Despite the calls for ‘naming and shaming’ the people who were largely responsible for Barton’s death, we have decided to move on.  (We’re not bitter but they still haven’t been in touch since we saw them driving out of the drive in their 4×4 and large Estate car, just as vineyard manager Daniel and I were lugging the pick-axe and shovels from where we’d dug Barton’s little grave within hours of the attack.) Months later, we felt the only sensible approach was to advise their local RSPCA officer, but that’s it.  

Now for the good news. I emailed Esme Johnstone, former owner of Chateau de Sours nearby, from whom we had got Barton in the first place, to let him know the sad news.  (Ironically, Esme and Sarah have moved back to England to within just a few miles of the Rutland couple who had brought the killer dog with them.)  

Esme kindly put me in touch with the original breeder in Ireland, who had no puppies available from a recent litter.  Then we heard that there had been a ‘cancelled order’ for a little bitch – a first cousin of Barton’s, several times removed. And, after weeks of planning with Penelope near Dublin, wincing at the fares of Air France via Paris, and then stumbling across Colin from pet-couriers.com, here she is.  

      Barton and Palmer                                                   Palmer and Margaux

(Colin provided a great service and was far better value than Air France.)  We’ve called her Margaux (sorry, couldn’t resist it) and she is already ruling the roost, chasing the cat and charming all the family – and a fairly steady stream of visitors to boot. Meanwhile Palmer, our black labrador, can’t quite figure it out but is very pleased to have a new friend.

For the first time ever, a family brought a dog with them to stay in the farmhouse and we had made it clear that we had two (harmless) dogs. Their dog, an obese dalmatian which had apparently come from a refuge, attacked and mortally wounded Barton as soon as they let it out of the house by mistake. He died in Angela’s arms as we drove him to the vet.

It still seems incredible to us that a dog lover could bring a dog, knowing it was a danger to other dogs, all the way from Rutland to Bordeaux by car, only for it to savage their hosts’ much-loved pet. They had barely unpacked before they left, mortified, just as we were burying the little chap. Added to which, we haven’t heard a word from them since. No flowers, no note, no email.

Barton, so named because his sister had gone to live with the Bartons of Château Léoville-Barton, never said boo to a goose and was an institution at Bauduc. He will leave a big void for such a small fellow, and will be missed not only by us but also by so many visitors – especially those he welcomed to the farmhouse. Looking through the visitors’ book, there are more comments thanking Barty for his good humour and hospitalty than anyone else.