Florence

Today is the day I have been dreading, when we have had to say goodbye to our beloved Flossie. As readers of this blog will know, she has become increasingly frail recently, and today we reluctantly decided to call the vet out.

Florence was a very special girl (she never allowed anyone to use the 'B' word about her - she was a 'Lady Dog.') We had her as a rescue when she was about nine months old, but truth to tell we didn't rescue her, she rescued us.

The first time we met, she was cowering in the back of an old van, absolutely terrified. The man with her said I would have to take responsibility for her because nobody could control her. Actually, the moment he opened the rear doors of the van she flung herself at me, licking my face and generally begging us to take her home.

Nobody ever did 'control' Florence. She didn't need to be controlled as such, because she was considerably more intelligent than many people I've met in this life. She just needed to be understood. And loved.

She was edgy and nervous when we first had her. She couldn't even sleep. Mr Penry used to sing to her and we'd watch as she would go cross eyed and then finally fall asleep in a crumpled heap.

With her first owners she had become so neurotic about food that either myself or Mr Penry had to hand feed her for every single meal. And sometimes Mr Penry had to tell her stories... Flossie and the Pea became a minor classic, as did Flossie and the Barrage Balloon, Indiana Florence and Florence's Day Trip in a Rolls Royce.

When our last dog died Florence was devastated, so we bought a puppy (Ben) the next day to keep her company. She perked up a bit, bossed him about, but still we'd catch her looking listless and bereft. So we bought another pup, half expecting we would lose Floss and Ben would be on his own. With the arrival of her 'sons' Florence seemed to catch her second breath, and became a matriarchal figure. Sometimes we'd nickname her Boadicea.

With the arrival of Homer, she seemed totally content. Although Homer is a Bassett Hound and not a Saint Bernard, she took to him as though she had at last found her spiritual heir. In her final days Homer fussed around her, cleaning her, licking her paws etc. In returned she sometimes nicked his bed from under him while he was asleep. :)

They broke the mould when they made Florence. It was our privilege to have known her.