We said goodbye to our lovely Brodie at the end of March.
If you have read a couple or more of my posts on this blog you’ll will probably have seen her.
Brodie worked her magic from the day we brought her home from the rescue centre, when she was around a year old. A look at her lovely face, a ‘trial walk’ along the canal and we were hooked.
She was a bit nervous in the first few days, so her dressage way of walking didn’t reveal itself straight away but would soon get comments from people for years to come.
And pretty soon she was right at home and developing her interests in cheese, play fights, ear rubs (you couldn’t miss those ears) Chewbacca impressions as she circled the Sunday dinner table, and barking at the postman (sorry Bill).
For the next fifteen years she was a great member of the family.
And during the second half of her life, she became one of the three old dears, happily adapting to the changing routines of a slowly emptying nest, alongside Anita and I.
And she was a great walking buddy to me.
Even on a dark day, out on a long walk on the hills or a sniffathon along the lane and up to the quarries near us: a glance at her by my side, or a stop for a drink and a shared pork pie and there was instant sunshine.
Magical girl that she was.
I’m not posting here to be maudlin but since I subjected my friends and blog readers to my endless ‘Mark And Brodie On A Hill’ photos, I thought you would want like to know.
Brodie, you rocked X.