DOGS FOR EVER

I was much struck by an item on the BBC website yesterday reporting the conviction for false accounting of the Tory peer Lord Hanningfield. The accused stated that “He had to return home to look after his Bernese mountain dog, Jefferson, and had incurred costs, including £20 a day for dog walking and housekeeping costs, which he could not claim. He told the trial: ‘As I lived alone I wouldn't survive without my dog.’

At first I thought the remark pathetic and self-serving, but then it came to me that dog-owners are a really fine body of men (I have been one myself) and the flame of human sympathy began to glow in my heart.  In truth, the Bernese mountain dog is one of the most attractive dog breeds, large, good natured and needing plenty exercise. Jefferson is a famous name, redolent of courage and intelligence – I bet Hanningfield’s dog is a handsome beauty. Then his punch-line “As I lived alone I wouldn’t survive without my dog.” My heart melts. It is not because Hanningfield lives in Essex, which he does, and needs protection; it is because he lives alone, that he needs Jefferson to give him that loyal affection and quiet company that only a dog can bring. Please, kind Judge, do not give him a custodial sentence, but if you must, allow Jefferson to come along too!

The relationship between Man and Dog is often thus. Homer sings the story of Argos, faithful companion of Odysseus, who recognises his master on his return home after 20 years. Argos is too old and weak to stand but can only drop his ears and wag his tail. Odysseus is moved to tears and then the old dog quietly dies. Remember Greyfriars Bobby, the Skye terrier, who kept a daily vigil for 14 years over the grave of his master, commemorated by a charming statue in Edinburgh. Then there is ever-resourceful Lassie, the Scottish collie, always actually played by a male dog, who had the great good fortune to be pressed against the warm breasts of a pubescent Elizabeth Taylor in the 1943 movie “Lassie Come Home”. More recently, the true story was told of Hachiko, the Japanese Akita, who waited 9 years in vain at the railway station for the return of his academic owner, victim of a lethal heart attack. It was made into a Richard Gere movie and moved from Tokyo to Rhode Island – with not a dry eye in our house, anyway. Faithfulness is a prime canine quality.

A great merit of dogs is that they seldom complain, unlike wives, children and the outside world in general. A dog will whine when it wants out, but humans also know the discomfort occasioned by postponing calls of nature. Dogs can be rather picky about their food. Many dogs happily gobble up canned dog-food, and do not even seek a variety of flavours; however our Yorkie disdained such fare and only ate what we ate (“Don’t over-grill the steak please”). All is well as long as they have enough food; one of our West Highland terriers quietly and contentedly chewed through a Persian lamb coat on a train journey. Our Norwegian elkhound appalled a visiting dowager lady baronet by gulping down the cucumber sandwich she recklessly waved about in her hand. But these are the exceptions to prove the rule; a well-fed dog is a happy dog and gives you no back-chat and no whining.

But the cheering thing about dogs is that they like to play and have fun. You may have the blues, but the dog, our Pekinese was a case in point, will want to tumble over, have his tummy rubbed and nuzzle against you. How many weary returns from a day in the City have been enlivened by a riotous welcome of jumping up and frantic tail-wagging. This welcome is often the preamble to the long anticipated “walkies”, an unbreakable part of the daily routine, come wind, rain or tempest. Of course walkies relax you too, as the dog strains at the lead wanting to sniff this dustbin or chase that squirrel – you are no longer thinking of that tense confrontation in the office or the necessity of completing and filing your tax-return. Dogs appreciate a spacious garden, where they can roam around unsupervised, dig up recently planted blooms and, in the case of our Peke, go into paroxysms of excitement on encountering at night the resident hedgehogs. Indoor games are a joy too, our elkhound being an easy winner of “Hunt the Apple”, quickly discovered under a cushion or in his master’s slippers. Yes, dogs are not remotely serious – they are fun.

Dogs are superb ice-breakers. Within two minutes of walking your dog down the road, someone walking theirs will approach you and ask about your animal. This may lead to other things you have in common and within minutes a new friend is made.  One of my sons borrowed the dog so that he could walk up Hampstead High Street and chat to a young lovely dog-walker who had caught his eye. They certainly got into conversation but history does not record whether it went any further.

It will have become obvious that I am infatuated by dogs (though I am intimidated by those tweedy, rather masculine ladies, who show at Crufts and breed champions). I am sure there are contrary voices who speak of yelping, poop-scooping, endless grooming, of animals more like Cerberus than Lassie, and all the heavy ties and responsibilities of ownership. Our time with a particular dog is seldom more than about 15 years and the parting of the ways is inevitably sad (how lucky they are to have the unquestioned right to euthanasia). I reckon we should make the most of our 4-legged family members, laugh and play with them and cherish their comforting presence in a world where disinterested affection is a rare blessing.

SMD

27.5.11

Copyright Sidney Donald 2011