LITMIR.BIZ

      He seemed to revel in the cold December mornings, when we could all see our breath and had to dress ourselves in layers of warm clothes. On days like that, as soon as he was let off the lead he’d be off in a blaze of white on white – like the flash of a camera, everything a bright reflection of white fur and snow except for his flying orange ears.

      Sometimes, in his eagerness to get outside, and especially if he thought there was the slightest danger of him being left behind (there wasn’t, of course), he would hurtle out of the front door and be suddenly taken by surprise by the slipperiness of the ice. He’d be moving so fast that at least one paw at a time would skid and slide under him. It was, I would think to myself, lucky he had four legs, or he’d be falling over all the time.

      But soon it was time for us to head home. Christmas was only three days away – Arthur’s first, and Thor’s first too – and there was a lot to do.

      When we got back, Helena was in the sitting room with Philippa and Thor. They were gathered round our first ever advent calendar; two stuffed toys called Mr Moose and Mr Deer, who were both dressed with special little Christmas gifts. ‘Only three more days to go – there, look at them.’ Helena was guiding Philippa’s hand to the last remaining presents. Chuckling with delight, Philippa opened a gold parcel.

      I watched them all, mother and daughter holding each other close and talking cheerfully about their favourite present and what games they were going to play, Thor sleeping and Arthur looking on, just content to be with his family.

      It was a happy time, but sometimes it was hard to conceal my nagging worry. Brazil had been tough, as tough as any race I can remember, and our results had reflected that with an overall finishing position of ninth in the world.

      That had not been good enough for Peak Performance, and just a week before they had announced that they were withdrawing sponsorship from the team. It was a blow. Not an unexpected one, but a blow for all that. We had used their sponsorship and our own money to fund the – substantial – costs of the race, and without a sponsor for future races we were going to have to either think of some way to earn money to pay back the debts, or find new sponsors fast. As a professional athlete I don’t have that many options open to me. Generally speaking, Sweden is a tough place in this respect: if you are a very able athlete you get to go to college and do your sport, and are hugely encouraged to be the best you can. But that’s all you do – you don’t, unlike in the US for instance, complete another degree that you can fall back on when the sports stops. And, in most sports, you tend to have to stop relatively young. That’s why life can be very, very hard for some Swedish athletes after they’ve peaked.

      So I knew that January was going to be hard for us, and it also didn’t help that I was nowhere near physically recovered from the Brazil race. It always took me a while to get over a championship race, and I was still weakened by the sleeplessness and exhaustion of those seven days.

      Then I looked over at Arthur, lying on his bed with his head on his paws, and thought about the book that we’d been asked to write: the story of Arthur and me. It was wonderful that people wanted to know more about him, and about how we’d found each other, and it was a fantastic distraction to be working on the book and reliving those moments in the jungle.

      I looked at Arthur as he concentrated hard on licking his front right paw. In a way, I thought, he was now helping me, just as I’d helped him.