IT’S not just people who grow old and infirm and in need of our help.
Because wee Mac – the outstanding Lakeland terrier who has packed every drop of energy into every waking minute for 17-and-a-half years – has run his race. Regular readers of this column will be familiar with his adventures.
He’s still alive, though, and let’s hope he’s got another summer or two in him. But he’s suddenly a shadow of his former self. Dúlra was simply heartbroken this week to see his decline. When a flame burns so bright, it extinguishes just as quickly.
In the past Dúlra had only to go out the back and whistle or click and Mac would burst through the neighbour’s hedge to find out what was up. And of course there was always something up in Mac’s world.
Mice, cats, squirrels – they all took him to new levels of frenzy. Of the three, mice were the most maddening. Every waking moment of Mac’s life seemed to have been filled with thoughts of mice – how to hunt them down, how to kill them. And at night when Mac finally got some relief from his tormentors, Dúlra’s convinced that his every dream was about his biggest yet smallest foe.
When you feed wild birds in the garden with seeds and nuts like Dúlra does, mice are never far away. And so neither was Mac. He’d often look out the kitchen window to see his arse sticking out of the privet hedge while he searched for them. But the mice knew how easy it was to outsmart him – they just climbed. But then Dúlra outsmarted the mice by shaking the whole hedge, driving Mac into a barking frenzy as he was overwhelmed by thoughts of the mice that were about to fall into his snapping jaws. Dúlra only had to brush against the hedge and Mac would appear from nowhere to be by his side, barking in anticipation of the falling mice that of course never seem to appear.
But this week, Mac didn’t arrive on Dúlra’s call. Dúlra went to the neighbour’s house to see if Mac was about, and there he was sitting alone in the back yard enjoying the spring sun. Dúlra called again, but Mac didn’t budge.
A clap got his attention, and wee Mac peered up through grey cataracted eyes. Dúlra called again, and Mac seemed a little confused, tilting his head but not budging. It was as if the voice was vaguely familiar, but he just couldn’t remember it. And then Dúlra decided to do the one thing the wee terrier could never resist – shake the privet hedge. It took a while, but Mac finally arrived – but at a slow arthritic walk rather than his customary dash.
He managed a single bark at the swaying hedge and those elusive mice before looking at Dúlra as if to say: Can’t you see I’m done?
Dúlra led him indoors and gently fed him a sausage. Dúlra always gave him a sausage or two, which he loved (just don’t tell owner Andy who insisted on keeping Mac on a vegetarian diet). It was because of Andy that Mac has reached such a tremendous age – together they’ve climbed to the summit of countless mountains across Ireland and Scotland and Mac was surely Ireland's fittest dog.
After his sausage, wee Mac walked slowly to the back door mat and sat down. There he was content to sit there and let the world go by – just like an old man enjoying the sun on the porch of a care home.
Mac’s given us his all for 17 years – rarely missing Dúlra’s danders across the Belfast Hills. And for every mile Dúlra walked, you can multiply that by 10 for Mac as he zigzagged through the ditches and fields up ahead.
It’s rare to see an animal in old age – in the wild they are picked off by predators when they show the first signs of weakening. Dogs can be the exception. Dúlra’s old family dog Rebel lived to a ripe old age – he too became blind in old age. Dúlra remembers with a smile him walking into the old-style metal bin every week when the binmen would leave it back in a different spot.
When Rebel died, Dúlra watched in tears from the bedroom window as his brother and his da buried him in the back garden in the pouring rain. Dúlra later made a wooden cross for the grave.
When Mac’s time comes, there will be tears shed. But not by the mice in the privet hedge.
• If you’ve seen or photographed anything interesting, or have any nature questions, you can text Dúlra on 07801 414804.
