The pet I’ll never forget: Holly, the beagle who chewed her way through my home and into my heart

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

From the moment I laid eyes on her, it felt as if we were meant for each other. She quickly figured out that I was a softie, with an abundance of patience and access to her food.

Holly almost ate me out of house and home. She went at my little cottage in the west of Ireland one table leg at a time. Nothing was safe. Holly teethed on my car seats, cutting through the fabric to expose the foam beneath. Then she made a start on the steering wheel. She was eyeing up the gear stick before a friend made a steel rack to keep her safe in the hatchback trunk of my car.

‘She was a big beagle, which added to her charm.’ Photograph: Faith Hogan

The kitchen bin was emptied daily, the contents spread across the floor like a greeting I dreaded after work each day. Shoes and jeans were eaten from the radiators. I never managed to get on top of the garden. It’s not easy when you have a full-grown bloodhound hanging off the strimmer. And she was a big beagle, which added to her charm, but also made the trail of destruction in her wake even more devastating, thanks to her size and seemingly limitless energy.

She had a face to make you melt. Indeed, every person, cat, dog or hedgehog was an unquestioned friend as far as she was concerned. Just as well I hadn’t been hoping for a guard dog.

Beagles make great companions. They have the most easy-going, friendly nature. Holly never so much as snapped, even in old age when her joints must have been aching.

Holly and Faith at home in County Mayo. Photograph: Faith Hogan

In the end, I moved in with my husband, James, when we married. He lived on a road too busy with passing traffic for a heedless beagle, so my sister inherited Holly, then aged four. Leaving her behind was the biggest wrench. But Holly always remained my dog. I think she knew that when I visited my sister every week, I was there as much for her.

She passed away when she was 14. I was there by her side, rubbing her soft ears as she took her final breath.

Holly was so much more than just a pet. When she was mine, we did everything together, walked for miles, watched Friends – she was a comfort as well as a joy. She may have left me with a wonky-legged table, but I was so lucky to have those years with her.

Faith Hogan’s The Sisters of Hope Square is out now