I had a lucky start with dogs. Actually I had a Lucky start with dogs. Lucky was the kelpie-basset cross my family adopted when I was about seven years old. The photos above show him with me at that time, and my younger brother. They’re the only photos I have from the terribly brief four years he was with us. He was lucky enough to survive a van crash when our furniture was being moved to a second town (he was riding with the drivers), but not lucky enough to pull through a painful calcification of the spine in a third town that lead to him being put to sleep when he was only about five. It was my first experience of deep loss and grief.
Twenty five years passed between Lucky and dog number two. Bondi. He was worth waiting a quarter-century. Just now I had Google+ throw up this sample of fifteen years of photos out of more than fifty thousand stored and uploaded in that period. In the only two without Bondi or Munson in the foreground, I know I had Bondi at my side. I’m also cheered that this selection also features Dougal, Legend and Tosca, all missed. The ratio of me to dog-hair is pretty accurate too.
Not a bad way to fill a life.