We were getting ready to go to the cemetry first thing Friday morning to scatter the ashes under the designated tree when a horse pulled up outside the house, its owner dismounted and we recognised her as Claire who works at the local kennels from which we adopted Frodo years back (they provide overspill for a rescue charity).
I didn’t blog about it at the time because, well, it was a horrible time so to cut a long story short, last summer we had a visit from a BT engineer, a lovely chap and a dog lover. He and Frodo got on well as we chatted over tea for over 30 minutes, head in lap, ears being stroked, perfect.
Then we moved to the hall and discussed the ongoing internet/phone problem, the engineer stood making a call on his mobile to test the line when suddenly Frodo charged from the other end of the room, pushed past Martyn and I and attacked the engineer, biting him twice on the thigh and stomach. The poor man. He was understandably angry and muttered something about making a full report. After much soul searching we ‘phoned the rescue group, explained the situation and they agreed to rehome him. Yes of course we wanted to keep him but with the two granddaugters, then aged 3 and 7, it was just impossible. The fear that he might suddenly turn on them was too much to bear. And then cried for a week.
But Claire came with wonderful news – Frodo has joined the army, is doing really well and is one happy dog. And I’m one happy human.