Sunday, 16 October 2011

A Tribute

I’ve been absent from blog-world* because my dog died a week ago today :0(    And I don’t do emoticons in formal work, so you know I’m truly sad and lost.  Her name was Kye and she was a collie cross with a lurcher-cross-Alsatian – which makes her sound like a bit like a chimera, but she wasn't - she was lush: collie-sized and collie-eared, with a soft but wavy coat like a lurcher, and the muzzle and bark of an Alsatian.  She was 12 years old and had suffered a series of strokes in the last 6 months – and the final one was at 6 a.m. last Sunday.

Anyone who has a pet knows how they fill your home with their presence and personality – and anyone who has lost a pet knows how empty and less home is without them.  I shan’t bang on about how upset my dad, his girlfriend and I are (because it's self-explanatory to any animal lover) – instead I’d like to celebrate Kye with a tribute.      

Kye – the softest woofer in the west

You were russet red like a fox when we first saw you, nosing against the fence at the RSPCA, begging to come home with us.  Little did we know your coat would darken so much as the years passed – or that you’d still be begging us to come home, yapping like crazy each time we went out!  But without you, Kye, I’d still be terrorised by the sight of a dog [and yes, it really was that bad] – your loving, placid and docile ways melted any hesitation I had, burning away any remaining fear like the sun over morning mist.  Your amber eyes longed for constant attention, and you were never happier than when being smoothed or fussed or talked to...except in your younger days, when your ball or bone was a constant playmate, and you’d get so excited that a volcanic tremor would pass through your body as you shook yourself, excitement like lava uncontained.

We nicknamed you Miss Barker, for you were rather vocal...but then, so am I, so we were a right family pack!  And just like Dad, you were fair-weather: hated the rain (though when wet, your fur would go all cute and crinkly, as if I’d crimped it - lush!), and didn’t like going out in the cold and dark.  We all love a good treat, and your favourite was a bit of yoghurt, the creamier the better; like a canine Winnie-the-Poo, you'd snuffle your snout right down the the bottom of the pot, licking it clean.  You always made us laugh when you did this; and we'd marvel at how, when eating normal, boring dog-food, you'd sniff each biscuit out from the other and eat them one by one, as if saving the best till last.

Our cats loved you too – Cleo would curl up in the chair with you, no matter how much room there wasn’t; and Gizmo would hunch up, all big black eyes and mischief, waiting to pounce on you as you came trotting in from the back garden.  You and Giz missed Cleo when she passed, and now Giz misses you too.  We all do.

I thank you, Kye, for your love, devotion and quirks – there will never be another dog like you.  Enjoy playing with Cleo up there in the big blue endless sky – I’ll see you there someday.  Love you always.

*Hopefully, normal blog-service will resume shortly  – as you can understand, I’ve lost my way with writing recently, what with the laryngitis-debacle and now losing my dog; but it’s 3 weeks till my Paris trip and thus the research-beginning of Novel Number I must get myself together!


  1. Sorry about Kye, hope you feel better by the time you go to Paris, I look forward to hearing about it, Claire Sidhu

  2. A fab and deserved celebration for Kye. I'm glad I met her as she helped me too, with my dog scaredy -ness. Your tribute is so you and well written. Love the title, softest woofer in the west, genius! Hugs Zo x


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