Imagine taking a pet into a modern-day conflict

Fiona discovers a poignant place – a cemetery for soldiers’ dogs – and wonders whether the MacNaughties could grace a rampart

We have been unearthing old boxes this week – and reading letters written by the chief’s greatgrandfather. Sir Malcolm MacGregor lived in west Perthshire. But a naval career meant he spent long years away at sea.

In these missives, composed 150 years ago, the Rear Admiral is in the middle of the ocean.

This salty sea dog is missing his Highland hills and glens and taking a wee dram to remind himself of home.

He is also detailing the sort of ship’s biscuits his little dog likes to chew on.

Because, from the coast of Africa to Brazil, the man was accompanied by a small black and tan terrier. That’s what they did then. A faithful friend could be allowed to follow his master to the ends of the Earth.

I know dogs are trained to work in combat zones today. But imagine taking your pet into a modern conflict.

Looking into the matter, I stumble on a poignant place – a cemetery for soldiers’ dogs. Some 20 canine companions lie in a medieval tower at Edinburgh Castle.

High above the city is a resting place for regimental mascots and the pets of officers. Among those buried in the capital’s stronghold is a little white dog that “served” with the 72nd Highlanders.

Back in Victorian days, Pat took part in the Afghan campaign – marching with the troops from Kabul to Kandahar and no doubt keeping up spirits on the way.

Dobbler was a characterful bull terrier that accompanied the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders to far-flung places like China and South Africa.

Flora was a band dog. Winkle was the governor’s dog. Then there is Scamp and Tinkler – and the rest – all remembered in verse...

“Berkin dugs lie here at rest/The yappin worst, obedient best/Sodgers pets and mascots tae/Still the guard the castle to this day.”

I do not think the MacNaughties will ever sit in a hall of fame – or on a castle rampart.

The Norfolk terrier likes to think he is brave. And the wee chap has certainly taken on a few Alsatians in his time.

But he is not comfortable with noise. And, as the first shot rang out, Rummie would be gone. Off to a place of safety and creature comfort.

Then there is the spaniel. As a shooting dog, gunfire does not faze him. Especially now he is deaf.

From the coast of Africa to Brazil, he was accompanied by a wee black and tan terrier

But put him on water and he gets rather distressed. Indeed, the chief once took him on the ferry to the Shetland Isles. It was not a successful trip.

No, our two will never make the grand heights of Edinburgh Castle. Although they will probably be quite happy to rest among the bluebells in the garden.

Which is a horrible thought, them not being here.

So, we will try not to think it. And dwell instead on the remarkable bravery of man – and woman’s – best friend.