Tuesday 29th January 1808

Dear Diary,
Tragedy! We took Malcolm out on a shoot today as he is fond of manly pursuits. We returned for lunch at the Grange and then ventured back out in the afternoon and Father insisted, this time, on forcing his reluctant Willie out too. We were stalking through a hawthorn thicket down by the pond, when Malcolm cocked his weapon, aimed at an unsuspecting mallard, and pulled the trigger. Willie whimpered and turned to flee and then let out the most horrendous howl. In it's panic it had turned and a thorn had pierced it's left eye. I am quite queasy at the telling of it now. The shoot was abandoned and Father carried the poor beast home. Doctor Proctor was hurriedly summoned to see what could be done. He said that the removal of the damaged eye would only cause unnecessary suffering and that he felt it was kindest to put the poor beast out of it's misery. That could have been the sad end of Father's Willie but it owes it's life to Mrs Crutchlow. She suggested plying it with wine until it was in a drunken stupor and then removing the eye, and I am happy to say it was duly done. How we paced about the sitting room while the task was carried out and only afterwards did we realise that we had completely forgotten about dinner. I came to bed and left Father crouched by the warmth of the fire in the sitting room stroking his poor one eyed Willie as it lay limply in his lap.