The Big Book of Angel Stories by Jenny Smedley

Author:Jenny Smedley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hay House
Published: 2017-07-27T04:00:00+00:00

June’s story

I can remember the day Rover came into my life as if it was yesterday, although I was only six years old at the time. My dad rescued him from a boy who’d been about to drown him. He was a Border collie with a black-and-white coat. I was at exactly the right age to have a dog, and I always felt so safe with Rover at my side. I loved him to bits, and he would never let anyone harm me. He would even watch over me protectively if my mum was telling me off for something. He wasn’t a particularly healthy dog, though, I suppose because of his bad start in life, and by the time he was nine he was going downhill fast.

He started getting lumps on his body, and his back legs went so he couldn’t walk on his own. I still loved him very much and, despite his heaviness, I’d carry him around the house and outside to do his business, and then at night upstairs to bed. I thought we were doing all right, but of course my parents knew the end was in sight for Rover. He couldn’t be allowed to carry on suffering that way. When dogs can’t do normal ‘doggie’ things, they aren’t happy. My dad was off work as he’d a slipped disc and so money was very tight at that time.

As soon as they had enough money for the vet, my parents waited one morning until I had gone off to school to take him, and when I came home that day my precious friend was gone. My mum and dad had loved Rover, too, and the three of us cried and cried together. When I went to bed that night the bed felt so empty without him at first, but then I pulled my pillow down the bed as I always did to make room for Rover at the top and I felt that he was still there with me.

The next morning I set off for school, thinking about Rover with every step. Suddenly I became aware of a clicking noise as I was walking and I finally realized that with every step I took there was the sound of claws on the pavement keeping up with me. Rover was trotting alongside me, keeping watch on me, just as he always had when he was alive and well. This continued, every day, for nearly two years, until we were ready to get another dog.

This was another Border collie, and her markings were like a negative of Rover. They were the same but in reverse: she was white where he’d been black, and black where he’d been white. I named her Sheba because this was the name that was shouted in my head and I knew it was her name. My dad was very strict with our dogs, in as much as he would never let them out in the street, except with him and then only on a leash.

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