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Poppy - the brindle puppy who went white and orange

I've always threatened to write a book about one of our boxers, Poppy. She came to live with us at the tender age of six weeks, much too young. Her spirit was undeniable from the first night. Having left her settled in the kitchen with the requisite ticking alarm clock, a warm metal hot water bottle, cosy bedding and toys, we were startled to be woken by what we took to be burglars. Peter crept downstairs with trepidation. The kitchen was a scene of utter devastation. This tiny little puppy had only lifted a large number of 18 inch carpet tiles and flung them in all directions in an attention-seeking ploy. This was the start of the nightmare.

I won't bore you with the door-frames we replaced, the wiring in the boot of the car, the disappearing tumble drier wires and all the normal carnage wreaked by a nightmare puppy. After all, this was a puppy who could switch on lights and open any type of door fastening. But I will share with you two of her most extraordinary and colourful efforts.

One day, I left her in the kitchen while we went out. I forgot something so returned in the blink of an eye to an unbelievable sight. Our brindle and white puppy was now completely white, so were our dark green carpet tiles. This amazingly clever animal had opened the pantry door (a small, screw handle) and taken out a bag of flour. She had then crossed to her water bowl, which was on a tray with sides. This heavy china water bowl was then lifted off the tray and carried into the middle of the floor, where it was added to the contents of the bag of flour. Yes, she had made a wonderful, sticky flour and water paste. Clearly, she had been watching Blue Peter too many times with the children.

We moved house when Poppy was a year old, as Peter was posted to another RAF station, necessitating lots of DIY to disguise Poppy's trail of destruction. The new house was in a parlous state, so the RAF very kindly decided to lay a new vinyl tiled floor in the kitchen and utility room. On the day it was laid, the craftsman looked puzzled when I asked for a few spare tiles, but of course he didn't know about Poppy, did he? That very night we went out to a party and locked Poppy in the kitchen. When we returned in the small hours of the morning, dressed in all our finery and somewhat the worse for wear, we opened the kitchen door and had to shriek to Poppy to "STAY", whilst we retreated and changed into working gear. Our dear dog had explored the utility room in our absence, where our son had left some of his modelling paints (oil-based orange and water-based blue) on a high window ledge. Which tin do you think Poppy had chosen? Yes, the oil-based orange, and goodness knows how she opened it. She was now covered in orange paint, as was our new kitchen floor. It's amazing how far a tiny tin of paint can travel in the wrong paws! We managed to get the paint off much of the floor but thankfully the cement hadn't totally set so we were able to lift the heavily stained ones to replace them when the shops opened to sell us some glue. I won't mention the shredded curtains.

Years more of dramas accompanied life with Poppy and the boxers who came to live with her to relieve her loneliness. But that same indomitable spirit which refused to accept us doing things without her also took her to the great age of 14, triumphing over multiple medical problems, including repeated strokes, as she was determined to stay with us as long as she could. Of course, she could well have ended up in Boxer Rescue but we persevered and began rescuing boxers ourselves to keep her company. So this is also the story of how Peter and I got into Boxer Rescue in the first place. Thanks to Poppy, we also got to share our lives with Emma, followed by Chester, briefly Bonnie and now Garbo, Tilly and Murphy. And, of course, to meet all you lovely boxer people and the splendid dogs.