Meg was our dog - a loving family pet who lived with us for 15 years. She died in
1995, an old lady with the rheumatics.
Meg came to us as a 6-weeks old puppy from the rescue kennel. A cross-breed, but
mainly collie. She was the runt of the litter. "Don't choose that one", I said,
"it won't have any character!". How wrong can you be? Ten minutes later we were
on our way home with this little mite in the back of the car with our two kids.
Because she was used to being bottom of the pack, she never expected anything and
was totally delighted when she received any notice. She had the perfect character,
- a ferocious barker at intruders (but would no doubt have licked them to death if
they had got in), yet totally loving and accepting of the kids and their friends,
however rough, and of anyone who was nice to her. In all her long life I never saw
her lip curl up at anyone, though her bark scared the postman a few times!
She bonded especially to Anne, my wife; but was a great companion to our two kids
as they went through their puppihood, - and I was useful in thunderstorms and fireworks
nights for a pair of legs to cower under!
She died in May 1995 and her ashes lie in a wild spot at the bottom of the garden
of our old family home, where she loved to nose around.
