Mommy and Daddy would like to thank everyone for their kind wishes and love that they sent when Scrappy Doo stepped onto the Rainbow Bridge ( I haven’t said anything to them, but I hope it held his weight). It has been a really hard couple of weeks, but we can now talk about him and laugh about his antics without Mom bursting into tears. It is a good job I have licked those tears away otherwise they would have raised the sea levels by an inch or two. I have become a bit more clingy and don’t like my pack to be separated. This has caused a few problems for Dad, as he has not been able to drag me into the nearest cafe when mom goes shopping, but instead we wait faithfully for her outside. It feels as if I am retraining them all over again.

Mom has been reflecting on some of the things that Scrappy did and taught us, (some good and some bad) and I thought I would turn them into a blog.

Know you enemy. Whenever he got into trouble Mom defended Scrappy to the hilt and it was never his fault. I still remember the day that Mom tied his lead to her camping chair in France whilst enjoying a glass of wine and the night sky. Scrappy saw a cat and took off, taking Mom and the chair with him and only stopped when they got stuck halfway through a hedge. Mom was a little grazed and covered in red wine but strangely it was Dad’s fault, never Scrappy Doo’s. Our Scrappy was happy to make war on anything furry which went past. We loved the VE Day Remembrance events we saw in France last week. There were lots of parades, men in uniform, marching bands and processions. Most towns have a road called 8th Mai 1945 commemorating the liberation and the street signs were covered in flowers and ribbons. In Le Havre we enjoyed a walk to the modern cathedral, which is very Goudi like as it is made of concrete and has rainbows of coloured light filtering through the stained glass windows. It was built in remembrance of the 5,000 French civilians who died as a result of Allied bombardments who turned the town into wastelands of rubble and ash. Le Havre, known as a martyr city was freed of Nazi rule only after a 12 day siege and a barrage of fire. Earlier in the day we had walked to the park, which now looks like an English country garden, but 75 years ago was a mass grave for the people of the town. Mom did a lot of research and some historians are now claiming that in a modern war this indiscriminate bombing would be called a war crime. However, in his commemoration speech the French president paid tribute to the French civilians who suffered as a result of the bombing, liberating France.

Eat, drink and be merry. Scrappy’s favourite pastime was eating, and even in his last few days he managed a little bit of cooked chicken if Mommy hand fed him and lots of yoghurts. Scrappy suffered from terrible ear wax, so Mom would regularly get cotton buds and special stuff from the vet to clean his ears. He would go cross eyed and frantic if a large piece of wax emerged, as it was his favourite snack of all. They say boys have revolting habits, and it is so true!!! He also believed that everything could be improved by squirty cream. Occasionally, if it were on offer mom would buy a can just for the Doo. Every time she opened the fridge he would be there for a quick squirt, no wonder he was so fat. In Belgium going out for a coffee is something of an event, and in Nieuwpoort coffee comes on a little wooden tray. It is accompanied by a little slice of cake and a small glass of advocat with squirty cream which I get to eat. When they venture out for a glass of beer (mom is rather addicted to cherry beer), then it comes with half a pound of Gouda cheese (very tasty). In many places they bring me my own drink and homemade doggy cookies. Scrappy would have loved it, but I do have my waistline to consider! Mom and Dad love French food, but even Scrappy Doo would have declined sea-snails, whelks, mussels and oysters, which Mom seems to devour by the bucketload. In Boulogne we had a walk around the Saturday morning market which was full of tasty smells, including huge vats of sausage stew. Mom bought some cheese and cider, which smelt like Farmer Frank’s farm when the silage has been sprayed on the next door farm. Mom and Dad laughed that the biggest queue of all was at the horse meat stall, but they were not tempted to buy any!

Avoid walking at all cost. Anyone who tried walking Scrappy will know that he only went during daylight hours, in dry conditions and when he wanted. He could then walk for hours if he was in the right frame of mind. When Mom was having chemotherapy seven years ago, she decided she wanted to walk part of the Pennine way. Day one was the longest leg we were doing, which was 18 miles. I hopped over the first stile and a gunshot went off in the distance. In usual Scrappy fashion he went down on all fours and refused to budge. Dad tried shouting, pulling, pushing, dragging and all he did was hurt his own back, so he carried him the first mile up a steep hill, until the shooting stopped. Dad was done in, but Scrappy walked the following 17 miles with a spring in his step. I am not sure what he would make of the last few weeks. We have walked and walked round the port of Cherbourg when Scrappy was poorly; up and down the seaside promenade at Le Havre; along the coastal paths looking out over the oyster farms at St Vaast; to the chateau and war memorials at Dieppe; to the old medieval town at Boulogne; and along the many network of canals in Belgium. Quite frankly I am worn out, and have clocked up on average 77 miles per week for the last 4 weeks. Mom keeps asking why she is still fat.... perhaps it is the cherry beer, seafood, cheese and galettes!

Take the car instead. Scrappy loved the car. I would be out in the garden on firework night and the only place Scrappy wanted to be was in the footwell of the car. His favourite of all was the campervan, where he would sit on the drivers seat and watch the world go by. If Mom had been gone for too long he would put his paws on the middle of the steering wheel and blow the horn. Mom and Dad did try to get him to run beside them once when they were cycling in Wales. What a mistake that turned out to be, he saw a sheep and Mom was zooming at a million miles an hour too frightened to drop the lead for fear he would kill the sheep. This week has been great in Belgium, with me trotting between the two bikes on the many cycle-paths. It is all flat, but I made them turn off the electric bit as I could not keep up. We often tootle to the Patisserie where I am treated to a croissant before my jog back.

Hog the fire. In our new house in Yorkshire there was hardly a day that went by without Mom or Dad lighting a fire, and Scrappy loved it. Occasionally he would singe himself as he got so close. On the boat we have a pretend fire, that looks like real coal, but actually blows out warm air. It only works when we are in a marina with electric, and when it was not on Scrappy would sit in front of it and bark. If it went off in the middle of the night, mom and Dad would find a cold nose appeared under the sheets, and it wasn’t mine! I do not think he would like the current sailing. Mom and Dad have been doing a lot of moaning about sailing in colder climates. This morning we were meant to have a 6am start to Holland, but when they woke up and realised it was raining hard, they went back to bed!! Mom moans about sailing in boots and full weather gear, and declares she will only do it for one season, and Dad moans they he has more shorts that underpants and will never get to wear them! In fact mom resembles a beached whale as she has so many layers on, starting with her long johns and fur hat, I don’t think she appreciates the grim North Sea.

Take a wee break whenever necessary. I have never known anyone like a toilet break as much as my brother, he could cock his leg for England. Mom taught him to wee up the mast when sailing, and she could then wash it away with a bucket of water. All went well until they were at anchor several years ago in the Scilly Isles and Dad put the portable generator next to the mast. A few days later Dad went to start it and it burst into flames. Luckily Scrappy was on hand to extinguish it and Dad discovered the reason his generator was broken, too much Scrappy acid!! In Boulogne we all went out for breakfast, with me sitting under the table. Dad was okay as he ordered a croissant, but mom asked for bread and jam. In France there is often a toilet door with a sink and urinal in it and then a unisex toilet behind another door. The owner went into the first door and put a chopping board over the sink and cut the bread and fetched the butter from the sink cupboard. As he was buttering the bread a man came out of the toilet, the bread was removed temporarily for him to wash his hands and he dried them on the cloth the man was using with the bread. I can tell you now, I never want to see a buttered baguette again as Mom didn’t do a lot of the eating of it!!! A few days later Mom was sitting in the middle of Brugge enjoying a cup of coffee when she saw a man go into a booth and could see his legs and feet and head and shoulders. She asked Dad if she thought he really was having a wee in the middle of the street, and he explained that she was looking at a male urinal. After his wee he wandered along the street and sat down at the next table. Mom did not really enjoy her cup of coffee as all she could think of was, ‘ dirty bugger he hasn’t washed his hands’, Dad did try to explain that there was no sink, but did a hasty exit before Mom could offer the man some hand gel!!!

And most importantly to love unconditionally, forgive immediately and to live in the present moment. When Scrappy was two years old Mom arrived home to find him sitting on the stairs looking very chuffed with himself. He had carpet between his teeth and in his ears, he had found a loose thread and pulled and pulled until the carpet started to unravel. With a little help from me we managed to destroy several steps worth of carpet before Mom arrived home. I was clever enough to retreat to the settee whilst Scrappy sat amongst all the wreckage making a nest. It is the only time Mom went wild at him, she threw him outside and refused to allow him in for a few hours and did not feed him any tea. When she let him in his whole face lit up and for the rest of the evening Scrappy sat at her feet licking her toes and put on his best display of tail wagging and tail chasing. I think it took Mom until the next day to forgive him, but for Scrappy it was forgotten immediately and he was already on to the next game of digging up the garden and getting Mom to love him. This week Mom and Dad bought a day ticket to go to Gent. After the 40 minute tram ride to Ostende, they got on the train to Gent. The ticket conductor arrived and checked their ticket only to find that they had been sold a ticket for the tram and bus and not the tram and train. The conductor would sell them a ticket but there would be a €14 each fine for not having the correct ticket. Normally Mom would have a rant, and been really angry that they had been sold the wrong ticket, but she was calm and polite and asked how the conductor could help them. She agreed to sell them a ticket for the normal price, but only if they got off at the next stop, as she could lose her job for doing it. They ended up in Brugge again (as it would have cost another €30 to buy the correct ticket), although a beautiful city, they had been there just a few days before. Mom would normally have let it spoil her day, ( and it would have been Dad’s fault for not checking the ticket) but instead they went into Brugge and had the most magical day, putting all thought of Gent aside. They found a tearoom, where you could sit upstairs looking down over the huge chandelier watching the meringues being made. They walked hand in hand along the canals and to quieter parts of the city they had never seen before, and ended their day in the main square where a trio were playing Pachabel’s Canon, which mom walked down the aisle to 25 years ago in August. On the way back they got to see the European Para Cycling and Team UK in action.

Mom saw this quote on Facebook and thought it a fitting ending to my blog, “The life of the dead is placed in the heart of the living” – Cicero. We shall talk and laugh about Scrappy and for now keep him in the title of our blog as he remains forever with us in our hearts.