I don’t know when Paddy was born as he simply turned up in our garden when he was about 3 months old. It was March 17th Saint Patrick’s Day so we called him Paddy. That was eleven years ago. Every day of those eleven years was filled with happiness. He hated rain and would sleep on a chair until it was over before he asked to go out. He wasn’t afraid of any other dog no matter how big but he was afraid of thunder. If there was a storm in the night I would wake to find him on my chest gazing into my eyes and wanting a cuddle. He loved wild places: long empty beaches and ancient forests. If these were not available he was content to lie belly-up on my bed and dream about them. Toward the end the only thing he wanted to do was go for drives in the car. I think it was his way of telling us that he wanted to be off; he had somewhere to go. I am glad that we did not lose him suddenly in an accident and that we were able to see him out surrounded by those who loved him. We will never forget him.
Frances
| Paddy |
| 13, April 2001 |
| Frances |