in the 1950`s - before i was born - my parents lived in the middle east.
they had a dog, i think it was a lab or similar.
when they left to come back to the uk, they could not find a home for it anywhere, and there were no rescue homes.
my dad took the dog for one last walk on the beach, then shot it through the head. i believe he was inconsolable at the time. but there was no way he would abandon it.
of course, these days there are places to take an unwanted animal - but not then.
although i never knew the dog - i am still crying just thinking about it, although i really do think that he did the kindest thing.
Silly Milly, as sad as your story is I can understand your Father doing that, and to me that is still kinder than abandoning an animal.
We're supposed to be a nation of animal lovers, just because you have a pet abroad doesn't mean you can abandon it. Bringing an animal back is easier now than it's ever been.
When I was growing up and my Dad was in the R.A.F, we weren't allowed a pet of our own because of the time in quarantine if we brought them back. My Mum and I found a way round this though. In Cyprus (not long after we arrived) when I was around 8 she took in a cat whose owners were being posted back and Puss
lived out her days with us.
Then about 6 years later when we were in Germany I took in a heinz 57, again this was when someone was being posted back to the UK. Rocky was almost what you'd call a street dog. I think he'd belonged to one of the airmen as he was house trained and knew basic obedience but chose to go off and do the rounds of the Mess kitchens, but would always be back at school home time to meet me off the bus.
At weekends and holidays he spent every day with me at the riding stables, and I remember pleading with my Dad when he told me we were posted back to England to let Rocky come with us. He stood firm (and although I almost hated him at the time, he was right) and said to put Rocky into quarantine for 6 months would mentally if not physically kill him. I didn't abandon that dog though, I found someone else to keep an eye on him and take him in. I think he would have survived on his own, but he still enjoyed the comforts of a warm house.
My friends that I left out there kept me up to date with Rocky for about 2 years after I left, but then like a lot of teenagers the letters fizzled out. Probably just as well really, that was over 30 years ago now, but Rocky is still alive and well in my heart.
Rocky
Sorry to go on and to hijack the thread, but it's something that I feel very strongly about, you don't just pack up and leave.
