Farewell, Boris, the scourge of tennis ball throwers on any beach. He had a big name for a little dog with a huge personality.
WORDS Brian Tora
Our beloved Jack Russell, the inspiration for the Barking Mad articles that graced the columns of this august publication, giving a terrier’s eye view of life in the Algarve, succumbed to prostate cancer just two weeks before his 14th birthday – not a great age for a terrier. His passing has left a huge hole in our lives. Walks along the promenade will never feel the same again.
Born in Suffolk, Boris was one of the first of a litter of five males and grew to be bigger than his siblings and larger than his parents – Beryl and Monty – combined. Beryl’s owner, a long-standing friend, had offered us the first choice of the litter. We were in Luz when Boris was born but hurried back to England to make our selection. We were so fortunate in selecting a loving, calm (for a Jack Russell) and obedient (mostly) dog that proved to be a true companion.
Boris took to Algarvean life immediately. In no time at all, he became a familiar figure around the village. Everyone, it seemed, knew Boris – by name. He would be greeted wherever he went and we often wondered if those acknowledging him knew quite who we were. But he became a source of introduction to so many people and helped us build long-lasting friendships with so many fellow dog walkers and even those who were without pets.
He was a regular attendee at church in Luz – and in Suffolk, for that matter, if we were back in England. His behaviour during a service was impeccable. I would like to think he is even now racing across some celestial beach, catching balls and burying them at his whim. The bars of Luz will miss him, I am sure. But at least we have our memories of this lovable dog and we will be raising a glass or two to an exceptional canine friend.
