Roy’s arrival in Australia, at the age of 9 months, was cause for celebration. Although his stay was to be only 12 months after which he would return to his home in New Zealand. His lovable personality, zest for life, and mischievous nature soon made him a much loved part of the family.

  His first few weeks saw cupboards, previously untouched by doggie paws, opened, items removed and strewn around the house. Not content with removing the contents of the cupboards, he began to systematically destroy every plastic container he could find; plastic bags, cups, plates, and Tupperware. After coming home from work each day for three weeks to find total devastation from kitchen to lounge I finally yelled at him and told him enough!! He was going on the first plane back to New Zealand. On arriving home the next day, nothing. Not an item out of place, and it was to remain that way from then on. There was still the odd chewed item, but this was generally confined to things left lying around. No more trashed cupboards.

   Weeks after his arrival came the big event of his first show weekend. It soon became apparent that this little fellow who would roll on his back and demand tummy tickles whenever you sat down, and at bedtime, was a totally different character amongst other dogs. Lead on and out of the car for a walk saw his personality change. Still fun loving, but now commanding attention from those around. Strutting about full of self confidence, and giving off an air of cockiness. But by the end of the weekend he had proved he could not only talk the talk, he could also walk the walk, and did so with consummate ease. The minute he entered the ring, there was no dispute as to his intentions. He loved to show off, and did so like a seasoned veteran. We returned home laden with trophies, ribbons, and the now confirmed knowledge that this was just the beginning for the youngster. He quickly gained his title and by August became an Australian Champion at 12 months of age. Nary a show day passed without a win.

A few months later I received a phone call saying it was no longer feasible to have Roy back at the end of the 12 months and the offer was made to keep him. I had wondered how I was going to part with him when the time came. Now I didn’t have to worry about that, and the lovable fellow was a permanent member of the clan.

   In the first few months he also showed his love of the hunt. Whilst at a hunt display we let him give it a go thinking that just as our other westies, he would not be interested. To our suprise, after one circuit around the makeshift tunnel, he was in like a flash, straight to the rat at the end of it. This was the first sign of his love of hunting and keen instincts.

1996 saw a break from the shows to accommodate a change of homes and studies to be complete. Moving to a town block didn’t faze him, or Gemma, and the gardens became his playground, spending his days hunting anything that moved. However, as summer approached, and the cane toads came out of hibernation, he had to be confined to the house, and only allowed in the yard on a lead. (Cane toads hibernate in winter, and in summer come out at night and during rainy weather. They secrete a white substance from their necks which is highly toxic to dogs.)

   In February 1997, the unthinkable happened. I arrived home from work to find Roy in seizures on the kitchen floor. An emergency dash to the vet confirmed my fears....toad poisoning. Left in Ian’s capable hands, but fearing the worst, I returned home. I searched downstairs, but was unable to find the culprit. For three days almost completely comatose, Roy clung tenaciously to life. Each morning and afternoon, I would visit surgery where I could hold and talk to my comatose mate. On the afternoon of the 3rd day whilst on my way to the surgery again, the phone rang. My heart skipped a beat as I heard Ian’s voice saying "I have some news for you". Upon arriving at the vets, there he was....wobbly and weak, but walking around. It was an amazing change from the comatose dog I had left in the morning. Everyone was amazed. Roy had defied the odds. Ian had never had a dog go so long before and pull through. Not wanting to be parted any longer I took him home that day and watched him carefully for any side effects his ordeal may have caused. The downstairs however, was now off limits as well, since it was not the safe haven I had thought it to be.

 Within a week he was back to his normal self. Playing with Gemma, and giving a mouthful of cheek if you didn’t pay him the attention he thought he should have. The only change I could see in my little mate was that we were much closer. So much so that he was under foot all the time, almost tripping me on several occasions, and succeeding once. No longer content to sleep beside me at night, but on me, draped over me in some way. As 1997 drew to a close, I realised that even with his puppy antics, I had a mature westie on my hands, with the potential now for great achievements in the show ring.

   The morning of 15 December 1997 saw plans put in place to get the now matured Roy back into the shows by March 1998, following the hot weather. Gemma was bathed in the laundry downstairs and put in her crate to dry. The door to the stairs was left open for Roy to be able to run up and down as he liked to know where Gemma was, and being daytime, should have been safe for him to do so. About an hour later I went down to let her out and bring them both back upstairs. Lying on the floor in front of her crate was Roy. At first glance, I thought he was asleep, but soon realised something wasn’t right. My little mate was gone. Victim of a cane toad once again, but this time, there was no reprieve. His love for hunting had cost him dearly. Able now to hunt to his heart’s content, and with a freedom he never before experienced.

   The house is quiet now. No biscuits thrown around the floor as was his habit. No balls found in every room. His squeaky toy sits on the cupboard. Memories of his smiling face, cheeky looks, the way he held himself so proud in the showring, that friendly nature that endeared him to everyone, will remain with me always. A small grave under a tree in the yard can be seen from the patio. A peace lily sits in the lounge room in memory of my little buddy. Sadly missed, but never to be forgotten. There will never be another quite like my Royboy.