It was 1952. I was three years of age and lived in Highgate, with my mother, father, brother, Malcolm and our very naughty dog, Tanny.
This photo, taken by my father, shows Malcolm and me, in the back garden of our house, together with the miscreant, Tanny. You will note that Malcolm is restraining him firmly; had he released his grip, Tanny would have taken off at the speed of light, scaled the garden fence and made for the railway.
TANNY THE DOG
When he was let off the lead, Tanny could be a real baddie,
Refusing point blank to come when called, by anyone other than Daddy,
He would keep his distance and give that well-known, defiant, Tanny stare.
The canine equivalent of two fingers in the air.
Tanny had the power to leap a six foot, garden fence in a single breath,
And leg it off to the railway where he would dice with death.
Unremittingly naughty, Tanny was time and time again picked up beside the live rail,
And brought by the police to our door, where he would sit and wail.
Once inside, at the first opportunity, he would escape into the garden and scale the fence,
Then, straight back to the railway, with which he was obsessed – which made no sense.
He was a motley mutt, half spaniel and half - God knows what! Some called him a freak.
He wasn’t. He was unique.
Maggie Smart
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