"My Grandparens’ house stood at the bottom of a long, winding gravel drive—on which, some years later, I learned to ride a bicycle—with glorious views in every direction across the game reserve that surrounded it. It was a single –story house with a veranda that ran almost all the way around it. My grandparents had brought paintings, china, and cutlery from the house in Scotland but they had all of the furniture made in Nairobi of mooli, the most beautiful honey-colored local wood. There was a huge garden, with lawns, standard roses, peach trees, and nasturtiums, that ran straight in the wilderness, It was quite common for giraffes, lions, or other wild animals to wander in and, because of the bushes, it wasn’t always easy to see them. The dogs, though, would bark incessantly until the interlopers left.
One night my grandfather was sleeping in a small bedroom leading onto the veranda. It was a hot, still night, the door ajar, and in slunk a leopard, which leaped onto sleeping grandpa. He woke immediately, but as he reached for the pistol under his pillow the big cat jumped onto the floor. It had smelled dog, and took the Alsatian, which was asleep under the bed. Grandpa shot wildly as the protesting dog was dragged out onto the veranda. Next morning there was no sign of either animal. My Grandfather was distressed at having lost his favorite Alsatian, but it could so easily have been him."
- Pattie Boyd recalling her childhood in Kenya, excerpt from:
Boyd, Pattie, and Penny Junor. Wonderful Tonight: George Harrison, Eric Clapton, and Me. New York: Three Rivers Press, 2007. Pg.8
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