Of Dogs and Men

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It was Robert Burns’ poem “Of Mice and Men” that inspired me to use this title.

Burns, of course, had more insight than I, with my short, albeit much longer missive than his.

The inspiration for his poem, when he came across the ruined nest of a field mouse. Destroyed by Burns himself whilst out harvesting late one summer.

On seeing the destruction of her home. He would reflect how easily a man’s life might also be turned upside down under the fickle hand of fate.

At the end of the poem, he commented:

‘The best-laid plans of mice and men gang (go) aft agley (awry)’

The following is my description of how life may be turned upside down with the arrival of a new best friend.

At the time of writing, she is a seven-month-old Hungarian Vizsla bitch.

My sister bred her. Delivered to this life on 25th June 2020 at a few minutes past midnight.

The fifth of nine pups in the litter, she was the smallest in the brood and the last one homed. Not, it has to be said that there was ever any shortage of takers.

Thus after eight exhausting weeks of puppy rearing, she was only too pleased to see the back of Elkie’s children.

Sarah offered us Effie as a gift. The pups' 'kennel names' would begin with an 'E' after mum, Elkie

Deciding whether we wanted our lives turned upside down would take the next few days. Especially as the pup was of a notoriously raucous breed. Furthermore, a puppyhood that in this breed can last three years!

Elkie with some of her nine pups, Eric, Enzo, Echo, Etienne, Ellie, Emma, Effie, Emily and Electra.

It had been 24 years since my own nine-year ownership of a previous canine came to an end. Oscar, a lurcher, gifted to me as a wedding present.

His life would end tragically after chasing a cat up a garden wall.

A short snap of freezing rain resulted in him losing his grip on the ice. He was to fall back on his tail-end breaking his back.

Poor old Oscar! I never did understand his penchant for cat-chasing. Other than the fact that he found it hilarious. He never, ever caught one and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have had the first clue of what to do with the thing if he ever had.

Dawn and I are both in the touring industry.

We met in a car park in St. Ives in Cornwall.

We were both working for The Travel Corporation. Romantic I know - the car park, not The Travel Corporation. Long periods away from home is the norm, as opposed to the exception.

So for a short period of reflection of our present circumstances:

We had chosen not to work last year - take a year out and enjoy summer at home. The first one for me, in 30-odd years

We have both been unable to work this year because of the CoronaVirus

2021 looks as if it may be a lean year too, for work

The first of a two-part decision then made. As far as dog ownership went it was ‘now or never’.

The decision was finally made when my sis offered:

“...and if you ever go away, we would love to look after her.”

Thus at 8 weeks of age, as dictated by English law. On the 21st of August, we would take delivery of Effie.

Dawn pointed out, the name had to go. To call out for 'Effie Dog' or worse, 'Effie Bitch' could be misinterpreted.

Had 'she' been a 'he' with all the recent Brexit palaver going on, he would surely have been called Boris. With his eternal optimism and bounce. The nearest we could get then was Doris!



Dawn finding it impossible not to cuddle 4kgs of newly arrived cuteness

I am thankful to my sister for having the foresight in lending us her puppy crate, to help with training.

Whilst we lacked the determination to endure heart-wrenching cries of our new charge. Leaving her in the kitchen overnight was not for us, an option.

Her dormitory arrangements for the first two weeks were right next to us in the bedroom.

A home-made bed made from an old toy-storage trunk. Lined with a brand new and an especially bought fluffy blanket. This served as ‘zombie containment unit’.

She soon accepted the crate in the kitchen as a place of refuge. Before long she was quite happy to retire there before us in the evening.

In the next two months of life, Doris would more than double her weight to 10kg. Yet, her siblings would pass that mark some weeks earlier.

She would soon become an expert in the athleticism that is called 'Parcourt'.

Using every stick of furniture launching herself, ricocheting into a new trajectory. Thus she performs her daily ‘Zombie’ acts. of ferocious energy that apparently has to be released at full speed.

She has convinced herself she is totally hilarious. Ergo the object of every human desire!

These displays of energy soon made it clear that puppy school was imperative. Puppy school is not for her, you understand, but for her new and bemused parents. I am pleased to report that we have achieved some semblance of success.

Puppy-biting and nipping became a bit of a problem. A lesson learned from Puppy School was that young puppies need up to 20 hours of sleep per day.

First day of puppy School

'Over-exercise could be a problem in securing that sleep.' is what we were soon told

'No more than five minutes of exercise per month of age'.

Were Cheryl's instructions. Our newfound guru of ‘all things pup’ was proving a godsend.

Whoops! We were doing one-hour walks instead of 15 minutes. With playing time she was lucky to get any more than eight hours of sleep in total.

Whilst I can far from claim a total cure. The painful and often bloody 'biting' habit has now thankfully, greatly diminished.

Doris’ homegrown philosophy at present is:

‘If it squeaks, it should be killed as quickly as possible ..and then killed again …. Several times a minute!’

I have to admit that puppy ownership has become a huge time-sink. Demands for attention, games, walks, frenetic and high-speed activity in the garden. In combination with a total reliance on feeding, loving and care. Not to mention the need for a human body to lie on whenever the opportunity presents itself.

The logic of the term ‘Velcro Vizsla’ soon became clear. She is definitely not happy unless both of us are in sight at all times. Should one of us pop out to do some shopping or other errand -She will leap up on to the telephone table in the front window. Stare out and squeak with incredulity and disappointment at the departing car.

This is soon followed by an almost suicidal whole-body-hurling at the remaining human. Insistent nose-plunging into the closest ear. Demanding that the ‘remaining human remains in sight. Better still in close bodily contact.

On the upside, on occasions when we let her loose in some field. Manic zooming about is essential in energy dispersal, but she never strays more than a few yards away.

Over the next three months, she has doubled her weight again to approaching 20kgs. And yes, of course, I am biased but she is gone from adorable pup to a very handsome young lady. I must admit to smiling inwardly, at every complimentary remark on our frequent walks.