We called all our female pet dogs, Janie.
One Janie we had, when we were quite young, was a dear little Australian Terrier who considered herself to be one of the kids and played with us accordingly. In those days, dogs were usually free to roam the streets and join in the fun with any, or all, of the neighbourhood children. This Janie loved joining in any activity, but she had no road sense and one unhappy summer weekend a car skittled her, turning that Sunday into a black day indeed
I was not outside in the street to see and hear the awful accident, but was in the back yard when Dad appeared, carrying the lifeless little body, which he laid gently on the grass, before putting an umbrella up to shield her body from the baking sun.
I was devastated. I did not move as I watched the sad spectacle. I was not far away from where the little body lay and once it was only me and the dog there I began to plead with God to perform a miracle.
On the concrete back veranda, I drew on the blackboard nailed to the outside wall and every minute or so, turned to see if Janie had moved. I was not concentrating on drawing. I was merely making marks on the board as I earnestly said prayers, pleading again and again to God to make it not true; to make the little dog sit up once more and run around in the joyful circles for which she was so well known.
But it was not to be and we went to bed that night with heavy hearts and woke the next day to find the umbrella gone,the backyard looking all too normal and not even a mark to show where the little dog had been.
This story (in part) is included in my memoir. I do apologise for writing about dogs meeting with fatal accidents and will endeavour to stop the sad dog stories and try and write something more uplifting in the next Blog!