Remembering Faithful Friends

As any dog owner will tell you there is something very special when you develop a close relationship with an animal.  They provide comfort and company, they are forgiving and unquestioningly loyal and, if you’re that way inclined, they keep your feet warm at night. But it isn’t just dogs that we become devoted to, for cat owners will tell you the same, as do the owners of other types of pet.  People that keep horses rarely, it seems, talk of any other subject (we’ve been a bit guilty of that in the past!) but, and however unlikely this seems to some of us, people form close relationships with cows, tortoises and pretty well any other creature, furry or not.

Thopas, one of several Scottish Deerhounds – and a much younger version of me!

Recently we have lost our much-loved lurcher, Twist, after a short illness.  She was the last of a long line of lurchers and deerhounds that I have owned (or more accurately, have owned me) since being given my first well over fifty years ago.  Taurus, named after my birth sign for he was a 21st birthday gift, was a deerhound x sheepdog and so had brains as well as speed.  Occasionally he would be used to work sheep on a friend’s Exmoor farm and he would cover the rough terrain so quickly that he had to learn to realise that sheep couldn’t run as fast as he would like them to.  When he died back in the early 80s I, as I did with all the subsequent dogs, buried him carefully in our garden.  Although many people would find doing that quite hard, I found that it was comforting knowing that this was the last thing I could do for them, a sort of parting gift.  However, this blog isn’t going to be allowed to dip into sadness for it is a celebration of their and other people’s pets lives, and more especially so about the small, private pet cemeteries that people have created over centuries.

Twist,my last lurcher, left & Taurus, my first, right

I first came across a pet cemetery in a shaded corner of a garden of a large country house where I was Head Gardener.  I’d not really thought about such a thing before but here were rows of stone markers most with names and dates dating back decades.  Enquiry found that they were, without exception, black or golden labradors, working gundogs as well as much-loved family members.  It was a quiet place, not much visited and easily unnoticed other than by those that remembered them.  The second cemetery was when I worked for another large country estate but this time, the pets, mostly dogs were of all sorts of breeds – spaniels, labradors and mongrels.  This time, however, it was a prominent feature for the owners wanted to be readily visible.  The plaque on the wall above the individual names had, I thought a rather lovely sentiment.

Half-hidden by shade but not forgotten – the first pet cemetery I cam across
“Here lie old friends who asked so little and gave so much”

Pet cemeteries were always small, private affairs for only the wealthiest could afford to honour their pets in this way.  With the rising of a more affluent middle class and a growing sentimentality towards animals in general, the Victorians wished to do the same for their pets as they would do for any other family member.  The first cemetery came about more by chance when a dog named Cherry was buried in the garden of the lodge adjacent to Hyde Park in London.  Word spread, more were accepted and by the time the garden closed in 1903 there were well over a thousand pets buried there.  Although now closed to the public, it is still possible to visit the cemetery on occasion.

The pet cemetery at Hyde Park (photo credit: J Rennocks, CC by 4:0, Wikipedia)

Perhaps the most memorable pet cemetery I have visited is the one found at Powerscourt in southern Ireland. The house and grounds are well worth visiting in their own right but the pet cemetery should not be missed.  It is a grand affair with gravestones and even an obelisk dating back well over a hundred years.  The most recent burials date from the 1960s.  Yet it isn’t the obelisk that makes Powerscourt memorable, it is for the shared grave of Eugenie and Princess – perhaps the most loved and honoured cows of all time.

The pet cemetery at Powerscourt, Ireland
The memorial to two much-loved cows at Powerscourt, Ireland

I’m afraid my dogs graves are no such grand affairs for they lie unmarked but no less remembered for that.  Likewise, the graves I found recently when returning to childhood haunts.  Walking along the woodland edge where I once played and made summer camps, I came across more much-loved labradors (they seem to feature prominently in pet graves), obviously quite recent additions.  It is good to know that the simple tradition of burying our pets in the places where they once roamed continues into the present day.

Simple markers for faithful friends on the edge of woodland by my childhood home
What a view those labradors have! I roamed these fields and woodlands with Taurus, my first lurcher

The Peak District’s Soft Centre

Ask people what they associate with the Peak District and you will receive many different answers: Chatsworth House and the Devonshire’s, Bakewell Tart, grouse moors, rock climbing and caving.  The UK’s first designated national park is all of these things and more.

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Chatsworth House

A whistle-stop tour last weekend of the Peak District didn’t allow a thorough exploration of all its diverse scenery.  A drive through Chatsworth’s historic parkland and a visit to their farm shop gave a glimpse of the famous cascade in the gardens but that and the house interior will have to wait for another occasion.  If ‘farm shop’ conjures up a vision of a limited choice of vegetables covered in mud at a wayside shack, think again.  Chatsworth’s huge selection is impeccably presented along with breads, cheeses and meat in the former Shire Horse stallion stable block, now beautifully converted.

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Quality is key at Chatsworth Farm Shop

The town of Bakewell is renowned for Bakewell Tart or to be more accurate, as I now know it should be called, Bakewell Pudding.  Forget the oversweet, thickly iced versions available nationwide, the traditional version is packed full of almonds, the shortest of sweet pastry and not much else.  The queues of people waiting to purchase them stands testament to their quality and flavour.

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Prepare to join a queue!

Only moments away from the busy town centre is the River Wye (one of several in the UK with that name), a place of calm and surrounded by historic, stone buildings.  On Sunday morning, Remembrance Day and the 100-year anniversary of the end of the Great War, brought silence to the town.  As elsewhere throughout the country, the focus at 11 o’clock was the war memorial with the traditional wreath laying ceremonies of scarlet poppies.

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The old mill at Bakewell is available for holiday lets

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WW1 memorial to the fallen men of Bakewell

As already hinted, the Peak District has broad expanses of heather moorland as well as limestone crags and outcrops.  This weekend’s exploration of the Peaks revealed the softer side of the national park; its gentler views were bathed in unseasonably warm sunshine highlighting the last of the autumn colours.

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Peaceful grazing with a view!

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Lengthening shadows as the autumn sun sets

Another visit to the Peaks is planned, next time exploring on foot the passes of the High Peaks, the Chatsworth estate and the village of Eyam, where in 1665 the villagers chose to isolate themselves during an outbreak of bubonic plague.   Of the three hundred villagers, only eighty survived but their self-sacrifice prevented the disease spreading to the neighbouring population.

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Isolated cottages are scattered throughout the national park

Although time was short, a visit to the Blue John Mines couldn’t be ignored.  The story of this rare semi-precious stone and the descent into the caves via two hundred and fifty steps will come next.  If you suffer from claustrophobia or struggle with steps this isn’t the place for you – it’s a long (and sometimes low and narrow), old climb back to the top!

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The descent into the mine