Author: Daniel

It snowed and was very cold in the week after Timothy died.  I went out into the garden as usual to clear the snow for the hens and to give them water in place of their ice.

It was one of the sad times to see something without Timothy for the first time: we’d normally either go outside together, or he’d go outside first and I’d follow.  It was the first time for years that I had to break into the snow: normally I’d be following his paw prints.

He didn’t mind snow, he didn’t seem to have much opinion at all on it really.  He never refused to go out in it, even as much as he would for heavy rain.  He did, though, want a biscuit after having his feet wiped when coming in.  Probably as much for the wipe down as the biscuit – he liked being dried with his back against me as I wiped each paw and scrubbed his underneath dry.

Three of my favourite photos of Tim are not necessarily the best we have of him, nor of the best times, but thet are the ones I like even when he was still around – so I treasure them even more now that he’s not.

Outside the bakery

He was often tied up to the old red metal bench (since removed) outside the baker’s while I went in – he could always see me, and I could always see him: the doors were usually open, but were glass anyway.  It had been snowing, and he waited in the snow.  When I came back out, he wanted to get walking ASAP so gave a bark  The photo caught a bit of his breath against the cold air.  Later I edited out his lead so the picture has just him in it.

Weymouth harbour bridge

It was so sunny that he had his eyes closed, but he had already surveyed his surroundings from the elevated spot.  The photo shows him sunbathing – it shows his “superior royal” pose.

Tongue out playing on the lawn

He played so rarely, but really had a good run and enjoyed that afternoon on a sunny day.  He’d chased up and down the garden a lot, after multiple squeaky toys.  The photo captures his big smile that he had every time he was that hot and so happy.

Soon after Timothy first moved in with us, I took him back to Selby to see my mum twice in a couple of months – and both times we went via Hull Trains from Kings Cross direct to Selby.

The first time on the Hull Train was THE first time Timothy had been back to Selby – so it was a bit like a “test” to make sure that we had not done anything wrong or that he’d put on too much weight etc.  A member of the train crew said hello to Tim and asked where we were going.  I told her about feeling a bit like we were being checked up on, and she said Timothy looked nice and happy so she was sure we’d be fine.

The next time, a couple of months later, the same train crew lady recognised us, and remembered why we were travelling.  She said hello again and said she was pleased to see we were doing well.

She must’ve been on hundreds of train journeys since the first time she saw us, but she still remembered Timothy.

Parks and the countryside bored Timothy.  He was not bothered with walking along a canal or around a lake.  He would, but only as a favour to us.  When I’d take him on the bus to Ruislip Lido, he enjoyed the bus ride WAY more than the walk around the lake.

Once he even tried to get back on the bus as we passed it: we were not on the way home, only walking past a bus which was waiting at a bus stop: the door was open, so he got on!

He MUCH preferred city walks in busy placed – the smells there must be much more interesting.  Station concourses like Kings Cross, I’m positive, were his favourite places.  He loved going on trains – he’d get to look out of the window AND stay with me for hours at a time – but even walking through a busy station, he’d enjoy that.

With his orange hi-viz harness on, and sniffing at bags and trolleys, people must have thought that he was working as a drugs sniffer dog.  no: just being nosey.

Everyone loved Timothy, and often people wanted to spoil him.  In one office that I went to, the girls in the office went to Waitrose one lunchtime and bought a packet of dog treats.  Each time we visited that office, he had some.

In another office, after realising that Timothy LOVED crisps, the guy would get an EXTRA bag of crisps for lunch, and share them with timothy.

At an old lady’s house that we sometimes visited, there was already a dog there.  Timothy was supposed to share half of one of that dog’s normal type of treat chew.  He NEVER did.  Each time we went, he’d refuse the dog biscuit.  The old lady upgraded her offer to shortbread, and Timothy accepted.  The other dog sometimes got some too, but not always.  Timothy knew how to make sure he got the best.

Timothy LOVED shortbread biscuits.  Like they were made of crack.  Sometimes Annette had a shortbread finger with her cup of tea in the mornings.  Timothy knew where the tin was, and what it sounded like when it was opened.  He’d ecpect a cut of any biscuit – at least the last 5mm.

Often we’d come home from shopping with all the food in bags, take out a Mini Markies box, empty the biscuits into a container, and put one Markie back in the box for Timothy to tear open and get to.  It took a bit of encouragement and reassurance that he COULD do it, but he learned.

He learned so well that one day we left the shopping in bags and went out, forgetting about the packet of shortbread fingers.  10 fingers in a packed.  Timothy sound it, opened it, and ate EIGHT, leaving only two.

Heroically, he still ate his dinner that evening.  He maintained his love for them, having had some most weeks, including in his last.  Shortbread biscuits will always remind us of Timothy.

Timothy was very well behaved and would hardly ever steal anything that wasn’t his.  If we gave him something that seemed “too good to be true”, his first reaction was that it was a misunderstanding.  We’d have to reassure him that it WAS his.  He’d look at us in the eye to check,m and then yawn with the stress and pressure of digesting such a thought.

“But Timothy you’re a GOOD BOY, the chicken wing is YOURS!  Take it, GOOD BOY” – we’d have to say.  Once he was sure, he’d pick it up, take it to somewhere carpeted so that he’d be comfortable, then work through his prize.

Before we took most of our photos of Timothy in his bag, we’d have to ask him to sit still for a photo.  He MUST have known something was happening because SO often he’d lift his chin as if actually posing for the camera.  He was very photogenic and really seemed to love his photo being taken – maybe because he was the centre of attention, or he learned that we were very happy with him after he’d posed for us.