This was written as a children's picture book and is all 100% true...

The Westie of Goodwood Hill

In Singapore, in a very large white house, with black trim, lived a wee little dog, also white and also with black trim.

His given name was Angus, but his true name was Gus because that’s what everyone called him. He had a soft, white coat of thick fur and coal black eyes and a coal black nose. And he was, adorable.

But Gus was so much more than cute.

Though the Big Dog went for walks everyday, beyond the garden and past the gate, Gus stayed home. No amount of persuasion could get him to go along. He had to keep a watchful eye on things and to keep his family safe. This was a serious job, and he took this duty very seriously.

Because in the house were three children who depended on him, a helper with a kind voice that relied on his steadfast service, and the parents, who needed him most of all.

There was no end to the mischief that kicked up a fuss at Goodwood Hill. At times the mother would sigh and say, “only goodness knows how goodness grows on Goodwood Hill!’

When the boy, no more than 8 or 9, locked his bedroom door and went out the window onto the roof for an adventure with his friends, it was Gus that let the grown-ups know something was very wrong.

One morning, in the semi-gloom just before the sun was fully up, a menacing super-swarm of bees circled the house. The children were about to leave the house to wait for the school bus, but Gus barked and alerted them to the danger.

Gus once battled a gigantic monitor lizard that wandered into their garden one day. Though it was five times his size with long, sharp claws and snapping teeth to match, he chased it off. Brave and stalwart, he did not give up until the lizard had fled and his family was safe.

Every other house on Goodwood Hill had unwelcome visits by dangerous, threatening snakes — but not Gus’s house. Gus’s family never came home to find a cobra curled up under the dining room table or a nest of baby pythons in their closet.

Then one day, walking up after the long drive with the Big Dog, home from their morning walk, there came a big surprise. On the front porch, waiting where Gus usually sat, was a different dog. Small and sturdy like Gus, but not white like Gus. This dog was muddy brown and smelled terrible, like the worst part of the zoo.

But he greeted them just like Gus would, with merry eyes and a wagging tail. Because…

…this was Gus!

Just minutes before he had scared off a wild monkey, prickly and ill-tempered, who had crept into the kitchen to steal the ripe mangoes off the counter. Tenacious little Gus had pursued the monkey all the way across the big garden, like he had done a dozen times before. But this monkey was mean, and turned to attack, baring its sharp, pointed teeth. But quick thinking Gus knew what to do, even though it would mean that most dreaded thing.

He rolled in monkey dung and camouflaged himself from the monkey’s vicious attack. He waited there patiently, until the confused monkey got bored, and went up and over the fence and disappeared into the dense jungle.

Now he sat patiently in the bath, while mother clucked over him and scrubbed away and sighed under her breath ‘only goodness knows how goodness grows on Goodwood Hill.”

Now 10 years on, he sits and he waits in a different county, in front of a different house, that is also white with black trim.

Gus looks a lot like he did so long ago, the ever-lasting puppy, also still white with black trim. But many things have changed. The house he protects now is surrounded by forest and meadow, not jungle. And the children have left for college, one by one. His family is grown now, and just the parents are home.

But he waits outside, same as always because there is a new Big Dog that has gone for a walk, beyond the garden and past the gate. And though it is cold and windy and his eyes are cloudy and his hearing muffled, he waits. He waits because though old, he has a serious job to do, and he takes it very seriously.