Libby wandered into a local pub; she had to collar or tag, no microchip; nothing. Despite reporting her to the police and dog warden, and advertising in local shops, no-one came to claim her. She is a Hancock Lurcher which meant she was tattooed and we could find her age. But whether she was abandoned or escaped we'll never know. When she arrived it was obvious she had been well looked after; in fact a bit too well – she was a bit overweight and out of condition and had very pink pads; all of which tends to suggest she was a pet that had been spoilt. She had definitely had pups at some point. After a few months of decent exercise she trimmed up and got her stamina ran around virtually non-stop while out and then had a mad in the garden when we get back.
Libby was very pretty and her merle coat was often cause for comment. She was very affectionate once she knows you (unusually she tended to be shyer with women more than men), and is sometimes over eager to please to the point that training her was sometimes quite difficult; though being ¼ collie, once she got it she really had got it.
Libby was a real tom-boy; if it could be splashed, sploshed, or rolled in she was in it, and if it smelt disgusting, so much the better.
It would never have been right for Libby to fade away and she didn't. The evening before she died we had been for a walk and we played games in the garden and nothing was wrong. The next day I heard a yelp from upstairs the like of which I had never heard before. Whe I arrived Libby was collaped on the landing and despite my attempts to revive her she died. I can only think had a massive heart attack or brain hemmorage; what ever it was it was quick. Libby had only been a Beastly Beast for 2¾ years, but it seemed that she had been here much longer she fitted in so well. In that time she packed a whole load of things in and lived and loved life to the max.