This is the story of my dog called Shandy. He was my favourite pet and he was very lively, lots of fun and very obedient. His main passion in life was to be taken for a long walk, culminating with a big run out in his favourite park.

I would try to take him on this walk everyday, weather permitting. The park itself was about three miles away from our house. To reach the park we had to cross a number of busy roads, however he would never pull or misbehave. He knew where we were heading and seemingly did not want to rock the boat and risk been taken home before he reached his dream destination.

At the park itself I would throw a ball and he would chase it and fetch it back to me.

At this stage I was living at home with my parents, however aged twenty two, I decided to rent my own bungalow near the coast in Devon. This was nearly two hundred miles away from my parents in home in Birmingham. This obviously meant I was no longer in the position to take Shandy on his walk.

I spoke to my parent, who reassured me that they would continue to take him on the walks.

Two weeks after I had left, I had a phone call from my mother. She was panicking, stating that Shandy had managed to escape from the back garden and that she could not find him. She insisted that she had bben looking for hours but that there had been no sign of him.

I was quite worried and thought about where he may have gone to. "Have you been taking him on his walks to the park everyday?" I asked. She replied: "Most days" I asked her to try at the park, telling her that he loves that park etc. "He would not be there, its miles away." She said. I again asked her to try there. Luckily he was there quite happily sniffing around, unaware of the panic he had caused.

Stephen Hill

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