Tilly the sheep dog is in a world of her own causing some concern at the farm on the M62

The sheep, for the most part, drive us to despair. The cows which are multiplying in numbers at an alarming rate (Paul thinks I haven’t noticed) and our ever loyal and hard-working dogs, all reliant on us as we are on them.

Some stay, some go and some leave us utterly bereft when their time comes to an end. Farming hardens you and almost forces you into a sense of detachment when it comes to livestock.

But that stoically stiff upper lip and thick skin soon disappears when it’s one of your favourites.

Tilly came into Paul’s life round about the same time as I did. A very beautiful smooth-coated bitch, she quickly proved herself to be a superb little work dog, with a kind, affectionate temperament. For several years, however, she walked in another dog’s shadow, Bess.

“Ay she’s a good dog, but she’s no Bess,” were words I heard muttered many times. In Paul’s eyes, nothing came close to Bess. I can understand it, she was quite simply the best. Her passing stole the very light from Paul’s eyes and it was some time before his laughter returned.