He's called Lucky
This week my heart is heavy. On Saturday, I lost my best friend. Fourteen years of love, loyalty and laughter. I can't yet really talk about it without breaking down but the wordsmith in me craves a written expression of my grief. Please bear with me - or dog with me, if you prefer. We called him Tucker for two reasons.: We had moved to our rural retreat after 12 years in the city centre (Edinburgh) only six months before we got him. As we got to know our fellow villagers, many asked which house we had moved into. When we described it, they said, 'Ah! Tuckers' Place.' It had been built about a hundred years ago by a family called Tucker. Then we went to the local DogsTrust to see if they had a dog for us. They had a great many dogs, all barking , scrabbling at their cages and pleading 'Take me!' In one big cage there were five noisy, in-our-faces dogs and one quiet, sad black dog sitting at the back. Total soft touches that we are, we immediately said ...