Pets that have enriched my life

When I was about 9 years old, my adult cousin gave his widowed mother, my aunt, a dog for company. Her name was Clancy, and he chose her out of all the dogs in the dogs'home because she was among the next on the list to be put down due to overcrowding. She was such a nervous little dog, terrified of men, but very fond of children. She had a 'shy Di' way of looking up at you and when she was happy, would bare her teeth in a big grin! As my aunt was sometimes away from home at night due to work, Clancy spent a lot of time staying with us, as she was getting on in years - my begging had something to do with it too. We had no dog of our own at that stage.

One time, she had a little 'accident' indoors, and I told her off in my bossy pre-teen way. Soon after we realised she was missing, and the hunt was on to find her. Half the street came out to help, and we eventually caught up with her about a mile away, plodding along with her head hanging down. Needless to say the fuss she received after was enormous and I felt like the world's most horrible person for being the cause of her running away (to this day I still feel guilty when I think of it).

We lived at the time in an upstairs flat and having no car, would walk the couple of miles from my aunts house to our home with Clancy when she was having her 'sleepover' with us. Unfortunately as she got older, arthritis set in and she went to live with my cousin's in-laws who were retired and at home all day with her and their own two dogs. We so missed having her to stay and when we moved, my sister and I badgered mum until she finally gave in and we got a dog of our own.

Clancy developed cancer and it was decided to put her out of her misery. We wept buckets of tears and I'm shedding a few more now as I write this thinking about her and all the fond happy memories I have of that little black dog who was once unwanted but came to be loved so much by us.

 Luke came in to our lives when I was 15. We adopted him from the National Canine Defence League- now renamed Dogs Trust- and my first sight of him was cannonballing down the footpath towards us barking excitedly, knocking the breath out of each of us in turn as he jumped up and down, having a good sniff and so on. Then he ran up and down the stairs three or four times before finally calming down. We were told that he had been found locked in a house with two other dogs, all starving, and when a neighbour finally realised they had been abandoned there, he put food through the letter box for them until help arrived. The other two dogs were in such a bad state they had to be put down, but Luke was a battler and he pulled through. Now he was coming to live with us.

He would be so full of joy when he saw his lead being taken off the hook. He wasn't a very big dog but, my goodness, he had the strength of half a dozen men when pulling on the other end of that lead. He adored fuss from passersby and was quite a celebrity in our area. Christmas was his favourite time of year. We would wrap his presents and put them under the tree along with everyone elses and he would have a great time christmas morning, pulling all the paper off his new toys and treats.

Three years later I left home but still said hello to luke on the phone during my weekly call home. I never visited without bringing him a present. In 2000 the rest of my family moved to Ireland where I was living, and Luke came with them. He stayed with me and my three dogs as I was living out in the country. He was getting old by now, about 13 years old and I have to say he never really settled. I think he missed his old walks, his routine, and having always been the only dog in the house, now there were three others to contend with, which probably put his cute little nose out of place a bit too.

The biggest regret of my entire life is that one day, after living with us in Ireland for about ten months, he went on to the road and was hit by a car. He had never wandered out before, didn't like going far as he was losing his sight but this day he must have just lost his bearings. I howled like a banshee at the side of the road where he lay, not a mark on him, and I lifted him in my arms and took him back to the house where I continued to hold him for hours, weeping into his fur. He is buried in the garden, the first occupant in a pet cemetary that has grown over the years, now including other much loved pets and even a wild rabbit once found injured, but beyond saving.  

 Claudius (named after a barman I know) was an enigma. I had owned guineapigs before him and years ago at school there were a couple among the other class pets - all were very alike; nervous, quiet little things. Not Claudius.

One day he was having a runaround in the sitting room and I realised suddenly, with horror, that I had forgotten to close the room door.The back door was open and the dogs (other dogs; they deserve a hub of their very own) had been coming in and out. I ran into the room expecting a bloodbath before my eyes but no, there was Claudy sitting in the middle of the floor, staring intently at the television. A quick check outside proved there was one dog, Lucky, unaccounted for - I eventually  found him  cowering under the couch, with a spot of blood on his nose. I had to drag him out from under there and then he tore out the door as fast as he could. It appeared that Claudy was having none of his sniffing and prodding and fought back, biting the dogs nose and drawing blood. This was a dog that had chased and killed rabbits frequently ( and got into trouble for it!)  when he first came to live with us. He wouldn't enter a room afterwards if the guineapig was in plain sight.

When we went on holidays Claudy would go and stay with my sister, who has cats. They adored him and he and the cats would often sit cuddled up together in front of the fire, the cats grooming his fur ( I swear I'm not making this up).

Once he managed to electrocute himself when he chewed through live wires. He had burn marks on the flesh of his little footsies. He had a habit of climbing up the cushions to get to the back of the couch and he'd sit up there for ages, watching everything going on. Sometimes he'd sit on my shoulder nibbling my ear while I'd be watching tv or reading a book. 

He eventually died aged five and a half in his sleep. He's buried in the above-mentioned pet cemetary and is missed as much as anyone else I've ever lost.