Peter Chave

He was a friend of mine. Before I moved to France in 2007 we were very close. Since then we exchanged birthday and Christmas greetings and the occasional email. I emailed him a few weeks ago to tell him to look out for The King's Speech, I knew he would love the film. I heard nothing back. I rang. The telephone operator told me the number was unavailable.
I googled, I searched Peter Chave and his name popped up first. An obituary in the dog press informed me that Peter had died.
Peter was very well known in the world of dogs. Very well qualified in the world of dogs. Probably what he didn't know about dogs perhaps wasn't worth knowing. He loved dogs more than children. That was a weakness and could upset at times. I took my grand son to see him and Peter refused to come near the pushchair, 'If he was a puppy,' he said. I didn't like him for that. But, when my dog, Scoot the cocker spaniel, was a puppy I took him to see Peter. Peter was a very very keen gardener. He was very clever with his flowers and vegetables. Scoot of course ran amok through the lot. I panicked trying to control this naughty puppy. 'Leave him, leave him,' said Peter, 'he's only a puppy.'
Peter met and judged thousands of dogs. He said once that my dog, Scoot, was the loveliest, kindest natured of all the dogs he's ever come across. I loved him for that.
We walked our dogs, King and Scoot, each morning on Teignmouth beach. Sometimes we went to Haldon moor. We talked and talked. I learnt a lot from him. Probably all that I know about gardening and a great deal about dogs. I went to dog shows with him. We watched Crufts together and I listened to his expert views. I know he enjoyed my chatter as well. I'd make up stories about the people and dogs we met on our walks. He was a lovely man. He will be missed, dying, when your 57, like me, at quite a young age in his mid seventies.
There's a tale that when a dog dies it goes to heaven. We'll call him King, because that was the rough collie that Peter owned when I knew him.
King went to heaven and enjoyed his new life playing with the dogs there. But sometimes King would look towards the bridge crossing from the earth world to his. One day he looked, and his ears alert, his nose twitched with the scent of someone he knew, his tail shot in the air and wagged furiously as he ran towards his master, Peter.
Peter, my friend I will never forget you either. Rest in peace and be united in the afterlife with all of your dogs.