Hope

Since our dog had disappeared one day in Gloucester when I was around 11 years old I’d always wanted another one so from time to time would pester my mum about it. But was always responded to with a no. I’d had other pets growing up, a hamster here and there, a kitten, (although unfortunately she disappeared too!), but it was a dog that I really wanted, and preferably one with the character of Snoopy, one who knew his own mind, was determined.

When I was twenty, my brother suddenly died in a car crash and my world came to a shattering end. With nothing left to lose I was getting a dog, and that was it. No no about it. I had a cocker spaniel in mind. Handily there was a litter of pups ready to be found new homes near where my mum lived in Cambridge so she kindly went round to check them out and report back. She began by telling me what colours they were and as soon as she said there was a black one I stopped her.

‘That’s the one I want.’

‘Lara, the black one is the only one who isn’t docile, he was literally trying to jump up out of the basket whilst all the rest were sleeping.’ 

‘I don’t care, I definitely want the black one.’

My little puppy cocker spaniel, six weeks old, a diddy little squidgy mush of soft black shiny fur, there he was cradled in my arms. I’d call him Hope, as being so absent, it was what I needed in my life.

As not a badoingy new paddy paw could make contact with the pavement until he’d had his booster shots, I carried him in my arms everywhere I went. Like a little baby he nestled in the crook of my arm, happy to start his life seeing the world on the same level as all those he’d come into contact with. He came to all my friends houses, the pub, the shops and even to a music venue on a Sunday afternoon. Wherever I went, Hope came too. It didn’t matter to me if friends had cats in their home. If I was coming to visit you, Hope came too.

Hardly surprising then that he made it very clear how he never considered himself a dog in the traditional sense of how one might be kept as a pet. Even though I made him up a comfy bed in the dog basket placed on the landing outside my bedroom door, at bedtime he would never stop yapping (his voice hadn’t broken yet). I’d get up out of bed, a pushover for giving in to what he wanted, go out and unconvincingly tell him how he needed to sleep in his basket as he sprang up and trotted off into my room making a beeline for my bed. He’d snuggle down on top of the duvet, his head comfortably placed on my pillow. And that’s how it was to be for 16 beautiful years, well except sometimes he’d sleep under the duvet too.

Boyfriends came and went, and weren’t too amused with Hope sharing the bed as I’m sure you can imagine, but Hope was a constant, always there by my side, always with his unconditional love. We had many exciting adventures together, even as far abound as going to live in New Zealand. He had the biggest fan club, everyone just loved him. He was just like the Snoopy character I’d always wanted and more – full of character, full of love, he left a massive imprint of Hopie love on everyones hearts.