I knew a little angel once..................

are the words that come to mind when I see this picture of Pete as a little pup.It's the first line of a poem I read as a kid, I can't remember much past the first few lines but the general gist of it was that the little angel bought the ugliest kitten to love incase it didn't get loved at all.


So it's a sad, happy poem which kind of describes this last week because on monday poor little Pongo Pete managed to get hit and killed by the truck in the snow. I've been absolutely gutted,still in daze now, as Peter had something that made everyone fall in love with him and it certainly wasn't his fabulous good looks even if he did have legs long enough to make Naomi jealous.


Pete really had comic genius , I’m convinced he would have made it big on the telly, always a little predictable with his goofiness that didn't seem to detract from his ability to make me laugh. He liked riding shotgun on the dashboard in the truck or at least trying to master this skill while we went about our hay feeding routine. If the other dogs were stood on the dash too he'd slide from side to side swiping them to the floor as he hung on with grim determination. Once he mananged to clip the edge of the club hammer as he plummeted to the footwell only to be smashed over the head by the hammer in hot pursuit.. Never one to be perturbed he shakily dragged himself out to begin the whole performance all over again.


Only a few nights ago he had been hell bent on obtaining one particular scrap of wood in the bottom of the log basket ,so with great gusto he launched himself from the chair head first into the midst of the logs to secure his prize.He only succeeded in getting stuck face first in the basket with his bum and legs wiggling wildly above him, but fought valiantly on, determined to snatch his prize with which he was duly rewarded . Then came the laborous scrabble to extract himself backwards without foothold, after much puffing and squeeking and scrabbling of legs one last concerted effort saw him somersault backwards out of the basket to land a stunning smack to the head on the tiles behind. He trotted off in triumph, didn’t he have the very piece of wood that he had been after ?


It wasn't just his cute antics deployed at ninety miles  an hour ; bouncing off the furniture, attacking the broom,chasing the chickens, barking at the pigs or being licked by Turnip, it was his obsessive loyalty, just like his mother, my mum's dog. He'd stick by my side attacking with gleeful gusto the very same job we did yesterday ; feeding the youngsters out in the field, or earlier ; mucking out, or just five minutes ago ; walking up the lane to get another cob in.If he went without me he'd always arrive back at the door after five minutes all jubilant to be reunited.How can you fail to fall for someone who loves you that much ?


The only one he never managed to win round was Mini...........


By the rest of us he is sorely missed, Doughnut will miss her bunny hunt tutoring sessions, she'd been busy trying to convince him he didn't have to bring the teddy AGAIN ! Of course I will miss his shining happy ever presence.


The only happiness I can really derive from the whole sorry scenario( Pete had only been with us a couple of months) was that he had a very happy fun filled little life and he managed to put real sparkle into my own.


Dear Pete we miss you x x