Remembering my first pet, Fiver

Fiver was a special dog – smart as a whip, an amazing sense of smell, jet black and the friendliest dog any of us had met.

It’s hard for me to remember a time in my childhood without her. She arrived into our lives when I was 5 and was a constant, welcome feature until I was 21. From swings and teepees in the back garden, to walks around the fields of the village I grew up, she was always there.

From a cuddle goodbye when I moved out of my Mum’s house to excitedly greeting me for that first cuddle through the door every time I came back to visit (it’s like she had a sixth sense of when I was arriving), she was an amazing friend to have.

We got Fiver when she was still a tiny and rather poorly pup. My mum is a big believer in adopting rescue animals, and on that fateful mid-80s visit, the whole family fell in love with her from the moment we saw her.

As children, whenever my three siblings and I introduced Fiver to anyone, we exclaim that she was the best £5 Mum ever spent! In fact, as you’ve probably guessed by now, the amount our mum donated to the shelter is also where Fiver got her name. Actually, mum donated a bit more than was asked, but Seven Pounds Fifty isn’t quite such a catchy name.

Fiver was calm and calming. She was truly a part of the family, so much so that she used to blend in and become almost invisible. I could walk through the living room where she would be sitting in front of the fire, be asked if we knew where she was and have no idea I’d even passed her!

She was also smart and quick and loved to escape. Once summer, before she’d been spayed, she twice managed to slip out under the hedge and pay a visit to the lovely scruffy farm dog half a mile down the road. Nine weeks later, a litter of puppies arrived, all of whom found happy homes around the village except one, who we could bear to part with. We named him Bentley.

It was lovely for Fiver to have a friend that wasn’t a child or a cat. Finally she had someone she could run through the fields with. As Bentley grew up and didn’t need (much) mothering anymore, they became the best of friends.

Bentley was a lovely boy, although he didn’t seem to quite inherit his Mum’s wits or sense of smell. When we would throw a stick or ball in a field, Bentley would hover looking none the wiser and leave it to Fiver to locate it. Then she would dutifully let him collect it, so that he could trot back to us as if he’d done all the work.

Most days, we would take Fiver and Bentley on what we called ‘the round trip’ – a 1.5 mile loop of countryside that took us around the fields and byways of the village where I grew up. It was always an opportunity for us to spend some time together as a family (dogs included) and I loved how much calm it introduced to the day. Whether you’re 8 or 80, there’s something undeniably positive that happens to mind and body good when walking a dog.

I loved the roundtrip too when I got older and was allowed to walk the dogs with friends. Seeing the seasons change the landscape, nodding to fellow walkers that you’d see regularly, playing game after game, throwing ball after ball.

When I started to write about my relationship with my first pet, I asked my Mum to scan in a few photos from home. I hadn’t forgotten what our pets looked like, but nevertheless I really wasn’t prepared for the flood of emotions that would hit when I saw them again. It’s a very difficult feeling to describe: grief, happiness, longing. She was family.

This is a commissioned post for Petplan.