This is Snibby, my parents’ Cairn terrier. I say my parents’ dog, because by the time I was born she was getting on and died when I was still small, so I don’t remember her well.
However, my parents loved her dearly and would tell stories about her. They were living in a flat and had no garden. It was after the war and times were still hard. On the rare occasion that Snibby had a bone she obviously couldn’t bury it in the garden. But sometimes she would want to put it aside for later. So she would move it to beside a wall and find things to drape over it. On one occasion she buried it in my parents’ bed which, as luck would have it, their visiting friends were sleeping in.
I posted this a while ago Elsewhere, and now I want to do an update here. Unfortunately, Elsewhere doesn’t like ‘advertising’ or I could have just posted a link. So, apologies if you’ve read this before. Just scroll down.
I saw Robbie Williams this morning.
He was going for a walk. I smiled at him but he didn’t see me. I was on the bus.
I see him quite a lot. If I meet him on the street he’s very friendly.
He’s still quite stocky though he goes for several walks a day. But it doesn’t seem to worry him. He has a lovely coat. It’s a sort of soft champagne colour.
Unusual for a Westie.
I still haven’t understood quite how he got his name, but he’s a minor celebrity in North Lambeth.
Robbie’s owner is a lady who I’m guessing has had her Freedom Pass for several years. Still, she walks him four times a day.
It turns out he’s not a Westie, but a very chunky Cairn Terrier. Usually they are on the lighter side. Robbie is solid. And an Arsenal supporter.
I’m not convinced he’d recognise one of the Gunners if he crossed them in the street, but that doesn’t stop him having an Arsenal lead, bowl and piggy bank. All courtesy of his owner’s son.
In these recessionary times, a dog that has a savings plan is a role model for other, less prudent, animals and a pet many owners would like to have.