My Dad was offered a job un the US when I was 4 and my brother was 5. We had a dearly loved ****er spaniel named Mungo who was really old and obviously couldn't come with us.
One day before we left for the US Dad told us we had to say goodbye to Mungo because he was going to live on a farm where there were HUUUUUGE paddocks for him to run around in and lots of magpies for him to chase. He was going to have a FANTASTIC time!!
My parents still maintain to this day (I'm 23 and my brother is 24) that Mungo went to a picturesque farm
Poor Mungo
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