It is with a great sadness that I announce the death of Chuckles, my much loved dog. She passed away peacefully on 17 November 2015.
She was probably a Lakeland Terrier (mostly). Not much is known about her early life, she was adopted by my father at about the age of 18 months, towards the end of 2001. She had been found as a stray, very thin and scared, wandering by herself on bonfire night.
Whatever the difficulties of her early years, it did not dampen her enthusiasm for life. As a young dog she had seemingly boundless energy, and was something of a little hooligan. Her best friend was a young Beagle called Millie, whom she adored. They used to chase each other at breakneck speed around the town ramparts of Berwick-upon-Tweed, where my father regularly walked her.
She liked cats, although it has to be admitted that she also enjoyed chasing them. However it did not seem to be motivated by ill-will, but simply because it was fun. She lived for many years quite amicably with my father’s cat Min.
As well as chasing things, Chuckles cultivated an interest in chewing things; squeaky toys (which she enjoyed killing), and sticks. Unfortunately she never got the hang of fetch, taking the view that if you threw a stick away you could hardly expect to get it back again, and it was therefore hers. She was never much interested in balls, unless the ball belonged to another dog, or occasionally a golfer; then she would enjoy grabbing it and running off with it. She always had a keen sense of mischief, which made her a fun, though occasionally embarrassing companion.
She was also an enthusiastic scavenger, and adopted an “eat everything” policy towards anything even remotely edible that she found on her walks, no matter how disgusting it might look and smell. I won’t turn my reader’s stomach by supplying details. She never seemed deterred by the occasional tummy upset this caused her.
In later years, she calmed down a lot (as do we all), and took up sniffing things as her main interest, which she could do happily for hours on end. She still loved walkies, but at a much more sedate pace.
I know that my father loved her dearly, and she was a loyal friend to him in the last years of his life. Sadly my father died in March 2013, and I adopted Chuckles. She was a wonderful companion for me at a very difficult time, particularly when I was undergoing chemotherapy, when she was a great source of support. I had some of my treatment at home, and, in a particularly touching gesture, she would sit and guard me while the nurse administered the medication. It was very healthy for me to have a reason why I had to go out every day for a walk, even when I really did not feel like it at the time. More than anything, her presence did a lot to help me keep my spirits up.
There are some people (nasty, bitter and twisted people: people who don’t like dogs) who imagine that a relationship with a dog is just an inferior substitute for a human relationship: but they are wrong, I think that it is something unique and valuable in its own right, and can be very profound. Dogs have a joyful simplicity and directness in their response to life, they are masters of living in the moment. They give their love without reservation, with a glad heart. They can teach us a lot, particularly people who don’t like dogs.
So when I say that Chuckles was a good dog, I mean it as no small thing. As Dad once said of her, she was everything you could want in a dog, in a conveniently small package. She was a true friend, and I will miss her with all my heart.