Page 46 Daily Mail, Wednesday, March 4, 2020
tomorrow: Are you buying
the best food for your pet?
Later, I couldn’t take him to
university and it was while I was
away, in my second year, that he
ran away one night and never
came home. I missed him terribly.
He had always been there to
greet me, seeming to know when
I was on my way home.
Twelve years later, David and I
acquired William and Mary
almost from the moment we first
got together and they had been
wonderful pals for both of us. Wil-
liam came after I’d seen him at a
horse show in the New Forest. I
was longing for a dog and fell in
love with him instantly.
When we went to pick him upwe found he had a sister, Mary —
and David agreed with me that,
if you can’t be at home all day
with one dog, you should always
have two.
A walk in the morning before
work, another as soon as you get
back and they don’t get lonely
during the time you’re away
because they have each other.
The two of them managed to
deal with the arrival of our two
boys and, as I look back, gave
them both important lessons in
how to care for a dependent
animal and treat them with
affection and kindness. Dailywalks on a nearby common kept
us all fit, while at home there was
always a dog to curl up with if
you’d fallen out with a member
of the family.
I shall never know how William
managed to survive to the grand
old age of 18. He was the canine
equivalent of Houdini, always
managing to escape unnoticed
through the tiniest opening in
the front door: a dangerous
occupation during the period
when we lived in Clapham, not
far from the South Circular.
It’s maybe worth pointing to
the fact that my older boy, Ed,was three when he came with me
to the surgery for William and
Mary’s jabs and announced he
wanted to be ‘a doggy doctor’.
He’s now a vet and keeps a strict
eye on Butch who has, like me, a
tendency to put on weight if
allowed to be greedy!
William and Mary died within
two weeks of each other and,
honestly, that broke our hearts.
Mary was the first to become ill
and was taken to the vet, eutha-
nised and carried home to be
buried in the garden.
William sank very fast without
her. He waited for me to comehome from work and struggled
across the kitchen to greet me.
I bundled him up in a blanket
and carried him into the car.
Now, William had always hated
the vet and the nasty injections.
As we began to turn into the
road where the surgery was, he
rose up, kissed me on the cheek,
sighed and died in my arms. I
could hear him saying: ‘No way!
No jab for me thanks. Goodbye.’
He really was smart with a pretty
determined mind of his own.
We turned round for home,
sobbing all the way, and buried
him alongside his sister. It was
then that David decided there
would be no more dogs. I think
we both felt we couldn’t bear to
go through that grief again.
Of course, after my cancer, he
gave in and Butch became the
loving comfort I needed.
David fell in love as well,
constantly playing with Butch in
the garden. I couldn’t manage
long walks when my hips were
damaged by the chemotherapy,
but, after a hip replacement,
Butch has made me walk again.W
HEN I returned
to work in Lon-
don, Butch took
my commute by
train in his stride, but hated
being left alone when I went to
the radio studio. That’s when
Frieda joined us to keep him
company when I was absent.
Madge was not intended. I was
at a friend’s house, looking to
find her a dog on the Pets4Homes
website. Up popped Madge.
‘Look,’ said my friend, ‘your kind
of dog.’ I protested. I had two
dogs and didn’t need three. My
friend made the call. The pup, to
my amazement, was just round
the corner. I couldn’t resist. She’s
the tiniest of the three, gorgeous
and a bit of a show off, hence
Madonna, shortened to Madge.
Now I had three. Butch is rather
shy, eager to please and adores
me. Frieda is independent and
bossy and Madge is happy as
long as she gets a fair share of
admiration and cuddles.
My lovely neighbours walk
them when I’m at work and Suu,
the cat, brought in originally to
deal with a mouse problem,
comes and goes as she pleases
through her cat flap.
They are all my pets and I am
their willing slave. We could not
be more content. As long as they
are here I never feel lonely and
neither do they. It’s a mutual
love affair.
Friends and family are so impor-
tant when you need support
through tough times, but they
have their own lives to lead and
can’t always be there for you.
Pets, however, are always there
and somehow seem to know
when you’re feeling frightened or
sad. Butch will gaze at me with
those huge eyes full of love and
concern, cuddle up during the
worst moments and then say:
‘Right, let’s get some fresh air!’
Pets are, without doubt, the
very best medicine.M
y HUSBAND, David,
has often been heard
to mutter: ‘I think
you love them more
than you love me.’ I
don’t mean to upset him, but, at
times, I think he may be right.
After all, my pets are never grumpy,
never start an argument and greet me
with unalloyed joy whenever I come
home. They’ve also proved to be a
devoted source of comfort, love and
hilarity in difficult times.
My pack consists of three Chihuahuas,
Butch, Frieda and Madge, and a Burmese
cat, Suu. The dogs are ranged around my
feet as I write and Suu is on my lap, purr-
ing loudly and demanding I pause from
time to time to tickle her under her chin.
I love them all unconditionally, even
when I’ve had to clean up a little accident
or found the corner of the carpet slashed
to smithereens.
First, 14 years ago, came Butch. He’s a
white Chihuahua, on the large side for his
breed, who was so tiny when we first went
to collect him, he sat in David’s hand
and, as a joke, Dave said: ‘I think we
should call this little chap Butch!’ The
name just stuck.
He came into the family soon after I’d
been treated for breast cancer. David
hadn’t wanted the responsibility of
another dog after our two miniature
Schnauzers, William and Mary, died a
couple of years before my diagnosis.
I knew I wanted another dog to cheer
up the house. David was adamant. ‘No
more dogs!’ So, after my treatment I
played the cancer card. ‘Oh! I’ve been so
ill, I really need a dog to give me
something to care for now the boys are
grown up and gone.’
I have been accused of using him as a
child substitute and, frankly, there’s no
shame in that. As the nest began to
empty and the rigours of chemotherapy
made me wonder if life was worth living,
it was this youthful, energetic, playful
little chap who gazed at me with such
soulful and loving eyes and said: ‘Come
on, get up. Let’s play ball in the garden.’H
E NEEDED me and I
needed him. He made me
get up and his antics made
me laugh. He got me
going. I’ve always loved
animals. For my fifth birthday I was given
a parcel and unwrapped a collar and lead.
I was taken out to the shed and there was
Taffy — a tiny, ginger Corgi who was
almost as excited as I was.
For an only child he could not have been
a better chum. He was my friend and con-
fidant, always ready to listen to my wor-
ries and give me a kiss and a cuddle when
no one else seemed to care about me.Picture: Kevin holthealthier happier pet
how to
have a
Loving
support: Jenni
with her
Chihuahua
ButchAfter facing her own cancer
diagnosis, Jenni Murray says...
This little
chap nursed
me back
to health