Robert the Westie. My life. By me.

22. A final word from Sophie.

Dear reader, just like me you have made it to the end of this extraordinary story. I wonder what made it extraordinary for you? Might it have been Robert’s skill with fabric, well, the fabric of the history that he has chosen to explore, so many incongruous events woven into a surprisingly coherent pattern, so many isolated incidents that somehow determine later folds and ripples in the grand design, or even ones we have yet to experience? 

Probably what makes it remarkable for most of you is simply the unexpected nature of the narrator. I mean his doginess, of course. As you might guess, I am well beyond the surprise of that. For me, the extraordinariness lies not in the emergence of an enthralling historic memoir. No, for me it is to be found in the sheer magic of the bond between this dog and this man. 

In a world that, frankly, I find quite profoundly messed up, a story of such deep affection, selflessness and mutual respect is one that would touch our hearts were it based in the more familiar territory of human relationships. The fact that this bond vaulted the boundary of different species surely sounds a note of hope on the darkest of days.

There’s too much fear around, you know. We’re bombarded with too many bad news stories, ones that shine too bright a light into the darker corners of the human experience, ones that, in the past, before that damn Internet thing, might never have reached us. My Westie friend is far from oblivious to the darkness. But a warmth and humour shines through that lifts my spirits every time I return to his reminiscences.

Robert, I know, still observes the every move of those he knows and loves. I haven’t heard from him in quite a while. Bloody Napoleon has been monopolising my free time. But I live in hope of an update from my favourite Westie one day soon.