived, now showed a woman in late middle age. I had surgery for cataracts(白内障). I began to lose my hearing. We all turned grey: me, my spouse(配偶), the dog.

In August 2017, I took Indigo for one last walk. She was slow and unsteady on her paws. She looked up at me sadly. You did say you’d take care of me when the time came, she said. You promised, Jenny. She died that month, a tennis ball by her side. I’d owned a succession of dogs since 1964, each one of them a witness to a particular stage of my life. But with the loss of Indigo, all that was over. The days of my dogs, I now understood, were done at last.

But one morning, as I was passing the Bed ’n’ Biscuit in my car, somehow I pulled over. I could at least lay eyes upon one cute dog, a tiny sweet thing. What harm could it do? She had a soft face.

Not long after, I got a call from the Bed ’n’ Biscuit, our dog daycare(日托所). One of their customers was leaving, and her dog which was the one I saw that morning, Chloe, needed a home. Given our recent loss, they asked, might our family be interested in adopting her?

I told them that we were sorry but we wouldn’t be adopting any more dogs.

When Chloe entered our house, she was cautious, uncertain.