ANNIE McGUINNESS 29 SEPTEMBER 1996-14 JANUARY 2008 Annie the Grand Old Duchess is with her best pal MacIain now. Poor wee soul was torn between the two loves of her life - MacIain & Tom; she wanted to stay with Tom, but she was tired and missed MacIain. The vet came to our house; we put her basket on the grooming table in the kitchen so Tom could reach her and hold her paw, but the vet couldn't find a vein so he tried the other leg, then her back leg. She had no blood pressure; she should not be alive. After much discussion, it was decided that the vet would take her back to the surgery only ten minutes up the road, anaesthetise her, then administer the drug and bring her back to us. This would save Tom having to go to the surgery and it would be better for him not to see what they were about to do. Our girl was one in a million; she should have died at 12 months when she ran into a truck and smashed up her leg and bruised all her internal organs. Then, when she was spayed, she was the very rare dog that was allergic to her stitches and ended up with gangrene. They had to cut away all the bad flesh and when she had healed her nipples were all out of alignment; now with no blood being pumped round her body she was still hanging on. We have so many fond memories of Annie that she will never really be far from us. She lived her life in the fast lane, which complemented MacIain's almost Rastafarian take on life LIBBY KARIER, GARRY LOW & MOLLY: Our deepest condolences to you all, Jackie. We'll light a candle tonight for Annie. Wishing you peace. LINDA HAMMACK & SASS: You are in my thoughts & my prayers. May your memories bring you peace & comfort. KATHI & SIMON: So sorry that Annie is gone. You have my deepest sympathy. I will light a candle tonight in her honor.

Jackie replies: Thank you to everyone for your kind wishes. We have so many good memories and of course the three hooligans are now without a doggy leader who with one little bark could silence them far quicker than any of my attempts. I can now see the funny side of yesterday and the eloquence of the animal world. While we were waiting for the vet to arrive, we decided to put the hooligans in the day kennel 'cos Elle would scream till she got attention; Mahri would bark & bark; and Mr Mac would run back & forth confused 'cos a stranger was in the house. They will still carry on like that in the kennel, but we will not be deafened or knocked over. They bounded into the kennel anxious to get their tidbit and for the next two hours - silence. The vet came & went & returned - silence. Then we put Annie in my car and slowly drove to the bottom of the garden - silence. We came back and put equipment in the shed next door to the kennel - silence. We put leads on them and took them into the house; the trio rushed to Annie's kitchen basket, sniffed it all over. Rushed to her sitting room basket, barking. Then her hall basket. Then Mahri went to the garage door and jumped up to look through the window to see if Annie was in there. Elle wouldn't eat; she just kept looking at Annie's basket. I had always helped Annie to stand and walk to her bowl before Elle got fed. Mahri kept going to her bed where she was often sent for knocking Annie over in her rush to get to her dinner place. After dinner, they were much more subdued, but not one of them will go near her bed or her dinner place. Well, that was the eloquence now for the funny side . . . it was too sad yesterday, but today as I recounted my story to work colleagues, I can smile, even laugh with them; I know my sister would have laughed her socks off had she been standing beside me. Eleven years ago, we rescued a little Scots pine tree sapling growing wild on an old bing on Lanark Moor near my sister's house. We brought it home and planted it at the bottom of the garden where it could grow as big as it wanted. When McGregor died, we buried him behind it as he loved romping through forests with us. When it was MacIain's turn, he was buried on the south side of the tree and a little bush planted but the wind/weeds didn't allow the bush to grow so his grave was not as clearly marked as it should have been. I took the afternoon off work yesterday to do what had to be done and easier to do it in daylight. I knew it would be heavy going as the clay soil was saturated, but it was Annie's wish to be with MacIain. It wasn't as bad as I expected, or maybe I'd found an inner strength. Then I began to think I should stop and move one pace to my left and start again but I was sad, it was teeming rain and howling winds . . . then shock! horror! As I dug up a clod of earth, a skull rolled off the end of my spade - oops! or several words to that effect. I quickly reburied him and started a new plot one pace to the left . . . yep, this is virgin soil, brick-hard, compacted soil. Tom arrived to see if I needed any help; I know he couldn't do anything, but I said, yes, he could keep me company and tell me if the sides were straight and the bottom level which he did. I never told him about the little mishap; I just said I'd tidied up MacIain's plot and put a new tree in (we had several native trees in pots that Tom was planning to turn into bonsai trees). He went off to pick one for Annie; he picked a mountain ash which was very fitting because these two dogs, Tom & I climbed Ben Nevis - the highest mountain in Scotland (4409 feet) - the year before Tom had his accident. When told it would take eight hours for the round trip, Tom, in true sergeant-major/a'dale fashion, said, "Rubbish, it will take about five hours." He marched us up to the top, where it was misty so we saw nothing, and he marched us home again in five hours.

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