Holly, the beagle who chewed her way into my heart

Holly, my hyperactive mad hatter of a beagle, was a gift from my well-meaning sister. Born into a beagle pack kennelled in a dog food factory in the Irish town of Edgeworthstown in County Longford, she bounded into my life one sunny evening as a dribbling, velvet-eared bundle of puppy energy.

She almost ate me out of house and home, gnawing my little cottage one table leg at a time. Nothing was safe: she teethed on my car seats, cutting through the fabric to expose the foam, and began on the steering wheel until a friend made a steel rack to keep her safe in the hatchback trunk.

The kitchen bin was emptied daily and spread across the floor; shoes and jeans were eaten from the radiators, and the garden was a struggle when you have a full-grown bloodhound hanging off the strimmer. She was a big beagle, which added to her charm but made the trail of destruction even more devastating.

Ireland, Edgeworthstown, County Longford

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