She and her sisters were rolling around together, then Shanti trotted over to my son Josh, climbed on his lap and peed on him. Josh, then, was very put out. We sponged his trousers and the breeder dried him off with a hairdryer. One puppy ran into the crate and cowered. Her sister froze. Shanti ignored it. ‘This is the puppy for you,’ said her breeder. ‘She’s calm and will do well in a house with children.’ Pauline was right. Shanti is only frightened of other dogs. Not fireworks, not hoovers, not loud bangs. We got Shanti the first term Josh entered secondary school, thirteen years ago. I fell in love with the breed, which is an ancient one, leafing through a dog encyclopaedia. I’d never seen a Tibbie before, as they are rare in the UK. Shanti has this solemn, furrowed, almost quizzical face, and I loved her lion-like golden mane, and the fact that even today, as an elderly pooch, she still looks a lot like a puppy. Shanti is well-known in our north London neighbourhood, as she likes sitting in the front window on top of the sofa, and watching people pass by.
