Vale Chloe Roff

Chloe Roff passed away on Wednesday evening. She was the most beautiful animal friend a person could have. So much personality that she was more human than dog. She was a significant member of the Stuart Roff family and, surely, in the top three Roff dogs of all time. She loved chicken skin, tennis balls, bones, food in general and being towel dried, blow dried and brushed (she tolerated the bath for this treatment). The native birds had taken to using her fur for their nests. She loved puddles of dirty water and being the little spoon. She will be missed.

 

A Eulogy from Daniel Stuart Roff:

 

The first time we were introduced to Chloe (also known as Chow-Ping) was while we were living in that caravan in Redhead. Appropriate we were all at some stage of our lives actually living in a caravan park, particularly with the benefit of hindsight. 

 

Anyway, whilst in the trailer park of appropriateness, Windy, Milky and I tried to walk Chow-Ping to the service station, a grand total of 100 metres down the road, to buy some chicken strips. (I assume.) We were all lectured on the way there by some bloke who thought we were being cruel. I think I've subsequently represented his children. But he was a prophet; a man who could see what lay ahead when it came to Chloe-related exercise. 

 

Once Marianne had selected the next decrepit shell for us to live in after our five bed(room) caravan we embraced without question Meadow Road. 

 

Now I don't know whether or not it was an attempt at making Horatio and I bond with each other but the fact he and I lived together - amongst the cockroaches, rats and asbestos - meant we gave it a try. And that damn dog kept us awake the entire time. I have never slept so little but enjoyed so little sleep so much. Which just created a lifelong pattern. We all subsequently revolved our life around Chow-Ping meaning she led the sort of life that would be the envy of even the most spoiled progeny of the landed gentry. 

 

I remember having control of the Merewether RSL roster to such an extent that Fatso was never left by herself and, if she was about to be, she'd be subjected to a chase of the football for half-an-hour with any combination of our family (including visiting members) who might be available. The boys still talk about how good, but whinging, she was on the football field because we would take her to training. I think she learned that from Malky. The good defending part. Not the whinging. She got the whinging from me. 

 

And then she was just the centre-piece of everything thereafter, With good reason. 

 

Although it meant there was always a 10 minute welcome, 15 minute "this is the reason I come to this place" spiel and 25 minute hand-washing routine to make you appreciate how good-a-dog Chloe was. And God-damn, you loved it. 

 

And she loved us all. Terrified of Marianne (but well aware Marianne was the softest of us all and the most likely to give her treats). Enamoured of Stuart (knowing full well he was always up for wondering around and that, one day, she might get a cinnamon doughnut out of him...if she was lucky, very lucky). Enraptured of Harold (because he was always the one who would indicate she was about to take her for a run because he put a meat pie in the microwave and she could work out she'd be in the park in 15 minutes time. 10 minutes if he was hungry). Warmed by Malky (given there was nothing quite like laying in front of the fire with someone who would hug, squeeze and scratch you like you wanted whilst you were both on your side and not expending precious calories). And then given everything you needed or wanted by your kindred spirit, Alaine (because any person who can train you in the ways of dog, office dog and hipster dog is without a doubt your soul mate.)

 

Vale, Chow-Ping.