“Animals are a lot like people, Mrs Simpson. Some of them act badly because they’ve had a hard life or have been mistreated. But, like people, some of them are just jerks”

– An elephant expert on The Simpsons

This week I have been processing the death of Arthur, dear beloved Vizsla of my friend Chloe. He was put to sleep aged 11 on Saturday after developing not one, not two, but three cancers. Arthur has never been a hound to do things by halves.

Poor Chloe has been taking this about as well as can be expected, aka not very well.

I’ve never know a dog and a human to be closer than these two. My various pet sitting for her over the years has largely involved Arthur accepting me VERY grudgingly as a barely adequate Chloe substitute, and sighing and huffing and puffing at the injustice of it all (until walkies).

Witnessing the reunion was always a special joy, though.

Arthur wasn’t a jerk but he was a very anxious and problematic dog. I was one of the very few people he let in the house, and Chloe spent a lot of time on walks worrying that he’d tell off a rival male pooch for coming too close.

He also had serious abandonment issues – like with a lot of pets, lockdown didn’t help in this regard – and my friend’s daughter Maelie is currently enjoying mixed emotions (sad that Arthur is gone, happy that she can finally have friends over for a sleepover).

Chloe and I got back in touch when I had moved to Streatham after my divorce, and she was settling up the road in Tooting.

Chloe’s kid and dog were of a similar age, and our rekindled friendship was mainly one of walking, walking, walking.

Maelie had an incredible range for one so young, and the four of us would walk south London commons and woods, rivers and streams, talking about everything and nothing. I close my eyes and I can see it all like a montage: Maelie getting bigger and bigger, Arthur seemingly the same, the seasons always changing.

I am extremely grateful for every single one of these walks.

Chloe, her partner, and Maelie took Arthur for one last walk a week today. The initial plan had been to go to the sea; then Chloe realised that what Arthur probably wanted was some chill normality.

And so: the old walk around Wimbledon and teetering into Richmond Park. Sausage rolls by the windmill. Splishes and splashes in Beverley Brook. And then home for naps, food, and trying not to think of tomorrow.