Our four-legged friends were determined to stay together, no matter what it took. By Sandie Robertson, 65
Glancing around the rescue-centre room, I spotted a tiny Yorkshire Terrier surrounded by a litter of puppies, curled up in a basket. The exhausted little dog, who was about five, had been used for breeding Adrian most of her life.
‘We’ll take her home,’ I said to my partner, Adrian.
She licked my face when I picked her up, and I decided to call her Daisy May.
We already had another rescue dog, a Border collie called Tess.
Tess was a gentle soul — she’d been tied up in a shed for the best part of two years, before she came to us.
It had taken time and patience, but she’d started to settle and trust us.
She and Daisy May became best friends instantly, as if they were made for one another.
While Tess was highly strung and howled in fear at any noise, Daisy May was spirited and fearless. The pair did everything together, including eating, sleeping and going for walks.
One day, I noticed a lump on Daisy
May’s back and took her to the vet. ‘We can remove it,’ he said.
But sadly, they soon discovered more lumps. And just months later, Daisy May passed away peacefully in my arms.
She was 15, and I felt we’d given her a wonderful decade of life. But still, I was devastated.
‘We still have Tess,’ Adrian said, comforting me. ‘She’s only 10 and in good health, so hopefully we’ll have her for another five years.’
The next morning, I came down to make a cupof tea, and gave Tess’s ears a fondle.
As I turned my back, she walked up the stairs and into our bedroom. Adrian was
