Edinburgh, Portobello High School

Clyde the dog

My granddads dog Clyde was a fighting one fellow who lived his life to the full. He lived a powering sum of fourteen years. In our case, for a dog, that is long. Clyde had a lovely coat of armour standing out with a big, shaggy stream of silver and a waterfall of grey fluff.

His personality was full of fun, fear and frolicking. But his one great fear and nemesis was in fact the pigeon. Hours of chasing pigeons of a long stretch of grass and foliage. Constant snapping his jaws at them, dreaming of the moment he had feathers all over the grass planes and a pigeon crunched between crocodile jaws.

But all of that happiness and fun and cuteness of that dog faded away. Clyde got old and the lovely dog turned into a grouchy dog as he entered his older years. He started to bark at people which he never did and his happiness dropped. He got slower when on walks, not as much effort now to fetch a stick or to fetch a ball.

The days went on, Clyde got older and his strength went down. He could not jump into the boot which he used to be able to do. But on the night my granny and granddad came over for dinner, we knew something was not right. I sat with him in the porch hugging him and comforting him he calmed down.

When my granny and granddad got home, he finished his pain and struggle. He slept and drifted away in his sleep, making peace with himself, so subtle and peaceful.