Titch: Where is he?
Me: Where's who?
Titch: Westy. My neigbour. You know.
Titch: There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?
Me: Titch, you'd better sit down for this.
Titch: Don't be ridiculous!
Me: You're right. Sometimes I forget. Well, you know that Westy was old?
Titch: Older than me?
Me: Much older than you. And he had that bad leg, which never really got better. And he was in a lot of pain. In the end, there was nothing more they could do.
Titch: You're talking about the vet with the...with the...?
Me: I'm afraid so.
Titch: I'll really miss him
Me: Me too. Westy was a real gentleman.
Titch: More so than me?
Me: I'm afraid so. You've got some way to go yet.
Titch: But did he have a famous grandfather? I bet his grandfather wasn't as famous as mine!
Me: Maybe not. But not everything's about you, you know.
Titch: Perhaps not... You know, I always felt safe with Westy. He saw me past cows, and wheelie bins. Told me not to worry. Said he'd look after me.
Me: Yes, he did.
Titch: Not any more, though.
Me: No. Not any more.
Titch: Everyone's been looking so sad.
Me: Yes. We all miss him. He was one in a million.
Westbury (Westy to his friends) died last Thursday. He is buried in a field on the farm where he lived for most of his life. We all miss him very much.