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Warbling for bessie
it was a sad day for the forest dogs today, as we heard of the passing of a real village character - Bessie the dog, who lived a blissful and very long life on Church Lane. She was very old, but only last week I saw her gamely trot up to Ken Cook for her regular treat. She never let him get far as she always knew he had food somewhere on her person. Old yes, forgetful no.
As the owner of a hyperactive dog, I was fond of the very quiet and gentle Bessie, whose grey streaked fur always stood in a dazzlingly array of directions depending on how she'd been sleeping. And in the little group of canine friends, she was a source of calm and reassurance. She never barked, she never got territorial, just followed loyally on her old lady legs, probably rolling her eyes at the antics of her regular walk companions. "Ruddy youngsters," she must have thought, as they raced around.
She was one of the first dogs we befriended when we moved here five years ago, and she was such a trusting lass who always made it in the end. A proper lady.
My favourite recent memory of Bessie is seeing her determined little body taking a left, as we stood on the Rec trying to get her to take a right. She got there in the end. She didn't move fast often, but it was always with purpose.
Maybe not a glamour puss in her old age, but her keen black eyes, perky ears and salt and pepper fur set her apart, as did her perfect manners.
