Why is the beer part of the Shed of Beer and Plastic known as Badger Jack’s? During the slightly restricted/eased parts of lockdown when pubs couldn’t open but small gatherings at home were allowed, my mates and I would meet in our sheds. We gave them all names, so that it felt like going to the pub. I settled on Badger Jack’s, Badger being the dearest chum I ever had, and he was a Jack Rusell.

Those of you who have followed me on social media will know that I go by the name of Badger, this was because originally the profiles were set up to reflect what I felt would be his take on life, and when he passed at the ripe age of 14, I couldn’t bear to stop, so they became my accounts.

A b it of history. Back in 2009 my housemate wanted a dog, I was sceptical, so laid down certain criteria. Had to be a small dog, preferably a rescue so that house training wouldn’t be necessary, and as the cottage was on the Thames and rats were a problem, it would ideally be a killer. A rescue centre was contacted, and 3 Jack Russells were identified. The moment I saw his picture I was smitten. A month of weekly bonding sessions were set up, and it was quite clear that he was a smart, adorable scamp. After an inspection of the cottage, and a view of the marshes that I lived by, he was allowed to be adopted. It was only then that I was given his file, and his back story was heart breaking. I was now providing his 5th home in his 7 years, he had been beaten so bad he had suffered a broken hip, diet so lacking he had to be treated for a skin condition, and because of this he had a short fuse. Never mind, my little chum, I will be forever.

I did learn very early on how short his fuse was, it was 0 to 60 in a nanosecond, and it bloody hurt. It never struck me that I should do anything other than learn to adapt to him rather than the other way round. Ironically he never did truly take to my housemate, he just became mine. It took about 6 months for him to fully appreciate he was loved, was safe and was secure. I remember the morning well. Usually he would be in his basket when I came downstairs, and wouldn’t do anything until he received a command. This particular morning though he was at the bottom of the stairs, tail wagging like crazy. Job done.

He earnt his bed and board, any rat foolish enough to come in from the shoreline was dealt a fatal blow, and next door’s cats soon learnt that using my garden was no longer permissible. We became inseparable, early morning walks on the marsh being a great joy, as this was when I could let him off the leash. I started to mentally compile a list of his dislikes, but to be honest it was a heck of a lot easier to remember his likes. His stick, turbulent water (waves, garden hose, a stream), and me. I’m not fully sure about me.

Time came to move up to Aberdeenshire, a long train journey, made difficult because I had no choice but to put a muzzle on him. He hated old men and children, and would attack on sight any other dog. I couldn’t take the chance. As it was he was perfectly behaved. The countryside really suited him, as did the cooler Scottish air. We had moved into a farm cottage, and he would sit for hours just watching the sheep and cattle. Once he howled in anguish as a very inquisitive coo had lent over the short fence to give him a lick.

Unfortunately after a year up in the Highlands, he was diagnosed with liver disease, and I was advised that he only had a few weeks. It was filled with adventures with my wife to be Shona, including a trip on the Whisky Line, where he sat at the conductors feet enrapt listening to every word of the history lesson. Of course being the scrapper that he was a few weeks became 16 months. He didn’t get to see the shed that would bear his name, but I know he would have loved it in there, charging the price of a doggie treat for entrance. His ashes are scattered alongside his favourite stream.

Badger and I were made for each other, I gave him a loving home and he kept me going through some very dark times. He has been gone 8 years now, his collar and dog tag hang in the shed that bears his name. His story has been used to help other dogs find their forever home, as the rescue centre have used our 7th anniversary photo in their publicity. You may notice I don’t throw clothes away.