The Rev has taken a sabbatical from work and as such he’s now home during the day to walk Mrs Woofy. So, after two years of walking, training and generally hanging around with Mrs Woofy I found myself surplus to requirements.
No, I agree, it’s hardly unreasonable wanting to walk your own dog, I can hear you saying. I agree totally.
Dedicated dog hater me suddenly found a huge dog shaped hole in my life and you wouldn’t believe how difficult I’ve found it. Yes, ok, I know. You dog people are probably nodding sagely to yourself and saying ‘Told you that would happen.’
Somehow Mrs Woofy has managed to worm her way into my affections to the point that not seeing her for ten days damn near broke my heart. I was pathetic. Crying and wailing and wailing, “I miss the do-o-og”, between sobs. For goodness sake, woman. You don’t even like dogs! I sat in Boofuls’ office crying, nay, sobbing the other day as he was trying to get on with some work. The tears flowed, ( mine, not his) my chest heaved, and the snot, well, let’s not even go there. Why can’t I cry prettily? After half an hour of watching me sob and trying to placate me the platitudes like, ‘nothing’s forever,’ he suddenly said, “We’d better get a dog then.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in through my sobs but when they did I felt a slow smile start to spread over my face. “Really? A dog? You don’t want a dog. ( accusingly) Do you? ( Hopefully) Really? (Even more hopefully) Can we have a dog? I don’t like dogs. Oh! A dog. Honestly? EEEEEEEEE!!!”
We had a discussion about various suitable dog breeds based on visiting grandchildren, walking, suitability for agility classes and general gorgeousness. We eventually decided that the best choice would be a golden retriever. The conversation was all a bit academic because if I was ever going to get a dog that would be the only breed I’d really consider, the other slight possibility would be a giant schnauzer.
Actually, if I was a dog I’d be a golden retriever because I’m not very big, blonde, a bit dizzy, quite intelligent (no, really) and inclined to get fat. Hhhm. What’s that thing about dog’s looking like their owners?
As soon as I got home the first task was to phone my sister. Not only to share my news and catch up on gossip but also to ask her advice as she’s quite good with dogs. She used to breed Alaskan malamutes and attend dog shows all over the country, once having one of her dogs compete at Cruft’s.
She squealed with delight when I told her. “I always knew you should have a dog!” Funnily enough, she always used to say to me that if the by some cruel stroke of fate happened to pop her clogs early, would I look after her dogs? I’d always reply, “Me. Are you mad? I hate bloody dogs.” The answer was always. “You think you do but I know you’d take good care of them.” Maybe she’d seen something in me I didn’t know was there.
“What kind of dog are you considering?” The answer elicited another, louder squeal. Loud enough for me to hold the phone away from my ear. ” PERFECT!!!? That’s exactly what I’d have picked for you.”
My next task was to look at suitable breeders. My sister sent me lots of links to various websites. Of course her background meant that she was looking for different things to me . I was thinking cuteness and cuddleability, she was thinking, show ring, blood lines, hip and eye scores.
As I was looking at one particular site, I saw a link that said ‘Goldendoodle.’ What the hell is a Goldendoodle? So I clicked.
My heart melted.
That’s the dog for me! Originally a cross between a golden retriever and a poodle, they were bred to be service dogs for people with allergies. They have all the qualities of a golden retriever, the intelligence of the poodle, non shedding and off the cuteness scale. I need a Goldendoodle!
I popped in to see The Rev, Gembolina , Clingons and of course Mrs Woofy who gave me the best welcome ever with her big stupid grin all over her face. While I was there The Rev suddenly piped up. “Mum, I know how much you love the dog. You can still walk her if you want to. I’m certain she won’t complain if she gets two walks in a day.” For the second time that day a big grin spread over my face. That was exactly what I wanted to hear.
I gave my news about getting a dog of my own. “Everyone sat bolt upright like they’d just had 10,00 volts through them. You? Getting a dog? Their reaction was hysterical. I don’t think they could have been any more excited if they’d tried.
I get a feeling that Mrs Woofy will be sending a fair amount of time with her new cousin when he/she arrives.