I first noticed the dog on a cold, rainy February day. He was chained near a gate, far from the farmhouse. His job seemed to be to guard the entrance to a broken-down greenhouse and some rusting farm machinery. He had a dog house which was too small for him and was used to keep his food dry. Other than that he had no shelter, not even a bush. He was curled up in a tight ball on top of a mound of sodden sawdust with rain pelting down on him.

I saw him a couple more times, always in the same state. At these time I was a passenger in someone else's car, so was unable to stop, but I vowed to return in my own vehicle. First I visited him with treats to look over the situation and gauge how easy or difficult the rescue would be. The road was a busy one - bad news, but the dog was friendly - good news.

On my third visit, I brought a blanket and tools along as well as his treats, in case a rescue was possible. While feeding him his treats, I decided to ignore the passing traffic and just take him. It was easy; no tools were needed. Just a quick snap of his chain fastener and we headed for my car, the dog nearly breaking my wrist in his eagerness to get in my car and be away.

So Theo, a cross between a shepherd and an Airedale, came into our home and our lives. Upon inspection, I found that Theo had been bound tightly a number of times around his chest with rope which was then tied to his collar. I surmised that he had managed to get loose in the past and the rope was to prevent another escape.

After a bath and a trip to the vet for shots, deworming, teeth-cleaning and neutering, Theo settled in to live with us. He was too dignified to be called Teddy, so he was given the name of Theodore, Theo, for short. Theo was already a senior dog, grey about the muzzle and arthritic in the back legs. But he loved his daily walks. He galloped along ahead of us with his stiff-legged gait, delighting in being able to move about freely, to sniff and to explore. He also enjoyed his warm, dry bed with its foam mattress for his arthritic joints. Our little terrier insisted that she remain top dog, but Theo did not seem to mind as long as he was included as a valued member of the family, which he was.

Theo lived two and a half years with us before he died from the ravages of old age and, no doubt, from the deprivation of his time spent on a chain.

Two images of Theo haunt me to this day. The one, of course, is that first image of him huddled on the sodden sawdust struggling to keep warm as the February rain pelted down upon him. The other is more subtle, but still troubling. When we first took Theo for walks along the river banks, he would often spot a jogger on the other side of the river and he would race ahead of us, barking and barking at the running figure, calling out to him. This happened time and again for months and then it stopped. I cannot help but think that Theo was looking for a previous "owner" who had taken him for runs along the river banks. I wondered how such a person could then have abandoned him to spend his days in misery on the end of chain.