JUST before I began to write this piece, I noticed a roguish magpie carrying food to a nest in the upper branches of my neighbour’s evergreen tree. Also busy was a song thrush carrying a beakful of nesting material deep into a nearby thorn hedge. Flowering Lady’s Smock (or cuckoo flower) now visible in fields and damp margins will soon attract the orange-tip butterfly which lays its eggs on the underside of the flower buds.
These sights along with the songs of a great-tit and blue-tit singing near their nest boxes are all tangible indicators of the new beginnings synonymous with spring’s countless life cycles in our natural world.
All these beginnings were dulled by a significant personal ending, the passing of my canine companion of over 15 years, wee Robbie, sometimes featured on this page.
His journey came to an end earlier this month after advanced kidney disease – or maybe just old age.
In the weeks before, he became increasingly tired before finally losing interest in food, even his most favoured treats of chicken or porridge. It was evident, energy was slowly draining from his frail and weary body. This was all very different to the vibrant, headstrong, and mischievous character he was in his prime. Typical of his clan, Robbie’s curiosity was incessant, his eyes and nose never far from investigating something, a shopping bag, wrapped presents, stray socks, soft toys, a cosy blanket, or an open handbag.
Intelligent, playful and loyal, he was unconditional with his responses and affection. The last of a litter, Robbie had a difficult start in life; small, nervous and sick, but once he found his feet, he never looked back. Little did he know that he entered my life at a time when personal demons challenged and questioned my own ability to look after this vulnerable, precious bundle.
As the weeks and months progressed however, it became clear, Robbie was resilient, thriving on the love and care he received from myself and my partner, Katherine. Many pieces on this page over the years were spawned from walks with Robbie by my side on the local brae or at other remote places, where smells occupied his attention and sights and sounds mine.
Those sights continue without his comforting presence – but with all endings come beginnings. Like the two eggs being warmed by a collared dove in my cherry tree, the wriggling tadpoles and young pond skaters I saw recently in a bog pool, and my greening thorn hedge, all encouraged by a warming sun. Such is the way with the natural world as new life commences.
I saw a lone swallow last week, over the River Strule in Omagh, an outlier for the hundreds to follow, which will return to the places of their birth to start new generations of these agile fliers. By the time this piece appears, many may also have heard the wandering call of the first cuckoo of the year.
Robbie’s path has now ended, leaving great sadness, but also many, many happy memories, and experiences of his presence with myself and Katherine, and the many others whose lives he touched. His long, happy, and fulfilled life reflect what is so generous and uncomplicated about our animal friends.
To borrow lines from the poet Byron about his own dog, our Robbie, was in life, ‘the firmest friend / The first to welcome, foremost to defend / Whose honest heart is still his Masters own’. Thanks, wee Robbie for helping an oft tortured soul through turbulent times, giving much joy along the way, and for leaving pawprints on my heart.
