When Blue passed over I decided I would wait for 12 months before I even thought about getting another dog.  I wanted to give him a properly respectful mourning period.  He deserved to stay long and fresh in my memory.  Also, I wanted to enjoy a period of freedom from those extra ties dog ownership places on you.  But the world had other plans for me.

Some how, word got round that a dog shaped vacancy existed in my household.  A dog sized bowl and bed were going to waste for starters.  And, even with three cats in the house, there was still plenty of room on both the sofa and the bed. So it was n’t long before I was invited to take in a little dog that was in danger of being put down if a new home couldn’t be found for her.  And when Darren, a former neighbour, brought me this little bundle of cuteness it was impossible to say no.

Darren and his partner Kate used to live just two doors from me.  But when their growing family got too big for the bungalow they moved three miles away to a family sized house in a village whose name has long been a source of much hilarity, Little Snoring.  It was while doing some garden work in Great Snoring that Darren encountered Penny a Norfolk Terrier cross Lhaso Apso.  She belonged to an elderly lady with a  terminal cancer who was anxious to find a new home for her pet before she passed away.  But poor little Penny had a terrible case of excema with flaking skin, red raw patches and lots of missing fur from her constant scratching.  The lady feared that no one would want her in that state and she would have to be put to sleep.  Darren told her he knew just the person.

When he came through my garden gate carrying this little ball of fluff it was pretty much love at first sight.  She has the head and face of a Norfolk Terrier, the curly tail of the Lhaso Apso and in between a stretched short legged body with a coat that manages to combine the softness of one parent with the coarseness of the other.  So a perfect cross.  Despite the obvious discomfort of her itchy skin she showed herself to be good tempered and friendly and unusually for a terrier, remarkably obedient.

She didn’t chase the cats and they didn’t chase her.  She was very interested in the chickens and guinea pigs but immediately moved away from them when told to “Leave”. In just a few minutes she was conspicuously looking the other way when ever she passed their respective runs. I’ve no doubt she will soon be completely at home here.

I’m so glad that Wednesday was such a beautiful day for it was the last day on earth of Blue, my dog and best friend for the last nine years.

Three weeks ago I noticed he was having trouble toileting. At the vets I smugly announced that this was the first time in his 10 year life he had suffered any kind of illness. All previous visits being for only his annual booster and check up. An exploratory operation and biopsy showed he had cancer in the bowel. There was really nothing to be done but to start palliative care. At first the pain killers did seem to give him effective relief but slowly I could see that he was suffering increasing discomfort. On Tuesday I decided that the next day’s prebooked visit to the vet to check his progress would be his last.

Ruth, the vet, told me he had been a good and brave boy for his operation but he had n’t liked the electric clippers that she used to shave off a patch of fur to find a vein to inject the anaesthetic. So I reshaved the patch for him with my own wet razor to save him that stress. On Wednesday morning it was clear that I had made the right decision. Blue was not waggling at the foot of the bed when I woke up. He was in the sitting room spread out on the sofa and though he looked up at me he did not move. It took a while for his pain killer to kick in but eventually he stirred and trotted outside to greet my partner, Tara, when he heard her footsteps coming up the garden path.

He had an extra pain killer after lunch and we all spent the afternoon enjoying the sunshine in the garden. About an hour before his appointment Blue shared an ice cream with his best friend, Teasel the border terrier, and afterwards got to lick out the tub which was always his favourite treat. Ruth was prepared for us. There were no other patients or people in the reception and waiting area and we walked straight through to the surgery. I lifted him onto the table and Blue enjoyed a three way cuddle from me, Tara and the nurse as Ruth took his paw. She found the vein first time with no fuss and began to inject the lethal drug. Blue’s last act was to turn his head to me and look me in the eyes. I bent to kiss him on the forehead and then he was gone. A sudden sense of loss swept through me and my eyes filled up with tears as I clung to his now lifeless but still warm body as Ruth checked him over and administered a second dose.

Tara and I laid him to rest in my garden in a grave dug good and deep so his bones are unlikely to ever be disturbed.

Blue was a rescued dog. His first owners were an elderly couple who beat him and left him alone and locked in their flat when they went on holiday. A friend, who was making a delivery, discovered him terrified and hysterical, broke in and carried him home. For a year he worked hard rehabilitating and training Blue. Too hard for the comfort of his partner who jealously issued the ultimatum: “either the dog goes or I do.” That is how Blue came to me and I certainly got the best end of the bargain. He never lost his dislike for old men with walking sticks or a fear of being shut in. When I went out without him, which since I started motorcycling has been all too often, I had to leave my back door open so he could wander freely into the garden. It’s going to be hard for me to learn to lock my doors again.

A German Shepherd X Border Collie I often suspected that Blue’s IQ was probably higher than my own and it was only his good nature that allowed me to think I was in charge. There was n’t a malicious bone in his body and in all his life he never harmed another living soul. He did have his moments of over exuberance. Once he caught a rabbit in the woods at Felbrigg and he caught and carried off a duck behind the Great Hospital (founded 1249) in Norwich. But it was just in fun and he released both quite unhurt.

He looked a little wolf-like and some people were a bit intimated by his appearance. But I always assured visitors that they were more likely to be bitten by me, a pacifist quaker, than by my dog. He was a true Friend with a sweet nature. Eager to love and quick to forgive. Everyone who met him loved him, even those who at first thought him frightening. He leaves behind a large and sorrowing fan club.

I know there will be a Blue shaped hole in my life for some time to come but I feel blessed to have shared so many years with such a beautiful spirit.

Have you ever thought about why people bother to keep cats as pets?

I did just the other morning. It had been a rather damp night of the kind that brings out of hiding the many slugs and snails that inhabit my garden. I live with four cats and it is their habit to have me feed them first thing in the morning when I get up. Breakfast had been served and consumed and the furry ones had taken themselves outside, presumably to engage in their favourite activity of nature study.
With my first cup of coffee of the day in hand, I followed them. Standing on the step of the back door I looked out on my neglected and pest-ridden garden and three of the cats who were sitting, a few feet apart, in a line alone the path. Creeping around them on the still damp flagstones were dozens of snails.

Those cats, I thought, spend much of their day terrorising the local wild life. Killing birds, mice, voles, shrews, moles, rats, rabbits, anything they can get hold of really. But the pests that do real damage i.e. slugs and snails (especially snails) they ignore. So why do I keep them? What are they for?