-foreword-

I had already wrote this post. I wrote it to perfection. Then a slight technical glitch meant that I had lost my 90 minutes of heartbreaking words. I am going to try again. This is going to be nothing like the original post. I doubt it will ever have the same feeling to it- but I will try to re-write my words.

I am going to chronicle what is probably the end of my relationship with my first dog. I am having issues with the tense I should be using. Is or was are impossible to chose from. There is a chance they are both still alive and well, which means that Liddle is a little bitch bag. However, their whereabouts is unknown to us and it has been four winter months the realist in me says even if they are by some miracle still alive. They are not with me or in my life. So then Liddle was a little bitch bag. The past-tense makes me feel physically sick.

We got our first family dog, Stella, summer 2002.
We rehomed my dog, Liddle, in 2004.
I lost my grandfather in August 2011.
I left home for university in Edinburgh in September 2011.
My dog’s went missing November 11th 2011.
I returned from university for Christmas December 20th 2011. 

In my favourite book is The Hundred and One Dalmatians by Dodie Smith. In which the dogs consider their human their pet. But let the humans feel they are in charge. This was definitely the case when Liddle was rehomed by my dad and came to live with us. She was a stubborn girl- we thought stuck in her ways already. She was given to us on account of her terrier instincts being too strong and her being a prolific chicken murderer (We were not told about this- and at this point I had a hobby, one which involved owning bantams) She took a shine to me, and so it was decided; Liddle was my dog. And I was her human. We trained her out of her murderous ways over time and eventually her and Stella (a whippet cross) were able to share the garden with a free range trio of chickens and our rabbit who shared the chicken coop and free range of the garden. 

She was my first terrier and the dog that was entrusted to me to train and take responsibility of. She decided it was my bed she slept on if allowed upstairs, me or my clothes she would search for and nest amongst when frightened by storms or fireworks and my feet she would wait by when food was around- knowing that if it was something ‘suitable’ I would sneakily save the last bite for her. She was mine, and I was definitely hers. 

There came a point in my life early 2010- which I think most people feel; I had started to feel nothing but the urge to leave home. I had chose universities as far away from home as possible. And I waited. Months down the line I had a place up in Edinburgh confirmed. And a month before I left for my new life I received a phone call telling me that my Grandad, my favourite person in the world did not have long left. So the motions happened, life does what life eventually does and I was desperately unhappy. The relationship between me and my father had deteriorated and all I wanted was to cross the border over to Scotland. In this last few weeks I confided in my pet. I told Liddle everything I was feeling and she seemed even more doting than normal. Whether or not this was her picking up on my emotional cues and comforting me, or noticing the void between me and ‘the pack’ and trying to scupper my preparations to leave I will never know. I wanted to believe that she understood my words so I also made her promises. I promised that I would try my hardest to find a lease in my second year that allowed me to keep pets. And that I would take her to Edinburgh with me. If she did not like city life- when I came home for Christmas she could stay back in the family home with the two dogs already owned by me my dad and my sister, and my fathers girlfriend’s two dogs. That was the deal I had struck up with her as she sat on piles of my clothes, sorted and folded ready to leave with me. 

On the morning I left I posted the following picture to facebook, where I had put Liddle amongst my belongings which were packed in the car and captioned it saying that ” Everything I need/want is in the car neatly. Let’s go!” I kissed her on the top  of her head. Told her not to be a complete bitch bag and that I would see her in a few months time when I come home for Christmas. For the first time in a month she seemed disinterested by my presence. I think she knew I was leaving her. And had not understood a word I had said about how desperately I needed to move away and that I would be coming back for her. That or she was angry with me.

I am constantly in touch with my sister via BBM. And the 2 months that followed included me being told that I was missed by the dogs and that Liddle had been looking for me. Which is probably where a lot of my guilt comes from. There are so many stories about dog’s devotion to their owners. Part of me is ridiculous enough to hope that Stella and Liddle went missing whilst looking for me.

After a short spell of homesickness in late October I recieved an instant message from my sister saying that Stella and Liddle had been on a walk and not come home. I was not worried. They are country smart dogs. I was worried when it got dark and there was no news. Then when it got light again and there was no news. And then when my dad had admitted that he was worried and authorities were informed and posters created back home. So I did what I do best: The internet. My twitter feed became nothing but a plea for information and the girls were signed up to doglost.co.uk- something I still check on a daily basis. I checked all Shropshire and Powis re-homing centres just in-case there was my baby- with a name that was given to her by someone else, waiting in a cage to be owned by someone else. And still nothing.

There was one lead. Someone had found a deerhound puppy and mistook her for Stella. I called home and forwarded the number, and there was, for about half an hour, hope that at least one of the girls would be found. I then felt nothing but rage. How could someone mistake a brindle deerhound pup, for a mature ginger whippet cross? The kindness of strangers- which at one point had been so comforting then was not good enough. I know people suggest things that they think will help. But when they were suggesting things which had been done/details were already published in the links I was sending out like “Tell the local vets” “do they have collars on” “What about the dog warden” I felt a sea of anger- which was not fair. Every time my phone went I would feel butterflies in-case it was news.  It never was. It was trivial things. Or people asking “Have you found your dog’s yet?” I should never have felt that anger, but I did. I just wanted to know the whereabouts of my dogs. Even if it had been the worst news; and a carcass had been found. At least we would know and I could have justified that anger as one of the stages of grief. 

So four months have passed since they disappeared. And I have summarised the bond I felt with my dog. The first dog that was my own. I knew that leaving home, I would one day return for Christmas or Summer holidays and there would be an empty basket or one less food bowl. I was not naive. Life happens. But I was not expecting there to be two less dog bowls on my first return to the place I grew up. 
There was no way I could have continued living in Shropshire due to the amount of unhappiness I began to feel there. But I don’t think I would have lasted as long as I did without my dog. My month back for Christmas was too much after two weeks; everyone had ‘their pet’ and I was missing mine. It made the transition from uni back to home so hard. I felt I didn’t have an ally, and I constantly felt like a guest. She was my best friend. She didn’t judge, or say harsh words. She loved me unconditionally, she comforted me, she kept me active, she would listen and she would make me laugh. She was my piglet. And I hope she can still be found. Even if this means she no longer trusts or respects me for leaving her. Not knowing if she is safe and well has kept me up countless nights. I know that every relationship ends. I can accept that and I have learnt that. I need to know whether or not it is actually finished though. With each day My glass feels less half full and more half empty. And I am disappointed in myself for this as I promised I would not give up on Liddle or Stella. 

Below are the doglost.co.uk links for both her and Stella. 
http://www.doglost.co.uk/dog_blog.php?dogId=34399 

http://www.doglost.co.uk/dog_blog.php?dogId=34400 

1. (500) Days of Summer
2. The Bodysnatcher
3. Wallace and Gromit Attack of the Were Rabbit
4. Bedknobs and Broomsticks
5. Sherlock Holmes
6. Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
7. Casablanca
8. The Princess Bride
9.  Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows pt 1 
10.  Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows pt 2

11. Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist
12. The Men Who Stare At Goats
13. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
14. Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
 

1. (500) Days of Summer
2. The Bodysnatcher
3. Wallace and Gromit Attack of the Were Rabbit
4. Bedknobs and Broomsticks
5. Sherlock Holmes
6. Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
7. Casablanca
8. The Princess Bride
9.  Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows pt 1 
10.  Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows pt 2

Decided I would watch 365 films this year (Not one per day- just as and when I feel.) The list so far.

Reshaped my eyebrows
Got addicted to watching makeup tutorials
Tried makeup tutorials
Booked up a few appointments for SKINT Nails 
Curled my hair 
Straightened my hair
Messed my hair back up again
Considered tidying my room
Read 4 pages of the required reading
Sat looking on nails inc. 
Got dressed
Got changed again
Made an ultimate Christmas spotify playlist
iPlayer
Made in Chelsea Season 1 on youtube
A LOT of Facebook