I have written some short pieces about my dog already. Here is another. This is Macgregor at his very best.

Macgregor was always a very friendly dog. His instinct was to befriend anyone, human or otherwise, and this has always ben tempered by a very fine pair of gnashers. These teeth would not look out of place on a dog twice his size. When he approaches, other animals and small children shrink, thinking he is baring his teeth. In fact he is smiling, proven by a simultaneous furious tail flutter.

Once he’d made friends, everyone tended to bow to his leadership qualities. As indeed did Babs. She was a collie with a typically highly strung temperament who was almost twice his size yet treated him with suitable deference. He would wander down the road to Fisher’s Farm each morning. There would be a furious display of affection, sniffing and general mayhem. Once done, they would go for a promenade together.

They walked as far as the farmhouse at the end of the road, to say hello to the labradors there. Then on to the View to see a cocker spaniel, up to the other end of the road to Brookside, to meet up with a Heinz 57, then back home again. Their walk was always circular and always done in a strict rotation, as if hierarchical. On other occasions, Macgregor would make this trip alone, usually after a haircut. As you will see from his picture, he was an exceptionally hairy dog, and so needed clipping at regular intervals. When he was, he always took himself for one of these walks. This time in reverse, starting with Babs and the Heinz 57 (who live opposite one another) first… Macgregor would strut back and forth about five or six times, as if to say, look at me! How smart am I? How handsome? And it was true! He looked gorgeous! Rather like a rather better kept (for that read less unkempt) miniature Fox Terrier!!

One Saturday morning, early, about 5.30, Macgregor went mental…biting the front door, barking, throwing himself at it…Eventually, after enduring this appalling racket for over an hour, I got up and let him out. He charged up the drive, just as fast as his legs could take him, and disappeared around the corner out of sight. The house awoke properly about 3 hours later, to a deafening silence. Macgregor was not at home. And he did not return….

Eventually, around 11, our curiosity piqued, we went in search of him. We did not need to go far. He was about 60 yards up the road, to one side of it, lying next to his beloved Babs. She had been hit by a vehicle and was clearly dead. Macgregor was lying next to her, with his chin on her paws. He was not howling, but he was crooning…a low, mournful dirge for her. Every so often, he would stop and nudge her muzzle, as if to breathe life back into her. As if to persuade her to wake up. If anyone went close, us, Michael (Babs’s owner), he would growl softly to warn us away.

They lay like that side by side, for the entire day. Cars came and went. Macgregor did not move a muscle. One beady eye watched, as they pulled around them, but he kept his vigil. At about 8.30, he got up from where he had been lying and barked until Michael came out of his house to fetch her. Then with one last nudge of her muzzle, as if to say good bye, he walked back home.

For the next week, he was very sotto voce. He returned each day to sit next to the exact spot where she had lain when she was knocked over. He sat quietly there for the entire day, then just came home and lay down in his bed. He mourned for her for a week.