Free The Dog With Nine Lives by Della Galton Page B

she had to come out to do her business. Being near a human was obviously very traumatic for her, but fortunately she took to Lindy instantly and very soon the two of them were inseparable.
    Lindy showed Rosie the ropes of the house, just as she’d done with Max. She showed her where the sofa was and how to curl up so tightly no one would notice you were on it. And also, as Rosie grew more confident, how to make yourself floppy and heavy so no one could throw you off.
    Lindy taught Rosie that my office at the top of the house was a great place to be during the day – Lindy had her day basket under the fan heater on the wall. Rosie began to curl up with Lindy so I took another basket upstairs, but generally Rosie preferred to snuggle up close to Lindy so in the end I just got them a bigger basket.
    Lindy also taught Rosie to follow me around, and so I had two shadows instead of one. I’m not sure if she also taught her how to empty the bin while I was out of the room or whether Rosie worked that one out for herself, but I would often find the pair of them sitting amidst shredded chocolate wrappers, which had hitherto been in the bin, when I got back to my desk with a cup of coffee.
    Not that I sit in my office and eat chocolate all day, you understand!
    Rosie was similar to Lindy in lots of ways. Both of them liked to hunt rabbits, although Lindy wasn’t up to chasing them very far these days. Both of them had selective hearing when they were doing something ‘very interesting’ both of them liked to be a field or so away from me on walks. Both of them liked their home comforts and were big foodies.
    Rosie couldn’t have had a better mentor. I still worried about Lindy. I fretted that her haemolytic anaemia or her cancer might recur but neither disease had showed itself, although she did give us one or two more health scares. In late 2008 she went off her food again and she would, on occasion, become quite distressed, licking the ground and eating grass. She also had terrible wind.
    We consulted a homeopathic vet who diagnosed a digestive problem. She suspected Lindy might be intolerant to cereal and advised us to switch to a dog food which didn’t contain it. I did as she said and to my great relief Lindy improved immediately. But in the back of my mind there was a niggling doubt that we might not have her for too much longer.
    She was quite grey around the muzzle now and I had a feeling that because she’d had such a bad start in life and because she’d had such major health problems she might not live to be a very old dog.
    This might sound a bit negative, but actually this knowledge made me focus on making the best of our time together. Lindy might have slowed down, but she still loved her walks and she loved her home comforts.
    Lindy had always loved sunshine, which wasn’t surprising, given her background. When we’d moved house in 2005 we’d inadvertently picked the hottest day of the year.
    Because of this we couldn’t leave the dogs in a car as we packed up the removal lorries with our belongings, and we couldn’t leave them in the house as the doors were all open. We had tied Abel and Jess up on the decking, which was quite sheltered with a bowl of water, but Lindy soon got fed up of the hard decking and she slipped her collar.
    We found her curled up in the front of one of our friend’s cars. He had left the driver’s door open. It must have been at least thirty degrees centigrade in there but Lindy was in her element. When I tried to move her, she grunted and gave me a quick burst of wriggle-piggle, as if to say, ‘I’m perfectly happy where I am, thank you.’
    I couldn’t believe she was comfortable in that heat, (most dogs would have been cooked) but she was. I left her to snooze and made sure our friend didn’t shut the door.
    Anyway, in summer she would find a patch of sunshine and bask in it, and in winter she liked nothing