Saturday 15th October was the last day of a balmy Indian summer in London, before the weather turned and life became colder. A metaphor, somehow, for beloved Scooch who was gently put to sleep that day after succumbing to his recent illness, borne throughout with proper cocker spaniel levels of brio : his tail never ceasing to wag and walking with Susan until the day before.
There's no way to begin to say how much we miss him and the poignancy of his empty basket ( two in fact, for he naturally had one on each floor of the studio ) and his jar of Bonios is almost too much to bear. His ears were a design fault, of course. And he was the only dog in London who showed no interest in squirrels, cats or pigeons, preferring the dregs of a cup of semi-skimmed Latte.
In his office life, he saw oligarchs and Fedex guys, brokers and postmen. All were met by that black nose at the end of his dappled snout, his bright eyes and ever-beating tail. Scooch didn't do barking or biting, but was a skilled practitioner of hanging around nonchalantly while lunch was being made. He, along with me, Simon and Susan, made the journey from Burnsall Street to Wandsworth Bridge Road, snaffling every half-finished sandwich along the way.
Gentle beyond words.
Handsome beyond measure.
Loyal to his bones.
What a dog.
Scooch Bannenberg
2000 - 2011
