Our dog

Pippa, a crazy bearded collie.The first of our dogs. The local farmer was looking for homes for the litter that his sheepdog had given birth to. We had the runt. A tiny ball of fur that grew and grew and grew. In the end she looked just like a bearded collie and she was nuts. She could climb our six foot wooden gates and run off on her own. She would take off across the fields with me giving chase, shouting and bawling at her. She took no notice. One day when she had been missing all day our milkman knocked on our door and pointed at his van. There she was, sitting in the front passenger seat, grinning at us. She'd been out on the milk round. Another time, a local boy brought her back tied to a piece of string. He'd found her two miles away, barking at the ducks on the river. She would steal chickens eggs, but one day the chickens ganged up on her and we found her cowering in the corner while the birds pecked bits out of her. She didn't steal eggs again. I was taking her for a walk one evening when she suddenly crouched down as if she was going to the toilet. Then she collapsed. I rushed her to the vet, but she was dead: a massive heart attack.The first of our dogs.

Cindy a poodle crossed with something else. We got her from the dog's home. No one would have her because she was ugly. She had curly hair like a poodle but a terrier's body. When we brought her back from the dog's home my wife bathed her and trimmed her hair. Then we went inside and sat at the table for a cup of tea. Cindy jumped up on a vacant seat as if to say, 'Where's my tea?' We had Cindy for many years and she gave us no end of pleasure.

Lassie. My wife and daughter visited the dog's home when Cindy passed on, to see what dogs were available. Outside the home they met an elderly lady who was breaking her heart as she had to get rid of her dog, because the sheltered accommodation she was going into didn't cater for dogs. Of course my family came back home with her dog. The lady lived in our town and she was well known to one of our neighbours, so she had regular updates on Lassie. On one occasion, we were going on holiday with my sister-in-law and her husband, so Jim and I were given the task of booking our dogs into the local kennels for a week. We got our dogs out of the car and went to the office to book them in, but when I looked for Lassie, she'd disappeared. We searched the kennels forecourt, looked around everywhere, until Jim said, 'Look at the car.' There was Lassie sitting in the back seat looking at us. She decided she wasn't staying, but I'm afraid she had to. We had Lassie for 17 years, and strangely enough, when she passed on, we heard that the lady who'd owned her before us, passed away on the same day.

Jess. Jess was a German Shepherd. We didn't own her. She was my younger daughter's dog but she spent more time with us than with her. What a character that dog was. She gave us no end of laughs at her antics. She was one of the breed who could almost talk and I used to have my grandchildren in stitches imitating what Jess was trying to say. Well, what I thought she was trying to say. When taking her to the beach in our car she would catch a first view of the sea as we drove down the hill towards the coast, and she would start to howl, causing a terrific noise all the way to the beach. My wife picked her up and she jumped into the boot of the car, but evidently the lid didn't close properly and down the road the lid sprang open so Jess jumped out. Realising the car was still going she started to chase it causing the people around huge amusement. The guy driving the car behind her nearly had hysterics.

On New Years day at about three in the morning our phone rang. It was our daughter and she wanted to know what to do with Jess. While they were out of the house, Jess had stood on hind legs and knocked a six pack of beer and a bottle of wine off the kitchen unit. The wine had smashed so she drank that, then she bit through each can and drank those as well. She was now lying on the floor snoring like a train. I told my daughter to let her sleep it off. The next day she had a terrific hangover as she lay down all day with her paws over her eyes. Jess was the only dog I knew of who could open the fridge and steal food. We regularly came home to find the fridge door open and food missing, the remnants of it strewn everywhere.

Molly. She was another crazy dog. My eldest daughter had Molly. She was a beautiful white dog with black patches. She was a Boxer crossed with a terrier. She could run like the wind and keep it up for hours. She would race around the sandy beach from one end to the other, then do it again. She would dive in the lake from a great high bank to take a swim.

Ralph. Her latest dog is a Hungarian Vizla, and I think this one will cure her of ever having a dog again. It's an absolute nightmare! His favourite food is socks and gloves, with a dessert of wood, twigs or table legs. He even likes paint. When she rubbed the skirting boards down, and primed them, he came behind her and licked all the paint off. She had to take him to pick up the kids, with paint all around his mouth. The other day, he sicked up a glove that they'd been looking for for three days. When I was visiting them, I watched as my son-in-law reached into his mouth and dragged a sock out of his throat. He's almost destroyed the table legs, the chair legs and the kick boards in the kitchen. But, as people keep saying, he's just a puppy. Puppy maybe, but he'll be lucky to see his first birthday.

The latest addition to the family is Betty. She's a Jack Russell Terrier and she was badly abused by her first owner, consequently she's very nervous. But she's an excellent house dog and raises the alarm as soon as anyone opens our gate.