I was a very lonely eight year old only child and my Father thought it would be nice for me to have a puppy. My Mother on the other hand was totally opposed to any dirty, smelly, demanding creature coming into her house. I don’t know how it happened but for once he won and that’s when ‘SPOT’ came into my life.

She was a white dog with four large black spots, hence the non too original name and I was ECSTATIC! At last I wasn’t alone any more… I had someone who just wanted to be with me, who listened to my jokes, shared my worries and was my best (and only) friend. For two weeks I was deliriously happy… and then the unthinkable happened. Spot became ill and after a visit to the Vet my Father introduced me to a new (but awful) word – Distemper.

He tried to warn me that it was not a very hopeful outlook but I of course, was convinced I would make Spot better, after all, if you loved someone enough one could surely make them well. It wasn’t until my Father returned from his latest trip to the Vet with only Spot’s blanket that the pain hit me. She had gone and so had a part of me – never again would I have a dog of my own – no dog would ever replace Spot… and so it was for forty-six years.

The picture (above) is the only picture ever taken of Spot…(and me)