My dearest, daftest dog. Words cannot begin to describe what a huge role she plays in my life. Words also fail to capture her very Essence Of Being. And her internal logic (or lack thereof).
Was the canal wet, dear? (12 November 2011)
My landlords have got a dozen or so rams here for the winter and recently let them into the orchard to clear up the last of the apples and tackle the acres and acres of grass that, like much of Nature down here in the south west, has failed to get the message that’s it’s WINTER. (Seriously, daffodils are starting to creep up out of the earth and some trees are budding!)
Anyway, since the rams are (a) on my doorstep and (b) a friendly bunch, I thought I’d make the most of it and give Her Dogginess a reminder that sheep are to be Left Alone, lest she find herself at the wrong end of a farmer’s gun. So out into the orchard we went and she cowered, cringed and hid in the hedge. Nothing to do with the sheep. To stop the boys raiding the pheasant feeders, my landlord put up some electric fencing and Snipe took one look at the familiar white tape and ran for her life – and never mind that it’s not switched on.
I dragged her out of the hedge and, giving the evil fence a wide berth, went in search of the rams. The bravest two came up to see if I had any apples (lazy buggers) and the biggest of the pair objected to the dog’s presence. He stiffened his shoulders, flared his nostrils and stamped his front foot. Snipe’s eyes opened. He repeated the snorting/stamping routine and she hid behind my legs. Once more and she fled. He and I exchanged pleasantries, with him whiffling at my fingers while my other hand gave him a good old head scratch. Snipe tried to return but he stamped his foot again and that was that. Lesson learned.
Much to her relief, I whistled for her and walked off, and she bounced after me – and then past me. Overcome with joy at her narrow escape, she ran in circles and would have done cartwheels if she knew how. But then it all went wrong.
So delirious was she with aforementioned relief and joy that when she spotted a lone ram, sneakily finishing off a windfall apple that the others had missed, she couldn’t contain herself and the need to celebrate … and ran up to the ram, dancing in front of him, begging him to play and, when he stared in astonishment, too startled to stamp his foot, let alone run for the hills, she licked his nose!
Back to the drawing board…
That’s why we love our animals…. Last year our cats welcomed the young bullocks into the field at the bottom of our garden and often wandered in ad out of the small herd. This year, the young bullocks are the most terrifying dinosaurs that ever walked the planet and the cats freak every time they hear or see one…
Well, you will own a Labrador! Daft buggers!!
I got my previous lab when she was a one year old tear-away having spent 8 of her 12 months of life is a dog refuge. One day several months later when I had summed up the courage to walk her off the lead she saw a field of sheep and was off. To play or to kill I don’t know but in her excitement she had not accounted for the strange orange netty thing between her and her intended playmates/prey. The ensuing howls clearly indicated in her mind that the sheep with whom she was so intent on playing with/eating possessed supernatural pain-inducing powers and were in no way to be approached under any circumstances. That is how things stayed until the day she died: walking through a field of sheep was the only time I could trust her to walk to heel without a lead in sight or word said!
That is ace! Dogs are ace!