A well researched and endearing non-fiction account of an amazing Airedale who captured public imagination throughout New Zealand during the Great Depression, and who is today honoured in Wellington by a statue celebrating his status as a much-loved local legend. Like Scotland's Greyfriar's Bobby, Paddy mourned the loss of his human, in his case a little mistress who died of pneumonia, but instead of haunting a graveyard, Paddy headed for the waterfront. There he became a favourite of the watersiders and seamen, not to mention the taxi and bus drivers of the Central City, who fed and protected him from dog rangers. He certainly got around - taken on board ship and crossing the Tasman, travelling around coastal ports and even flying in a Gypsy Moth - not to mention the dastardly attempt to move him to Auckland by jealous Aucklanders. He was also rumoured to have made it to San Francisco and back. Formally adopted by the Harbour Board, his official title was Assistant Night Watchman responsible for Pirates, Smugglers and Rodents. On his death his funeral procession brought Wellington to a standstill. Not bad for a stray dog.