HAVING found the main roads kind of dangerous to pedal my bicycle (now I've reached the age where a bit of wobbling might occur) I've taken to the back streets where the only traffic one meets are prams.
Quite often, after the schools have taken the occupants and the older brothers and sisters for their educational needs, the back streets are almost deserted and quiet, except for the joyous yelping of some dogs and aggressive growling of others, in their frantic desire to tear you apart, if they could bash the back gate down. I know of one Rotweiller that must really have a hard head when he pursues his daily ritual against wood planking.
I love dogs. All breeds, big and small. I've only had one dog and that was many years ago during 1942 or thereabouts. When I found her she was in a dreadful state tethered to a stake. The wire had drawn blood and she was too weak to offer any defiance only to lick my hand as I was trying to give aid. Nearby were the cold remains of a fire and the tell-tale marks of cart wheels. But dismissing this out of my mind, I took her to the local vet for treatment. Much later, I collected her and she was cleaned up and back to health. She was indeed a Red Setter, her coat shone as likened to a polished Rosewood cabinet. With the rule "no pets" I had to keep it secret.
Free to run the countryside around the camp, Wanda -- her name bestowed by the girls of the ATS -- brought back a fat bunny to lay at my feet and gave a bark to announce her gift. After duty the next day she brought another and the die was cast, with the lads getting rabbit stew as part of their daily menu. The crunch came when the unit had received orders for embarkation -- definitely no animals. It was the last time I saw her. I've never had a dog since.
We hit it off from the first moment we met and she was a true friend and comrade during those wonderful months before the 'push'.
Edward G Hill
Wemsley Grove
Tonge Moor, Bolton
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