We always said Scamp was part cat. She had cat-like independence – she was not an overly affectionate dog. She rarely gave kisses. She was never 100% comfortable sitting on a lap – she’d hop down after a few minutes like an embarrassed teenager who's been hugged in front of their friends. She had (at least) nine lives – in fact the way she hung on to life at the end speaks volumes.
She's resting under the tree in the corner of the field where she used to sit waiting for Frank every morning.