We'd been living in the tiny village of Fígols in the Catalan Pyrenees for four years when we decided that 'the good life' wasn't making ends meet, either financially or fulfilment wise. We finally came down to live and work on the sunny Spanish coast, not on the 'costas' but in the historic city of Tarragona where we quickly settled in to life in our scruffy flat within the ancient Roman walls with Riff-raff, our one remaining ex-pat cat, and our dog Lucky, a gift from some of our best friends and neighbours in the village, Carmen and Juan Miguel. At only two years old Lucks, a lupine husky/German shepherd cross (whose two blue eyes are to die for, quite a show stopper in a country where half the population is obsessed with being blonde!) was still a handful, she was after all used to miles of countryside where we walked her daily, free to chase rabbits, wild boar or anything else that took her fancy.

Lucky in her natural surroundings.

Shortly after we arrived in Tarragona some children delivered a lost and confused husky to us thinking it was ours. It wasn't of course but by the time we could deliver him to the dog warden we'd had him for the weekend and got thoroughly bonded. We followed his progress to the local dog rescue association and decided to adopt him if we could. Sadly for us the owners returned from holiday and claimed him just before his 'quarantine' was up when he would have been available for adoption, literally minutes before we arrived to collect him as arranged with the warden. Naturally we were crestfallen and didn't feel up to attempting another adoption just then. To be honest we weren't sure whether we were in fact grieving over poor Riff-Raff, who had had to be put down shortly beforehand. Neither were we sure we would have the time to offer as I was working and the flat was in a worse state than it's in now (if that's possible!).

Meanwhile tragedy struck the dogs' home. Someone, who turned out to be mentally ill and acting under a delusion, broke into the kennels and mutilated fifteen dogs. The details were extremely grisly and provoked a national outcry, even an international one as will be seen. Our next meeting with the warden was at a very sombre occasion when all the dog owners and half the population of Tarragona, or so it seemed, took to the streets and held a ceremony in the city's main park, complete with a minute's silence. It was very moving, especially as even all the dogs present, over a hundred at least, seemed to know what was afoot and kept mum too - imagine it! Everyone noticed a few coaches with German registration parked nearby but what we didn't know at the time was that the story had attracted the attention of a German dog rescue group which promptly adopted hundreds of hounds and stumped up such a big lot of funding for new, and highly secure, kennels - the old ones were pretty awful due to lack of funds - that the various government departments had to take their responsibilities seriously and cough up money too. Not only that but the people demanded and got a change in the law, in Catalonia at least, so that cruelty to animals is now a criminal offence whereas before it was considered equal to merely damaging someone's property - leaving it up to the owners to make a case. Now this law has been used to prosecute all sorts of animal abuse, especially at some of the village fiestas which give Spain its somewhat undeserved reputation on animal rights issues.

So out of bad came a lot of good. Meanwhile our lives were taking their roller coaster ride: you could say that the year 2002 was a flop, I went down with a cancer, had some very serious surgery (full marks to the Spanish health service, I feel sure that in the Uk I'd be six foot under by now - I should know I used to work in the health sector there!). Not only that my company went belly-up big time, taking my job with it. Having just bought a flat it was pretty much the most difficult time for the most difficult stresses to happen as you may imagine! Moreover the surgery and subsequent treatment has left be pretty much washed up on the career front. There were times when we both relied on Lucky's eternal cheerfulness to get by and caring for her sometimes helped us care for ourselves too.

Now all that's water under the bridge, we've had a few new beginning amongst the false starts and life is as settled as it ever can be, getting by by writing, translating and letting out our lovely house during the summer months. Meanwhile, we had always been aware that Lucky would be happier with some company - she still looks for black cats to cuddle! - but until now didn't feel that we could take on another dog. Now that the business of letting the house is up and running and I am well recovered health-wise the idea of some more company came back. So off to the new 'Protectora' we went one sunny Monday in May 2004. We had in mind a fairly small dog, hopefully a with calming effect of the ever bouncy Lucks - if anything she's getting more puppyish with middle age! When we eventually found the kennels we were amazed by the change and very impressed with the subtle but high security! The warden remembered us from the previous occasion and showed us to the male wing, we'd already decided on a 'macho' for various reasons, including Lucky's weak point in her character, rabid jealousy of other bitches! Visiting a rescue to select just one animal is always a heartrending experience - that's how we came to found a dynasty of black cats! - so we knew we had to be in and out of the kennel with a decision before we'd want to take them all home. We just couldn't believe it when we saw a beautiful male husky with almost exactly the same body colouring as Lucky. In fact we kept going away and trying to find reasons not to adopt him, 'Is he too old?' they knew his date of birth (he's four), 'Is he too fat?' A few days with Lucky sorted that out! 'Is he going to be too much to handle?' Male huskies are incredibly strong and can have behaviour problems, they're a bit like gorillas really, always approach one with care and due respect! No he hadn't been a stray and he was put up for adoption due to his owner's divorce rather than any fault on his part. True he did look listless and depressed, but this turned out to be transitory - he's a genuine canine cannonball! We took him on 'trial' which included a health check with our vet. 'You've got yourselves a brilliant dog, one of the best huskies I know.' was the expert opinion!

A brilliant dog!

Meanwhile he and Lucks took to each other instantly and within forty-eight hours had formed a genuine 'wolf pack' behaving more like one animal than two individuals, rather like a swarm of bees or shoal of fish! It's quite a sight to see. And it impresses, not to say overawes, the numerous little dogs who used to pester poor Lucky to death in Tarragona. Imagine coming face-to-face with those four penetrating eyes as the two dogs close ranks to form a defensive wall in front of ourselves. they also make quite a sight just walking in formation, we're used to Lucky's jaw dropping effect on people. Now it's all starting again as dozens of 'Tarragonins' who are accustomed to Lucky stop in their tracks at the spectacle. We've had a few 'interesting' experiences with him in the mountains however. We've come to believe that for his first four years he didn't leave his flat apart from visits for his 'cosas' let alone go romping in the country. He quickly let Lucky take the lead - until he lost a few pounds and gained his mountain legs he just had to - and follows her example as she seeks all her favourite haunts: the 'corral' where the local shepherdess keeps a 'tame' wild boar, the rabbit warren (caught one once, still didn't know what to do with it!), the swampy ground which we call 'the play plat' where Lucky now has a new 'prey' for the Elk Game, etc. Always bowing to Lucky's greater experience except in the matter of storming straight through bramble bushes instead of wisely skirting round them! He'll get there in time I suppose. Meanwhile each weekend when the house is let we escape the rather torrid heat of Tarragona on the Mediterranean coast and go camping in the high Pyrenees where we all swim in the still icy mountain rivers and lakes, barbecue the best lamb and chicken in the world and above all socialise, socialise, socialise to make up time lost getting the experience of life with humans.

First swimming lesson.	Losing a few pounds.

Which brings us neatly to the bit I've been keeping up my sleeve -' What's his bloomin' name?' I hear you cry! Well, as I described earlier he's got similar markings to Lucky, however he's a real 100% pure husky, unlike Lucks, so he's got the mandatory odd eyes, one blue one brown, and a completely white face mask and the correct little ears - very unlike 'Jugears' Lucky. From there on they are very similar right down to the tip of the tail. However whereas Lucky has got a 'designer label' a little tuft of white fur on the back of her neck, which is characteristic, the new dog has a white stripe or streak. So there we are, 'Streak' it is. It also describes his movement, he can be pretty nimble even as a butter ball. What occurs when you put the names together genuinely didn't occur to us until much later, honestly!!!

At home on the range.