Sharing nature with dogs

Marge & Millie shepherding Katie & Rauol at Chaffinch Corner

There is a particularly peaceful spot in the woods opposite our house. Known as Birch Cleave this small wooded hillside is the highest beech wood above sea level in England and it is a very special place to us but the very best spot is 'chaffinch corner'. Here the leaf litter of the forest floor gives way to lush grass and large mature beech trees stand solid and moss-covered like huge guardians, bearing the brunt of the southwesterly winds that thunder up the valley and rattle every leaf, bud and branch. From here there are tantalising glimpses of the view; the river Barle far below with its ancient stone bridge and the wider valley beyond. It's impossible not to stop and take a breath in this spot, to look up at the canopy, out at the view and usually to notice the busy dashing chaffinches who swoop through in chattering gangs and led us to giving this amazing place a name! We do have a habit of naming our favourite places.

Katie bounding in the snow

At the weekend we buried our beloved little Yorkshire Terrier Katie here and it felt perfect. She was almost 15 and we first met her exactly 11 years ago when she was a nervous little thing who had never really been for a walk and was afraid of her own shadow. She never fully lost that anxious nature but she grew into a funny, feisty, bold explorer who loved nothing more than sniffing around those woods with her friends, either keeping us waiting while she checked out every tree stump or dashing off ahead showing off that she knew the way. That and playing enthusiastically with her squeaky toys and unwrapping everyone's presents at Christmas! Because she always seemed so uncertain of our love for her, so unassuming, we would always tell her quietly that she was the 'best one' (making sure the other dogs couldn't hear of course!) and now 'the best one' will be forever in the 'best spot', wearing her best purple stripy sweater.

Anya sunbathing after a river swim

Sadly, less than a month ago we also lost our other Yorkie, Anya who had been with us for only three years and she too is buried in Birch Cleave but in a different place. She was always to be found in a sunny spot even if it was the only shaft of sunlight coming in through a window, so she needed an eternal place in the sun. Being less adventurous than Katie she is buried closer to our house beneath a soft mossy carpet in a light open clearing. She again came to us having not had a very adventurous life up to the age of 10 but proved herself to be a fearless and sometimes fierce character who would think nothing of swimming across a river if it meant she could get to her dearest Nick. Soon after we adopted Anya, Nick had a long time off work following her hip replacement and Anya became completely attached to her during that time. It really helped her settle into our home but it also really helped Nick because Anya had an incredible healing energy whenever she was close to you. Of course Nick then spent the whole of last year having treatment for cancer and Anya was her steadfast ally, always by her side, at her feet or underneath her when she was doing press-ups. It turned out that she came into our lives just when we needed her the most and left when she felt her work was done - Nick was healed, it was OK for her to go. She may have bitten the ankles of everyone who visited us but she was a brilliant little dog with a huge personality.

Our first Yorkie was Raoul who died 5 years ago. Again the first 6 years of his life had been  very different to the time he spent with us. In fact, he'd been a stud dog and never lost his way with the ladies! We adopted him just as Nick moved to Exmoor for work whilst I was still 200 miles away and travelling back and forth for eighteen months until I also found a job here. The first day he and I spent together was stressful as he managed to get himself lost in the garden and it was two hours before I found him. You'd think he'd bear a grudge because I hadn't taken care of him but no, he saw me as his saviour and didn't leave my side for the next seven years! I had been feeling alone, making my weekly trips to visit Nick and our other dogs on Exmoor but he kept me company, made sure I got out for walks and happily shared my snacks on the long drive from Sussex to Somerset. In exchange I slowly taught him to walk off the lead, feel confident in wide open spaces and to love a woolly sweater and a Malteser. He once took a wrong turn and tumbled down a rock face frightening the life out of us but emerged unscathed apart from a broken claw! He was a legend.

Nick's mother also had a little Yorkie for the last couple of years of his life after his owner went into a nursing home. He was a funny old fella with a wart on his nose and a persistent cough, he really didn't seem to have a lot going for him but Mickey proved to be a riot. He once entertained everyone at a New Year party by tearing off small bits of newspaper and using them to cover up the treats he was given so that the other dogs couldn't get them. As soon as his back was turned the others would eat his biscuit and he'd have to start all over again! It was thanks to him that we went on to adopt dogs from the same breeder and he lived on in our memory as Great Uncle Mickey.

Raoul being handsome

So we find ourselves without a Miniature Yorkshire Terrier in our lives for the first time in over twelve years and it feels like the end of an era. We never intended to have such small, typically yappy dogs in our lives but fate brought them to us and they fitted in with our bigger dogs just fine and held a very special place in our hearts. They changed the way we thought about walks for one thing. When you have a tiny dog or two at your heels you have to be mindful of obstacles which might impede their progress, go a little slower than before and be prepared to give them a lift over particularly boggy bits but we tried not to treat them like delicate lap dogs. Yes, they sometimes needed to be tucked inside our coats in the worst of weather but we kept our expectations high. Katie once walked over ten miles across the moor and she sometimes went to work with Nick letting the children hold her lead all day and sitting round a campfire with them in the rain. At the end of a day like that when all the other dogs were crashed out in blissful exhaustion she would climb into the toy box and get all her toys out, squeaking them loudly and racing around claiming not to be tired at all! They loved being out in the garden where they ruled the roost and always made their presence known to anyone walking by. They came wild camping with us, they learned to negotiate snow and streams, ditches, vast beaches and rocky hills, teaching us all a lesson in determination and bravery. They also taught us lessons in devotion, trust and unconditional love as only dogs can, not to mention the proliferation of cosy blankets they brought into our lives and their masterful ability to make a nest amongst them! And many's the big dog who found themselves crammed into a ridiculously small bed because their own bed had been appropriated by a tiny terrier! 

As we walk in the woods now I miss seeing the Yorkies hop, skip and jump over fallen trees, squeeze under gates and leap across small streams and I realise that even though they did these things every day I always felt a little bit proud that we had helped them become so confident. These things came naturally to our other dogs because they were gradually exposed to different environments and challenges as they grew up but this wasn't the case with the Yorkies who had led more sheltered lives before we adopted them. So we had to teach them to jump over things, to avoid deep puddles rather than just wade through them (Anya never quite got the hang of that!) and to follow in our tracks through long grass. I remember the times when we were snowed in and had to dig a series of narrow channels all around the garden so that they little dogs could get through the deep snow! 

I was born on a snowy night and apart from my mum and the midwife the first living thing to set eyes on me was our Yorkshire Terrier, Dylan, who raced up the stairs and jumped onto the bed to welcome me into the world so maybe I was always destined to have a special relationship with these little dogs. Dylan once clambered up the side of a 100ft waterfall just to get to some people who were enjoying a picnic so I should've known then that they were a tenacious breed! Tenacious, faithful, loud and loyal, feisty, bold, speedy, funny and simply adorable, they each leave a big gap in our lives despite being so small. We miss them like crazy but we have been lucky to share so many great times with them and feel privileged to have been able to help them when they were scared or unwell and ultimately to make the hardest decision of all on their behalf.