My childhood dog was Cindy, a small, black mongrel with a distinctive white cross on her chest. She was my pet from what must have been 3 or 4 years old and I remember distinctly the moment my Dad brought her home. I played with her on the carpet, and I adored her. She was a very affectionate dog and knew when I was upset and nuzzled her nose under my arm when I was not happy and we cuddled for hours. Out of the back of Bobbers Mill Road there was an old allotments and quarry area, which no one went to, and it was quite extensive, and I took Cindy there every day when I could. She slept in my