Devised, written and drawn by brilliant New Zealand cartoonist Murray Ball, Footrot Flats was all about life in rural NZ, as told through the eyes of a likeable sheep dog, “Dog”.

There was a large supporting cast but one of the most intimidating was “Horse”, a large, fearsome cat that ruled everyone and everything around him.

But eventually the real life Horse’s time came and he found new frontiers in feline heaven.

Ball wrote a moving piece, in a forward to one of his books, announcing Horse’s passing.

I remember crying my eyes out.

But eventually the time came this week when The Lioness and I were left with the same hearbreaking decision to put our hound, Barbara Anne, to sleep and move her on to the next stage of her existence.

It was gut-wrenching holding her while our mate Arthur did the deed, before another mate Justin then took over the cremation logistics; we will be forever grateful to them for their support. The decision was made all the more traumatic by the fact her real owner, The Princess Legend, was overseas and unable to be there while her dog passed from this earth.

Over the 17 years, seven months and six days we had her, Barb had a profound influence on our family.

We would still be renting, rather than owning, a home after our previous landlords told us we could not have a dog on the premises; which was a bit inconvenient considering we had already brought her home.

And The Princess Legend – who had previously been afraid of her own shadow – and The D-Mac would not be the self-confident, personable young people they are without her influence.

And much more. But enough of the maudlin stuff.

What is it about dogs that they are able to ingrain themselves so much into our affections?

My late mate Tim Grills once told me you could not give a child a better upbringing than to give him or her the responsibility of looking after another living creature.

And there is so much more. Dogs teach us lessons in life.

I look back and wish I had have done more for Barb.

But now I realise you can’t look back with regret, only learn the lesson and go forward with more wisdom.

Her needs were simple: an occasional walk on the leash, plenty of tucker and a pat on the head when you came home from work.

How different is our own material world and the emphasis we put on it.

We would often go out, be late getting home and she would get fed way past her normal feeding time.

But she was always pleased to see us anyway and showed it with a lot of affection.

How many of us can say we have more than a handful of friends who would show the same enthusiasm to see you.

Although I would have to say The Lioness and I were knocked out by the number of responses to our Facebook posts, videos and pictures.

And Barb showed me it was stupid to waste time being negative and holding grudges.

So farewell good and faithful hound – our lives were made all the richer by having you in them. RIP little mate.