Birthdays and good times

Today is my birthday -

and we spent the morning at Fish Hoek with the spaniels and Omie Domes.

I am now eight years old! And I don't feel a day over two.

But it is also the day Dougal died - a whole year ago. Often, like when Laddie and I are digging in his favourite places for moles, I still miss him ...

and read the memorial plaque that the Alph put up near his grave.

But I remember the happy times we had together. This is him as a puppy with Sam, the Labrador I never met.

And with Tombi, the snauzer I never met either.

I think Doogs always thought he was a Labrador as Sam was his hero. 

This is him before his first hair cut - on one of his first walks in the fynbos.

And on the beach.

Then I came along in 2006 ...

and his life was never quite as peaceful again. But we had some amazing times together -

 

hunting in the fynbos,

barking ferociously at the neighbour's dogs,

chasing squirrels at Groot Constantia,

and making friends at Suiderstrand - although Doogs wasn't really the friendliest of dogs.

But he was my very best friend and I still miss him terribly. Rest in peace my beautiful brother.

Remembering Doogs

The first photo Simon took of Dougal. March 2003. Simon wanted a scotty because he rather liked the Mendelsohn's scotty, Macky. So Odette put the Food Lady in touch with Lila Roberts, and Dougal came into their lives. (Then me, three years later.) 

Dougal playing with Sam.

"Me and mini-me." Tombi looking on in disgust.

Wrestling with Sam.

Sleeping on the Food Lady's hiking sandals.

One ear up.

Playing with Tombi

Diggy earns his nickname.

Fighting with the soccer goal net.

Watching Sam. But Dougal always hated water.

With Simon.

With Phil. Digs looking a bit shaggy before his first hair cut.

After the first hair cut - and about to roll in the garden to get comfortable again.

Happy times.

 

 

Finish for always about Dougal and me and all those times

I am a bit bewildered at the moment. Dougal, my friend and big brother has gone. He was breathing badly in the night and I called out to the humans to come. They did, and tried to help him, but he was panting and panting and the Food Lady put him in her bedroom. I got on the bed and then Dougal tried to get up too and the Food Lady lifted him and we all tried to comfort him but he breathed and coughed worse and worse and then he lay still and there was lots of crying. He lay and lay and didn't get up, and then the Alph covered him and wrapped him in soft blankets and they carried them to the kennel when it got light, but there was no Dougal there anymore, just a cold body. They dug a big hole near the shed where Dougal and I go hunting for lizards, and put the empty body inside and covered it up. I don't understand. I tried to call to him to run to the garbage truck coming up the road, or to chase the pesky Jack Russell from down the road away, or to shout rude words at the postman's motorbike, but no Dougal came and I don't know where he has gone.

Dougal walking with the Alph on Table Mountain.

I am like Boots, the Scotty in my best book Thy Servant a Dog when his hound friend, Ravager, goes to sleep and doesn't wake up and Harry with Spade "digged and put under like bone." Boots says "Please, this is finish for always about Ravager and me all all those times. Please, I am very small mis'able dog ! ... I do not understand ! ... I do not understand. !"

The Food Lady suggests you read this poem on the blog, but I don't understand it becuase she and the Alph and our two human brothers gave us their hearts and we don't want to tear them, its just that we don't live as long as them. I just do not understand ...