It was March 2000. I remember going to the RSPCA animal shelter, excited to choose a puppy. We had been married for a year and a puppy was going to be our anniversary present. We fell in love with d’Artagnan straight away and brought her home to our little townhouse in Mitchell Park. Naigee, who we had had for about 5 months, wasn’t impressed. D’Artagnan was the same size as her bit a lot more rambunctious. And one ear flopped down and the other went straight up.

On March 27, 14 years after we brought d’Artagnan home and 21 years to the day that Monte and I met, Dart died. She was strong until the very end; only a week ago she had gone for a 5.5km walk with Monte and me. But on her last night with us she was struggling to breathe and she couldn’t walk and we had her put down. We couldn’t bare to see her suffer.

She will be missed. A lot. Never a more beautiful, friendly and polite dog have I met. She was the best fielder in family games of cricket. We loved watching her bark at and chase the swallows in the fields in the summers here in Tasmania. We loved watching her roll around in the paddocks. We loved having her sit by us all the time. We adored our many long walks with her walking loyally by our side.

We have been lucky to have d’Artagnan in our lives for so long. She lived a good, long and happy life and we like to think that her 6 years here in Tasmania were the best years a dog could ever wish for.

D’Artagnan is named after the fourth muskateer. Monte wanted to be able to say ‘come, d’Artagnan!’ And he did. Many times. Georgia used to call her dart-onion.