Dog Blog

Very early in my dog-owing life I realised that going out in pouring rain at the dog's accustomed walk time was part of the deal.  Sometimes this involved rather long walks as Laddie seemed to love playing in the rain, which is odd because he doesn't like getting his feet wet. But these days the Old Boy isn't up to a long walk any more. All he wants from a walk is to socialise - with other dogs certainly, but also with his human friends. His arthritis varies with the weather - cold and dry is best for him - so how far he can go and how much he can do is also very variable.  He has developed a technique which involves finding a good spot and lying down there to get the weight off his feet and waiting for his mates to go past. On warm summer days this is fine for me - I take a book, some coffee, and enjoy the rest and chatting to the other dog owners. Cold winter mornings before dawn are a different proposition.  I have a different priority: Laddie's bodily functions have to be attended to (absolutely an incidental for him) so I can go back to the warm indoors.

This going home business has developed into another barometer of how Laddie is feeling.  When we were first walking together he had endless ways to prevaricate and avoid getting into the car.  Now, if he's having a bad day, I only have to open the tailgate and he gets up, comes over, and climbs in.  There are stages in between.

Laddie and his pal Finley

Today it was chucking it down, rain bordering on sleet, really nasty.  Laddie was as keen to go out as always, but I didn't fancy the nature reserve we normally go to and socialise, so we went to a local park.  My priority is simple: Laddie's natural functions and home.  His priority was the same as always, socialise.  So when we got there I headed for the trees for Laddie's convenience, Laddie stood sniffing the air, from which he can tell which dogs are in the park and in what direction and probably a whole lot more.  The result of his nasal survey was negative - no-one he knew, no dogs.  So he lay down on the sopping wet grass to wait.

My only option is encouragement, with biscuits, to wander a few steps and give peristalsis a chance to work.  He saw no reason to accommodate me.  After about 10 minutes of this I was wet, wet, wet, and he simply didn't care. Then suddenly someone we knew came into the park - someone walking an interestingly mis-matched pair of dogs, a Dachshund that barks a lot and a very friendly German Shepherd bitch. She's a nice dog, and rather focused on her ball.

As soon as he saw her Laddie leaped to his feet, drew himself up to his full height (he's big for a Rough Collie) and sauntered over.  She saw him, sniffed him quickly, and went off after her ball.  By now Laddie's coat was waterlogged, but that didn't matter, he walked briskly after her.  But she's young and ball-centred and was soon way off.  A year or more ago he would have chased her, but he knows he can't do that now. But he also knows that dog walks are mainly circular, and having gone, she would return, so he lay down again and settled in to wait.  It was still pouring down, and my priority was now to go home as soon as I could get Laddie back into the car.

I got out my box of biscuits, and tried to lure him back.  No contest.  His options are go get a biscuit or wait and socialise with a nice female. Well, what red-blooded male would choose the biscuit?  In that circumstance he did what he always does: he puts his ears down against his head, looks steadfastly away from me, and simply ignores me. Water was running off my glasses and down my nose. After trying to exert my authority as Pack Leader without success I resorted to my authority as Human Being.  This involves standing in front of him and taking his lead out of my pocket.  It worked; he hauled himself to his feet and began to slowly plod back to the car, finding countless reasons to stop and sniff on the way, his reluctance obvious to anyone.

A winter sunrise lights up Laddie

Back at the car he put his feet in his sitting area and waited to be lifted in.  Then he gave me that look that accuses me of mean selfishness and cruelty when he was in with a chance.  I gave him 3 biscuits and he forgave me, so we came home.

Some days recently he has been so poorly with his arthritis I have wondered whether it was right to extend his life.  But those days are not too frequent, and on days like this when the Old Boy exhibits such character and is so full of himself and what he wants to do (especially in the case of bitches in season) and is so evidently enjoying himself, my worries are dispelled.

Whose got control of the remote control?

When we got home and he'd been dried and fed he was alternately affectionate and frisky and a transparently happy dog. It has been such a pleasure and privilege to share our home with him. Long may it continue to be so.