c1973  Bonnie digging for rabbits on the beach (I'd scoop out a hole and tell her there were rabbits there, then she'd keep digging the hole bigger to try and find them for a short while).

Later on when my brother left to go to university, it was then down to just me and the two dogs to go 'walkies', although sometimes Mrs Mearles would also join us and take us somewhere in her car for a change of scenery. In those days Selsey still had a lot of open and undeveloped spaces, particularly over the east side (East Beach), and the dogs would get lost amongst the undergrowth for hours looking for rabbits and following scents. They'd eventually come back to us after an hour or so of being called, usually soaking wet and covered in mud, looking very pleased with themselves for a good days foraging.

c1971  Bonnie outside our driveway in Green Lane, Selsey (long before the roads were made up in '76).

Many of the roads were also 'unmade' with large muddy puddles and grass verges which again was ideal for the dogs. Bonnie often sat outside our drive on the grass verge to watch the world go by, and also keep watch against undesirables. On one occasion she saw a cat up the road opposite and rather than run around the very large puddle in the road just opposite our drive, she jumped clean across it about 8 to 10 feet or so from an almost standing start!! At other less urgent times she would just paddle straight through the middle of the muddy water, possibly stopping to drink some of it along the way too.

c1972/3   Bonnie and my brother in the snow covered garden.

In the evenings Bonnie had her own old armchair in the lounge and she'd curl up on it as dogs do, but if someone was sitting there she'd jump in over the arms from the side to get behind whoever it was and squeeze in behind, then after a while she'd put her back legs against them and stretch out, pushing them right off the chair. A friend of ours had also taught her a few tricks, one was to 'say please' with a small soft bark which she often employed thereafter to get attention when there was food around. Another was to 'shake hands' in return for a biscuit or other scrap of food.

c1978/9  Outside the front door (possibly the last photo ever taken of her).

Sadly Bonnie was to die before her mum Freckles. She was only aged about 10 years old and would normally have expected to live at least a couple more years (her grandmother Candy had lived to 14, her mum Freckles was already around 13 and still going). But she became seriously ill about one year after I had left school and I was away with the navy at the time. She had developed cancer of the stomach and I'm told she was a sad and sorry sight to see in the end as she was obviously feeling very ill and finding it difficult to eat. After the vet had tried a number of possibilities to no avail, and with no further hope of being cured, she was put to sleep around early August 1979 to end her suffering. If she had just managed to hold on another two weeks I would have got to see her again, but as it is, my last memory of her is when I left home several months earlier and she was worriedly looking out of the window, obviously concerned that I was going away again, but at least she was fit and well. The odd thing is, I had this nagging feeling at the time that it would be the last time I would ever see her, but I dismissed it... and unfortunately it turned out to be correct - so now I still remember my last glimpse of her sitting on the bed in the front room so as to see out the window and looking most concerned about me going away. Despite all the years since losing her, if I think much about it I still get upset for her, and I still fondly remember her and all the great times and adventures we once had around Selsey, both dog and boy together.

c1973   Freckles, Bonnies mum, on the beach.

Bonnie's mum Freckles outlived her by several years and went on to reach a grand old age of 15 or 16 years old. A truly excellent age for the breed and, along with her remarkably placid and friendly temperament, she fully justified herself as the prime breeding specimen that she had been in her earlier years - maybe having had so many puppies was one of the reasons she lived for so long. Like Bonnie, Freckles also knew a few tricks when it came to getting your attention for food; her main tactic was to sneak under the dinner table and place her head in your lap to look up at you and watch every mouthful you took. This came as quite a surprise the first time she did it to me, we were looking after her at 'Kirklands' while her owners were away on holiday and we had all three dogs around. Dinner times could sometimes be quite amusing when we had both Bonnie and Freckles together, and in the early days Candy too! One dog with her head in your lap and the other beside you, still watching every mouthful, barking softly from time to time to say 'please'. The older one, Candy (Freckles' mum), sat a little way back where she knew you could see her and then just stared you out, trying to make you feel guilty. It took a little getting used to at first. I also seem to remember, when offered some food, Candy could also sit upright on her hindquarters with her front legs dangling in a classic 'begging' position.

c1978   Freckles, my brother, and Bonnie just east of 'the bill'.

Freckles died in around April 1981 and, in the same way that we had been so deeply upset over the loss of our Bonnie, Mrs Mearles was also deeply upset to lose Freckles. I also often think of Freckles as having been like a second pet to me too (as I had walked her so many times and for so many years with Bonnie), so I too was also greatly saddened by her loss. For me the loss of both dogs coming within the few years after I had left school seemed to signify the end of an era, it was as if my own childhood had also died with them.