January 12, 2020
A tale of two Westies, Mac and Sammy
My mum and dad planted a little wood north of the Farmyard the year I was born, mostly firs. Mum always called it “Sandy’s Wood”. I remember chickens living there when I was very young, and the area was scrubby. I was given a Westie puppy, Mac, for my 11th Birthday. I saw him only in school holidays because I was at boarding school, and he adored my dad, excitingly biting his boots when dad came back from somewhere.
I remember, as a child of about 13, placing my hands on his back, shutting my eyes and sending him healing for a sore on his back. He eventually grew old and apparently disappeared.
Many years later, after our dog Jemma had died, I was moved to visit Sandy’s Wood to look for Mac’s remains, directed by an inner voice. I found an old part of a backbone, the Sacrum, which I believed was Mac. I brought it home and buried it in a wild part of the garden at Terstan.
We had no plans to have another dog, but shortly after I had buried the remains of Mac, Penny and I were asked if we would look after another Westie, Sammy for a weekend. He had been given to our daughter Sarah, but did not get on with the small children or her cats. He was not well, and she was also concerned because he was shaking a lot. When he came he was nearly an adult, shaking so much we had to carry him about, and upstairs – but settled quickly. Sarah asked if we would keep Sammy. He is still with us about 13 years later, sleeping on the bed curled up beside me as I write, a magical dog, a great Soul. Sometimes I wonder if Sammy was, in a former life, my little dog Mac?
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