Remembering the Scruff

This post is dedicated to Charlie the cat. My thoughts are with Linda.

It's cold, I'm hungry
My knight approaches,
She rides a pale horse.
Maybe she has some food ?

She reaches her home and soon
An angel leaves some scraps
It's not much I know and they don't want it
But to me, it's more precious than gold.
They won't let me in, that's ok.
I'll lie down by the doors,
I'm not in the way.
My coat will keep me warm.

The doors open and I'm still here,
They beckon me in. Have I found a home ?
I'll do my best, I promise.
It's nice and warm in here,
And a small thing is hugging me.
(author's note - the small thing is me, aged 6)

What have I done wrong ?
The Big Walking Man is shouting.
I'm in trouble I know,
Sorry about the puddle on the floor.
More hugs, I'm not in trouble.
It was the small thing after all.

It's late, dark outside.
Master watches the News.
I watch his glass,
When empty it means WALKWALKWALKWALKWALK

Where are they going ?
The doors on the metal box are open,
They want me to get in.
Not having that again, metal box leads to No-Home and hunger.
BARK, tricked - other door shuts before I can get out.
Rattle, rattle, shake, shake, metal box stops.
Oooo, paths, room to run. Better keep up.
BARK - back to the metal box. Not so nasty now.
Rattle, rattle, shake, shake, metal box rolls again.
It's later, I'm home again.
My bowl is full of food, Scruff happy now.

What's this ? A ball of fluff.
It has claws. Ow ! Hiding Scruff.
I feel silly. I'm big, patchy thing is titchy.
Hur-hur, can't get me. I'm under the settee.

My legs hurt now
My back too.
I can barely see
walk's don't excite me.
Master carries me to the metal box,
He helps me when my legs will not.

The pain is gone now,
It will never catch me
Cos now I'm chasin' wabbits
When not walking on the clouds.
I remember my people,
And the love they gave me.
I owed them my life
And repaid by being their friend.

A little bit of background information. Scruff was an Irish Wolfhound, Red Setter cross who found us when we were living out in the country in Northern Ireland. We think he was abandoned and was lucky enough to come across my sister when she was riding her horse, Taffy. He was almost dead from starvation when he plonked himself down on our back doorstep. My mum gave him a few of our scraps, not expecting him to live out the night. He did though and was our devoted friend and companion for the next 15 years. He was a very scared dog for a while though, if my mum and dad shouted at me, my brother or my sister then he'd quite likely have an accident. It took a while before he learned that shouting might not be his fault.

Scruff was a very smart dog, he even learned to connect the sound of the weather bulletin after the news with "WalkTime!", he also knew to not get too worked up until my dad's pint glass was empty. He couldn't quite contain his excitement though - he always started to bounce around when there was about an inch left in that glass. We had a terrible time getting him to be happy in a car, travel meant a lot of hugs and a little trickery was required. But he loved being able to run around some of the country parks that Ireland enjoys.

I called him Scruff because when he appeared, he resembled a big black shaggy mess of a dog. Scruff fit him absolutely perfectly. His most memorable characteristic was his big hairy paws, when he gave you one of those, you knew he was saying please.

I can't remember whether it was Scruff who hid from Patch the cat or whether it was Tufty the Beagle who hid under the sofa ... When we were moving back to England from Ireland, my dad lost Scruff while walking him at my grandparents house. Proof of how smart Scruff was came when Scruff managed to get home, despite us not being at that house long, successfully negotiating several busy roads.

We had to say goodbye to Scruff while I was still at university (10 years ago). While in Ireland, we believe he had a disagreement with a truck driving down the lanes, which led to lots of problems around his back end. Towards the end, his energy was gone and he gave a "Do I have to ?" look when someone said "Walk". Walk originally being a forbidden word because one mention of it would have led to Scruff bouncing off the ceiling in excitement. The contrast between that and the "Do I have to?" look of pain was heartbreaking.

My family remembers him with love. We will never forget the devotion he gave in return for those first few scraps of food.