Who’s a good boy?
I have been thinking about getting a dog for a long time, for the longest time. Not even put off by the horrid Yorkshire terrier we had when I was a child. Whenever I go round to a ‘dog’ house it always seems more fun, more lively and more relaxed. I guess it’s part of moving away from London, but now more of my friends have dogs. Suddenly it didn’t feel like such a big jump. Julie and James have a gorgeous Beagle, Rocket, who’s very naughty, but they still love him and probably think he’ll grow out of it - honestly, no, I’m sure he will - it’s just a shame that they need to find 10 sticks to play 10 rounds of ‘fetch’… because he won’t give anything back…
I’m not a worrier and not naturally anxious but I know that raising a dog is a big responsibility and I know that training is crucial to both parties’ well-being so I was naturally concerned about doing things ‘right’ and knew that I didn’t have a clue about what to do with regards to toilet training, stopping them wrecking your house and making sure they’re happy… Luckily there is tons of advice, unluckily nearly all of it conflicts with one another - use a crate, use a puppy pen, use puppy pads, don’t use them “they don’t need nappies because they’re not babies”, feed them dried liver/pigs ears, don’t give them anything ’spicy’ (leads to er-hem looser stools).
I chose him, nearly two weeks ago while he was about 6 weeks old, his breeder is also a vet, which really must be a good thing and I got to meet his mum, a lovely 2 1/2 year old black lab who wasn’t limping or blind, which are things you’re supposed to look out for. I spent a couple of hours playing with 3 or 4 pups and there wasn’t a whole load of difference between them, but still you have to choose and I chose the one who seemed the least bitey but still playful.
Over the last two weeks I’ve read a book or two and listened to lots of advice and felt fairly confident I would have to play things by ear. And the day finally came, and that day was yesterday… My good friend, Spence, came to provide moral support and to carry/look after/restrain the pup on the way back. I haven’t been this nervous since.. I don’t remember when, but luckily everything went swimmingly - we met his owner, Sue, and spent 1/2 hour chatting about stuff and doing a bit of paperwork, including his family tree (very impressive, lots of champions, if I was a dog mine wouldn’t be so hot I can tell you, but maybe that’s because there are more dog shows than human shows). We got the puppy in, Toby, that’s his name, my Mum chose it - she said she had a dream or something, and this name appeared, and I know she’d be dead chuffed to be involved so Toby it is… Anyway, we got Toby in and he sat on my lap, for ages, and was perfectly happy, and all my anxieties about whether I’d make a good ‘dad’ or not just melted away - I knew it would be fine…