Sandie dog

A thought before sleeping ... writes the hopeful Kiwi.

I was a young bride when I moved to small town New Zealand and once there it became clear that a dog was required to fill the vacancy of faithful companion; the one who was always available for walking tours and geographical exploration of the new area.

I mentioned this fact repeatedly over days, a kind of verbal application of that anicent technique known as water torture. Fruit was quickly borne ... Sandie-dog arrived.

She never required a leash or a collar and it might be whispered that she was more obedient than many children I know. Her only rebellion was that she was always torn about whether to stay in the water or come home ... a battle that never became simple and often involved her running after the car as I drove slowly away, forcing choice.

She lived 16 years, the last few were increasingly wobbly. I carried her on and off her beloved beaches during most of her final year.

I was just thinking about how nice it would be to have my old dog around. She used to sleep somewhere close when I read or wrote. She loved a good road trip, was partial to beds when one could be located and she adored a new creek, lake or beach.

I must talk to Gert about dogs ... hmmm 3am, a review of technique and sleep deprivation comes to mind as a possible modus operandi.