I want to tell you about my best friend. Many of you will probably have met him as he was a regular at the "Coffee Pot" held in St. Mary's Church, Winterborne Stickland on Monday mornings. For those of you who don't visit the "Coffee Pot" I am talking about my dog, Levi.
We first met when I was visiting the RSPCA Rescue Centre at Bawtry in South Yorkshire. One part of the Centre was sadly nicknamed "Death Row" as this was the area that dogs who had failed to be re-homed were reaching the end of their six month life extension.
Levi had originally been seized by the RSPCA following a cruelty investigation in Leeds and after a three month stay there had been moved to Bawtry in an attempt to make him more adoptable. He had problems... He was a big, strong Labrador/Rottweiler Cross and had never been socialized, trained or had any other company – human or canine! People had tried to adopt him but all had ultimately declined when they couldn't cope with him.
When I first saw him he was dejectedly sitting in the corner of his cage. I stopped to say hello and he immediately came across to me, tail wagging, and pressed hard against the bars so that I could reach through and stroke him. After taking him for a walk I found out why nobody had adopted him before... He was strong! He had no idea how to walk on a lead and knew no words of command. Also he was really, really friendly and wanted to jump up and lick me all the time. Anyone smaller than me would have been crushed by him.We were instantly bonded. I didn't want to go home and leave him, and he didn't want to leave me.
The two weeks we had to wait to adopt him were agony but finally we could take him home. That's when the fun started...
I had to almost force him to come into the house; he'd never been indoors before. He didn't know how to play and had never had toys or a ball, etc. but luckily he was highly intelligent and within a few weeks was walking to heel and had picked out his own toys off the shelves in the local Pet Store. His favourite game was "Catch" but he never understood the concept of "Fetch". If I threw the ball too far away then I had to fetch it back, he would just sit and stare at the ball and then back at me.
Over the next few years he always came Mountain Walking with me and as I was a member of the Mountain Bothies Association he became a regular at Bothy Restorations and Workparties, one time hitching a lift with a RAF helicopter crew who were ferrying building materials up a mountain for us. Whist I was working he'd often go off with some of the bothiers to climb a peak or two. He's probably climbed far more Scottish and Welsh mountains than me...
He had his own climbing harness and a rucksack to carry his food and toys when we were climbing and had done many of the famous scramble routes in the Lakes, etc – always taking his Rubber Chicken toy with him (which the Mountain Rescue Team at Wasdale in the Lakes tried to get off him without success). He also had his own flotation jacket for when we were out in the boat, but he wasn't a good sailor. Whenever the wind rose above a Force 4/5 and the sea got a bit lumpy he'd try to get on my knee for comfort – trying to steer a boat in a storm with a huge dog on my lap was a little problematic...
After we moved to Dorset he was my constant fishing companion, barking excitedly every time I made a cast. The problem was every time I turned my back he'd eat my bait. He ate far more squid and mackerel than I ever managed to get on a fish hook, and it didn't end with the bait. If I wasn't on the ball with my catch he'd try to eat that too... It was a game to him, teasing me every time I caught a fish – unless it was fresh mackerel, which he loved, then the race who got to the fish was in earnest!
A few weeks ago we noticed a lump on his side that rapidly increased in size. The Vet took a biopsy and confirmed our fears; it was a Mast Cell Tumour – a form of cancer. We could have put him through painful operations and chemotherapy to try and prolong his life... but we'd already found other lumps developing on him.
He was still as happy and playful as he'd ever been so we decided not to put him though painful treatments for which he wouldn't understand the reason and could only guarantee him a few more months of life. We decided instead to make his remaining time as happy as possible until we noticed a change in his behaviour. That would be the time for him to make his final journey to the Vets.
His short fight against cancer ended last week! He's now buried "Neolithic-style" in the garden. He's in a pit dug into the chalk, surrounded by his favourite toys, bone, collar, lead, etc. and a mound raised up over his grave. No pain anymore, just rest for him and all the happy memories he's left behind for us.
Rest In Peace Levi, my best friend.
