Those of you who’ve been following along for a while will know that for many years we had a lovely black Labrador named Lottie. Sadly she’s no longer with us, but now that our sons have grown up, they’ve both followed in the family tradition by getting Labradors of their own.
Our eldest son’s Labrador, Maggie, came to stay with us recently for a little holiday. She’s only one year old, so although she’s a sizeable dog, she’s still very much a puppy and absolutely full of boundless energy. Maggie is lucky enough to live near a large park, but she’s a city dweller at heart, so coming out to stay with us for a few days opened up a whole host of new horizons and a vast assortment of enticing scents.
You can see from the photos that she had a whale of a time running around in the nearby field. We’re lucky in that a public footpath runs through the field and the path isn’t fenced off, so the owners don’t seem to mind people and dogs having the run of it, as long as everyone cleans up after themselves, which of course we did.
When you’ve had an older dog who’s grown very calm, relaxed and, dare I say it, a little set in her ways, it comes as something of a shock to have a young and more enthusiastic dog around the place, especially when you consider that she’s been dropped into an unfamiliar house and garden with unfamiliar routines. Maggie is a lovely dog, but I’d forgotten just how much time and energy and patience it takes to look after a dog at that free-spirit stage of their lives.
In many ways it was a genuine delight to have a dog in the house again, but there were times when it was a little tricky, especially now that Mrs C and I are perhaps the ones who’ve become a little set in our ways.
But if we found Maggie’s restless energy a bit tiring, I’m sure she thought that some of our behaviour was utterly bewildering. Why did we want to sit down when there was fun to be had? Why couldn’t we see the exciting possibilities presented by a chunk of rotting wood? And what was the point in going inside when the night was still young and there were strange hoots and cries to listen to?
In particular, it seemed that my habit of singing to myself as I wandered from room to room going about my daily chores was a source of concern for her. I’m not entirely sure how long I’ve been doing this, but most of the time there’s no one here to mind, and Mrs C has no doubt long since grown used to my noisy behaviour.
I have an excellent memory for lyrics, but I’ve never been blessed with the ability to sing in tune. Apparently, the actor Pierce Brosnan received a review after his appearance in the musical Mama Mia! that said, “Pierce Brosnan couldn’t hold a note if it had a picture of the Queen’s head on it.”
I can sympathise.
For Maggie, my vocal offerings were clearly a cause for alarm. She didn’t seem to know whether I was in distress or simply unhinged, and there was a definite look of dismay on her face whenever she heard me. And being a dog, of course, she could hear me wherever I happened to be.
When Maggie had gone and it was just Mrs C and me again, the house seemed very quiet (apart from the singing), and we quite missed her. There’s something very lovely about a friendly dog greeting you with wild excitement even when you’ve only been out of the room for ten minutes. She treated us like long lost relatives every single time.
Maggie’s visit rekindled our dreams about the possibility of having a dog again one day. Perhaps those dreams never went away.
We certainly take notice whenever we’re out on a walk and we pass a lovely dog. We often ask the owner if we can stop and say hello to his or her four-footed companion. It’s a kind of vicarious dog ownership, really. We get to stroke the dog and make a fuss of it, then we walk away, leaving the owner to deal with the muddy paws and the poop bags.
We are definitely dog people, but there’s something to be said for a quieter life with fewer responsibilities. And of course it means I’m free to carry on with my singing.
I suppose most people would consider that a dubious advantage at best, so if Mrs C turns up one day in possession of a new puppy, we’ll perhaps be able to guess the reason why.
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