DOG LIFE

I’m not a doggy person but I’m worried I maybe turning into one. Our best friends’ golden retriever got out and mated with two dogs: a grey whippet and a black lab. All fingers were crossed as the retriever was giving birth. We wouldn’t have had a whip-triever (can you imagine?) but we did go for the re-lab. That was 8 months ago and our life has changed.

She’s turning out to be a bit mad. For instance, she goes wild at the vet’s. My husband Pete took her last time and I forgot to forewarn him. When he got back he had to lie down. I asked him how it went, ‘Embarrassing’ was all he could reply. Apparently, after the vet had poked his head out with ‘Next’ and saw what was going on with the dog, he hastily shut his door just before yelling, ‘Just weigh the dog’. It took Pete all his strength and wits to get her on the scales but without success. As soon as he got in the treatment room, she ran into an open cupboard and buried herself in the swabs. Pete spent the whole time apologising and we’ve moved vets.

Walks are proving to be interesting. As soon as the dog sees the lead come out of the cupboard she gets into a complete frenzy. She knows she’s got to calm down because she looks guilty but at the same time she can’t help herself. We get to the car and she hurls herself into the boot. We then drive to the forest and she’s drooling with excitement. She’s certainly getting better during the walk. There was a time she’d simply run off but through resorting to a pocketful of treats she’s now coming back. I had to take action after the time she ran behind a dog who was running behind his master’s bike. It was after screaming myself hoarse with ‘come here!!!!!’ that I had to run after the f****** dog to catch her. I’d say it was the UK record for the 1 minute mile in wellies. Thankfully, she’s learning where here bread is buttered and now coming back when I call.

But, getting her back in the car is a nightmare. After shouting ‘jump’ or ‘in’, she just looks at me – like a victim about to enter the gallows. She’s too wet to pick up and I’m losing patience. I walk her ten metres up the road and then run towards the boot as if I’m show jumping at Hickstead. She gallantly runs beside me then refuses at the gate. I want to scream. She knows how to get in because she does it when we’re going out. I’m about to give her the full volume treatment when I notice the gentile couple walking past with their incredibly obedient FULL PEDIGREE lab. I return the ‘good afternoon’ and pick up my dog and place her in the boot.

And she’s such a thief. She gets something in her mouth, surreptitiously, and before you can shout ‘stop’ she’s run to the end of the garden where she disappears with the said item into her lair. It’s impossible to get to it unless we dig up the boundary hedge but I happen to know that somewhere deep in that dark place there are eleven tea towels, one school shoe, at least four pairs of socks, a bathroom sponge, two rolls of toilet paper and a roll of plastic bin liners. Last week she was trying to nick a bag of screws. Pete happened to see her skulking out of the garage with the bag in her mouth. As soon as he shouted at her she knew she was in trouble and dropped them before tearing down the garden into her den. The thing I want to know is – why a bag of screws?

The very fact I’m blogging about my dog worries me. As I said, I’m not a doggy person but she seems to have got under my skin.