Bonzerooni Poopy Poo Poo, Friend of Heart.

Bonnie lived with us  for six years and eight months. I picked her up straying on the Dreen Road and she ended up staying with us. I contacted the local dog warden but no one was looking for a German Shepherd dog. I never did find out who her original keepers were despite putting posters all over the village. This man telephoned, said he preferred to remain anonymous. He said he knew where the dog had been living, said her owner was seriously ill in hospital and unlikely to recover. He said that this man had two dogs, a collie and the German Shepherd, that they were neglected and chained up all the time. He said that the German shepherd had escaped because she was starving and that he had fed her but she had got away from him. He asked me to try and get the dog a good home because she had a gentle, sweet nature. Then a woman called to the house. She knew something too. She pointed out how underweight Bonnie was and noticed that there was no hair under the chin from where her collar had chafed and rubbed her. She told me that she had a friend who worked as a postman, he knew the house where the dogs were kept and how he would have loved to rescue both of them.

So it was down to us. A week after I reported finding her I bought a dog licence for £10 and under the laws of this country she became my dog. We called her Bonnie. By this time we had bathed her for she had come to us reeking and matted with filth. She found that strange. What puzzled her more was being carefully dried and wrapped in a blanket and placed at the foot of my bed. She looked at me as if she could hardly believe it. Funny though, how quickly she got used to it.

She slept at the foot of my bed until about six months ago when she stopped being able to get down the stairs in the morning. A few times she had slipped and fallen the last few steps and it frightened her. She seemed happy enough to sleep on a sofa as long as she got her night time dog biscuit. On Sunday last as I prepared to go to bed she followed me. She was determined to go upstairs and climbed the steps, slowly, stiffly and went straight to my room. I lifted her on to the bed, gave her a bedtime treat, scratched her ears and cuddled her and we both fell happily to sleep. The next morning I helped her off the bed and she lost her footing. She managed to steady herself and I walked backwards in front of her as she descended the stairs.  I helped her down the last few steps and she didn't fall. We had the usual Monday. Zoe and family came to work in their vegetable garden and Bonnie followed us around. Later  that evening Rod and Tracey came by. Rod was bearing dog treats as always and Bonnie was well to the front of the queue for her share. That night she was happy to sleep downstairs.

The next morning I left the house early as I had planned to take Miss Evie to the seaside. I left Bonnie on the sofa with the door to the outside open so she could go to the toilet when it suited her. Something happened to her between Monday night and Tuesday evening. At supper time she couldn't stand and her breathing was laboured. She didn't want to eat. Throughout the night she became weaker and her breathing was getting more difficult. We called our vet first thing this morning and requested a home visit. We knew we were having her put to sleep. The vet came at half eleven and Bonnie was placed to rest in the garden just before midday.

My big fear for Bonnie was that her hindquarters would give up while she still had some zest for life. That didn't happen. We were blessed that her final illness was swift and that her suffering was short. Going to miss her. Bonzerooni. My pet.

And that crazy title? That was my pet name for her. I know it's completely loony but if you are like me, a fool for dogs, you'll forgive me.


And I still wonder what became of the collie from all those years ago.