Snow more

Adjusting to life without a small dog

It’s a week ago tonight that we unexpectedly found our little friend dead in her bed. She’d seemed a bit out of sorts but having been happily grappling with a big stick earlier in the day as normal, we’d not been duly alarmed.

Snow was my first dog. Taught as a child to have a healthy respect for dogs, by the time I was an adult that had eventually translated into dislike, bordering on fear of them. I hated the way friends’ dogs invariably jumped up at me, drooled on me and so forth. I didn’t like the smell of dogs, their barking and pooing everywhere.

My son had always wanted a dog and when my partner was struggling with deep depression late in 2009, I had the crazy idea that maybe the solution might be to get a dog. I hatched a plan with a dog-loving close pal and neighbour. She fostered overnight our ‘therapuppy’ who we secretly collected on that snowy Christmas Eve. In the morning, shortly after stockings, she and her family arrived on the doorstep with that tiny puppy. None of us will ever forget the magic of that moment as the realisation dawned on Dan and Mark’s faces that this truly was to be their dog.

Naturally, she won my heart and transformed my life. I am now ‘a dog person’. What a companion she was. We have walked miles together and she was my guide countless times out horse riding, always making people laugh – on a long lead, seemingly pulling the pony along. This week has been hard, we miss her terribly, even the annoying habits as well as the good things and all I can think of is that there’s:

Snow more tail going like a propellor when she’s really pleased to see us

Snow more prostrating herself on the floor and dragging herself along in excitement when my Dad or Dan arrives to visit

Snow more high-pitched squeaking with delight when Mark gets in

Snow more taking up all the room in the bed between us in the campervan

Snow more barking at the ducks on the canal at Silsden or the river here

Snow more dicing with death trying to bite the horses’ fetlocks

Snow more getting accidentally locked in the tackroom

Snow more taking herself off to the stables by herself

Snow more popping across by herself to the neighbours for treats

Snow more bi-plane impressions carrying along impossibly large branches

Snow more seaweed shaking on the beach

Snow more little face turning round to check I’m still following through the fields

Snow more assistance with pre-wash plate cleaning following every meal

Snow more shouting her name around the countryside like some madwoman invoking winter weather while she has her head down a rabbit hole

Snow more white hairs all over the carpets

Snow more need for throws on the furniture to protect from muddy paws

Snow more Tom & Jerry style antics with the cats

Snow more barking at the postman, delivery man and anyone else who had the presumption to come to the door

Snow more dicing with death on the road outside

Snow more bounding into the bedroom every morning and snuggling down

Snow more snoozing in the office

Snow more taking up room on the sofa

Just Snow more Snow.