My mother-in-laws mum, or Grandmother-in-law, had a dog called Toto. He was a tiny, fluffy dog that was quite giddy. I think he was a Scottie. He was brown and black, fluffy, and he disliked my ankles. Whenever we went around to where he lived, he often attacked my ankles. That was all he could reach.

I first met him in 1995 when he would have been about 5 years old. Over the next 10 years, with every visit at Christmas time, we saw him get noticably older.

By age 15 (in human years) he was nowhere near as spritely as he used to be. He had had to have his teeth removed at some point over this time, so had to eat a special type of dog food from the vet. He looked very tired, he did smell slightly, but he was still a lovely dog.

Then one November evening, in front of my mother-in-law and her mum, he collapsed. It was his time. He was 15 years old, which is a great innings for a tiny dog. His time was quite rightly up, and he fell over and died.

At the time that it happened, there were only 2 people in the house. My Grandmother-in-law, and my mother-in-law. Toto belonged to my Grandmother-in-law and she was, quite obviously, very distressed. She'd been with the dog for every day of his life. She had bought him from the pet shop, fed him pretty much every meal he had ever eaten, taken him for walks, played in parks with him and made sure he had a warm, secure home for the past 15 years. She was devastated.

So what did my mother-in-law do when Toto collapsed?

MY first thought would be to cover him up. Get him a nice blanket, cover him up and let him rest. Maybe I'd call a vet for advice.

But my mother-in-law. What do you think SHE did?

Phone a vet? Dig a grave in the garden? Console her mum, whose dog had just passed away right in front of her eyes? Nooo, that would be stupid...

She dropped to all fours, and gave him the kiss of life. She brought a 15 year old dog back to life, by grabbing it's face and blowing up its nose.

Just take a minute to imagine that......

The day after this happened, my mother-in-law phoned my wife to tell her the news. The conversation went something like:

"I have something to tell you. Toto died last night."

My wife, who had known Toto all his life didn't initially know how to react. Luckily, my mother-in-law continued...

"...but it's ok, I gave him mouth to mouth! He's back again now."

Out of the many things that my mother-in-law COULD have said at that point, THAT was one line I don't think my wife she was prepared for.

On our next Christmas visit, just 1 month later, Toto was there as giddy as a kipper. He still looked very old but he was definately alive. Along with the missing teeth and familiar odour, he now had small patches of fur missing and smelly breath. But he was walking and, more importantly, breathing! And he still loved sucking my ankles.

I watched him during this visit. In total I watched him for about 2 hours. I could tell what he was thinking.... "I'm 15. My arthritis is really bad today, I can't eat real food because I have no teeth, I smell and I KNOW I smell, but at least I'm still alive! *sigh* "

Anyway, he lasted another 6 months. Then, inevitably, he died.

Again.

At this point he still had no teeth, bad breath and smelly fur, but now the patches of missing fur were much bigger. 6 months longer is more than anyone could have imagined. He'd already had a great innings for a small dog, so having the 6 month extension was a massive surprise.

But once again my mother-in law, the dog snogger, desperate not to let him pass peacefully away, and came to the rescue by combining her mouth, his nose and some regulated blowing. He began his third spell of life.

Over the next 6 months more fur started to fall out. It was as though his mind believed he was alive, but his body had already come to terms with death and had started to decay.

Christmas came and we visited again. Technically this was the second time we had visited him since he originally died, and for a dog that had died over a year ago he was surprisingly agile. He had bald patches, still had no teeth, had bad breath, bad arthritis, was wobbly on his paws and had deveolped a sensitivity to light.

It really was as though he was trying to decompose in peace, but was unable to. Every time he tried to lie down and die he'd have my mother-in-law on hand with a defibrillator.

His appetite for ankles had returned, and he was feistier than I'd ever seen him before. I let him have a few nibbles, just for old times sake. Usually I'd shoo him away after a few sucks, but my reasoning behind letting him carry on longer than usual was "You never know, come this time next year he could have died. Finally."

At the end of our visit we said our goodbyes, and got into the car. As the frosty Decemer air touched my socks, my ankles stung. I checked my ankles only to see that Toto, the toothless decomposing dog, had managed to draw blood.

This was the first and only time I have ever been bitten by something that had died and decomposed, but was walking around as though it was alive.

Or, a "zombie."