IN MEMORY OF BAGGINS OF NOBLE LOOK - † 7 JUNE 2010
Time passes so quickly. A year ago today my bulldog-son Baggins of Noble Look passed away and his memory still ambushes me often and at the most unexpected times. I miss him as he was very special.
♥ Girl and I set up house together in Jozi in 2001. She knew how much I loved bulldogs and found a puppy for me from a reputable breeder. It was love at first sight and he moved in with us an 8-week old a month after took occupation of our new home. A little fat ungainly bundle of wrinkles that captured my heart - he was not only my dog-son but also a major part of a new, happy chapter in my life.
Baggy was hell on wheels from day one. We had a beautiful Persian covered cushion in the lounge which he annexed to sleep on as a puppy, after he chewed off all the tassels naturally. That was the first of many things that has fallen prey to his inquisitiveness and strong jaws. I lost count of the things ending up in pieces through the years. A least three cellular phones, a pair of glasses, an antique silver cigarette holder he nicked from the coffee table. He loved visitors and stole an elderly visitor’s high heeled shoe once as well as make-up from ♥ Girl’s mother’s handbag. He also played silly buggers with workmen, either scaring the hell out of them with his aggressive behaviour or stealing their tools and running around with them.
Neither ♥ Girl nor I are strict disciplinarians with the result that Baggins soon found how to push our buttons. Sharing a home with him was a daily adventure as his behaviour was unpredictable at the best of times.
He was, however, undeniably my dog and ♥ Girl always said that we were like two peas in a pod. Not only did we look like father and son; we also had the same stubborn, unpredictable and sometimes volatile characteristics. That’s why I cared for him so deeply I suppose.
I miss seeing him waiting at the gate in the evenings when I get home. I miss his presence sleeping on the couch in my study. I miss watching him dragging his blankets around the house, rolling a corner into a little ball and suckling himself into oblivion like a puppy. I miss our solitary walks on the Melville Koppie in the early morning when it was still safe to go there.
I planned to write some of the many Baggins stories but even after a year I find it hard to put my thoughts on paper. He lives on in my heart and I am glad I buried his ashes next to Jessamy, the stolen angel, in our back garden. I could not bear the thought of leaving his remains behind to end up god-knows-where.
At least I can spend some quiet time with him when I feel like it. I used to put flowers on his grave but Count Frodo Vrostki, the Boston terrier we got six months after his passing likes to steal them and chewing it to bits. Another delinquent in the making I swear.
Rest well Baggins, I’m sure we’ll meet again somewhere along the road.