DOGS ARE SPECIAL!

I’ll nail my colours firmly to the mast; dogs are not pets or possessions; I choose to think of them as creature companions with whom we are privileged to share our existence, teaching us as much as we train them. I mentioned Ellie’s love of stones last time, and it’s a perfect example of how that transfer of knowledge flows easily in both directions.

She was a young dog, and I had taken her for a walk in a local park. A river flows through the centre, and at one point, a staircase of railway sleepers descends a steep slope. In addition to providing a safe route to the water’s edge, their width makes them an ideal location to sit and rest; to enjoy the surroundings. I found a comfortable seat halfway down while Ellie carried on into the river. Standing in the shallows close to the bank, she surveyed the scene. Then, her head stilled, and she slowly lowered it until it was entirely underwater. Bubbles soon began bursting at the surface, and I wondered how she knew that she had to hold her breath or certainly not try and take another one! After a few seconds, she raised her head, climbed out of the water and laid a stone on the lowest sleeper before shaking herself thoroughly. (If you’ve read the book, that description will sound familiar.) I gave her lots of praise and noticed another stone close to me. I threw it into the river and encouraged her to fetch it. She immediately did so, and as she dropped it alongside the first one, a voice from behind asked, ‘How on earth did you teach her how to do that?’ I turned to see that another dog walker had arrived. ‘I didn’t,’ I replied, ‘once she showed me that she enjoyed doing it, I simply followed her lead.’

From a young age, she was an avid squirrel chaser. In fact, their unique way of travelling through nearby woods greatly influenced her early puppy moves. When pursuing them, she mimicked their distinctive way of jumping in that signature, stop-start motion. As she got older, becoming more patient, her stalking became more considered. It was that evolution which taught me something else I might have missed.

We’ve all played a game as children similar to the ‘Weeping Angels’ in Doctor Who. One person stands, facing away from us. Our job is to creep up on them without being noticed. When they suddenly spin around to see what’s happening, we must remain completely motionless; otherwise, it’s back to the starting point! When Ellie had a squirrel in her sights, her creeping made slow-motion look fast! If she thought her quarry might be looking at her, even with peripheral vision, she would often stand with one of her four paws suspended above the grass. When safe to proceed, the ‘floating’ paw would slowly descend but hesitate slightly as it approached the ground. What I realised was how she used those little tufts of fur which protruded beneath her toes. They enabled her to automatically gauge how close her paw was to making contact with a solid surface, maybe avoiding a giveaway noise to alert her prey.

When we were on an early morning walk in a local park, a popular shortcut to the station, and Ellie and a squirrel were engaged in this double act, countless commuters had their days brightened up; they couldn’t help but smile at the time-stop antics they witnessed. Even if they passed close to her in her guise as a statue, her gaze never faltered. The good news for all concerned is that she never came anywhere close to catching a squirrel. But she never stopped trying! Was it an instinct or just fun? Who knows, and actually, who cares? I just enjoyed being part of something she created for herself.

Her interactions with other animals were interesting. No feuds with cats; precisely the opposite! She was positively Nelsonian. If she had to walk within a few feet of one, it just didn’t exist for her. Cat, what cat? She was very curious about horses from the outset, standing with her front paws on a wall, tail wagging as if she had just met an old friend. After her first encounter with sheep, we never worried about her causing them distress; in fact, we wondered if she thought she was distantly related!

When she was young, we hired a cottage on the Gower peninsula. Walking down a lane and through some woods brought us to the sand dunes. On our first expedition, she had gone on ahead. We noticed many sheep wandering around the grass as we cleared the trees. We were slightly concerned because we had seen occasional signs warning that sheep-worriers might be shot! Suddenly a line of dozen or so sheep, all perfectly spaced in sequence, emerged from behind a dune, running at right angles to us. They didn’t appear panicked or pursued, so we stood and watched the procession. Although Ellie was a Golden Retriever, she had a very pale coat; almost white. We suddenly spotted that she was right in the middle of the line, happily trotting along without a care in the world. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, and I think if we hadn’t called her, she would have happily stayed all day with her newfound holiday playmates!

Ellie inspired me in many ways. In particular, she never allowed herself to be deterred by the thought that a job might be too big to tackle. One walk we enjoyed was around some abandoned gravel pits. They had evolved into a picturesque area, with deep lakes, steep slopes, wooded borders and occasional islands rising close to the bank. There always were countless pieces of wood lying around, and she would happily swim out to get any I threw for her. Occasionally, thin but lengthy logs would have fallen in, but, as you can see in the photo, she wasn’t about to let their size be a reason for not bringing them ashore. She even worked out that once she had successfully beached one end, she could then complete the task by switching attention to the other.

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