Life with an old dog is, on the whole, quiet and orderly. Losing an old dog is losing an old friend, the grieving process is painful. China and I had shared so many events,some happy, some very difficult. Last winter George became very ill and departed for the County Hospital in an ambulance six days after we moved house. For six weeks China and I lived on a building site, travelled daily to the hospital twelve miles away and lived on a diet of take away food. She was there for me come rain, come shine, always loving, never complaining. I shared all my secret thoughts with her knowing that nothing I said would shock, nothing would be repeated. I knew that she could never be replaced but equally I recognised that for me a canine companion is essential and I promised myself that when the day came I would find another companion as quickly as possible.
It only took two weeks to find Sky. I trawled the internet and found a photograph of a deerhound, greyhound, collie cross bitch, dark brindle and only two years old. No longer is our household quiet and orderly. This is a dog who requires toys; toys to toss and catch, toys to chew and toys to share in a tug of war. She provides endess amusement for George and plenty of exercise for me. Already she has become my constant shadow and has made herself completely at home.
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