Timmy I've mentioned before. A lovely, gentle dog - children would run to cuddle him in the street - "Look, it's Lassie!" and he loved it.
John had wanted a dog so we got Timmy before John had to go to school and would have some time with him. When I brought the puppy home as a surprise, John said, "What you've got in your arms is a dog called Tim" - so 'Tim' became part of the family.
He was addicted to fetching sticks. If he couldn't find the one which had been thrown he would fetch the next best thing. One time Phil had taken him for a walk in Kirrie Den before we moved to Redhall, thrown him a stick but had a different one brought back. We later discovered that 'the stick' was in fact a young tree that had recently been planted in the Den and had been uprooted, along with many others, by vandals. I planted it in my garden in Bank Street and when Timmy died we replanted it on his grave at Redhall where it still flourishes.
Our next two dogs came to us when my uncle died and his wife, my Auntie Peg had to move into town. They were Bob, a sheepdog, and Robbie, a spaniel. Robbie was a great retriever - even brought me one of my hens - Henrietta - luckily she survived but never forgave him.
Bob would go walkabout on occasions but always landed lucky. He particularly loved young ladies - followed two on bikes and stayed overnight - reluctant to leave when we tracked him down. Another time a policewoman picked him up and carried him about in her police-car for a day before he went into the slammer. Two things he loved best - ladies and travelling in cars - his day was made. We bailed him out but, whenever possible, he would go in search of adventure and always managed to have a good time and meet with kindness.
He had a friend, Big Will,(see Fowl section) and they are buried together, both having died peacefully of old age.