When I wrote about Drogba and Lampard my two Lurchers in 20, I lied to protect their identities. They were in fact two Whippets, Jack (aka the Jackster) and Pablo. My Leither piece was written as a letter to a dog sitter and as a cautionary tale for anyone thinking of getting a pet. Walkies in bad weather, pooping and scooping, vet’s bills are all part of animal companionship. Now, more than ten years on I write a different doggie tale.

Whippets look a bit ratty with big long, sad faces. They look skinny, not nearly as cuddly as a cute cockapoo. However, that’s not so. According to one book on dog breeds whippets ‘are the most companionable of hounds’. Whippets feel the cold and they like nothing better than to get up close and personal. I never allowed them to sleep on the bed. They slept in it!

The main contract you make with a dog is that the animal will die before you do. How you feel when they do go ‘over the rainbow bridge’ is something non-pet owners can ever fully appreciate. Pablo died in 2021 aged ten (cancer). The year before, Jack was in the park chasing a ball. Whippets love to chase and run and he loved to jump up and catch the ball before it hit the ground. This was his downfall. The act of jumping and twisting that cold day in January resulted in a ruptured disk in his back. The poor dog was poleaxed.

Jack was rushed to the Royal Dick Vet Hospital at the Easter Bush Veterinary Campus south of Edinburgh. A CT scan revealed that the rupture was not too bad and surgery was not required just rest and recuperation. Jackster, however, would never gain full use of his back right leg. He was nine. With perseverance – on my part and his – and a temporary harness he recovered his balance but his running days were largely over.

If there’s a lesson dogs can give humankind it’s this; whatever life throws at you just get on with it. ‘Dogs live in the present which keeps you in the moment too’, writes Chris Pearson in his recent book Collared. There is no self-pity in a dog’s repertoire. They don’t worry about mistakes made in the past, they’re never anxious about what the future might bring.

For four years I looked after Jack and tried not to treat him like a China doll. He could run off the lead but not chase an unpredictable, bouncing ball. Jumping on the sofa was kept to a minimum, and although he could manage walking downstairs, he had to be carried up. It was tough.

‘For dog lovers, the sensory and emotional engagements with our dogs is what matters’, writes Pearson whose own dog is a Bedlington-Whippet cross. His excellent book traces the changes in the last 200 years that have shaped the lives of dogs and humans in the West.

By early spring 2024 Jack was becoming really slow and having difficulty with his balance (he was nearly 14). He was not in pain and his heart was strong but his legs were not. One of the most difficult things anyone can do is decide when to say goodbye to their beloved pet. But when the time is right you tend to know. I decided to get the vet to come to the house so I’d be with my old friend at the end. I sat with him as he gently slipped away.

The vet asked if I wanted to be alone with him for a moment but no. I’d said all my goodbyes.

The loss of a dog is traumatic. No one can really share your grief. And grief it is (although to non-doggie folk the notion must sound idiotic). One of the worst things is coming back to an empty home, one where the dog had been at its centre, every day punctuated by meals, exercise…

I don’t equate losing a pet to losing a child or other human loved one, but it is heartbreaking nonetheless. The recollections of your pet are not the same as those you have of a friend or family member – there are no memories of sitting round the campfire telling silly stories, no memories of nights on the razzle. For all that, your pet was always there with you, never arguing, never judging or going into a sulk over something you did or didn’t do. I loved him despite all his faults and foibles and he loved me despite all mine.

A week after Jackster died, I met a fellow dogwalker in the park. She noticed that Jack was missing, offered condolences, and asked if I’d get another one…like it was as easy as replacing a broken toaster.

She asked if he was a rescue dog.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘he rescued me’. ■

Info: Collared by Chris Pearson is published by Profile at £18.99

Bluesky: @kenwilson84.bsky.social