Three years on...

 The 13th February marks three years since we lost the Boss, Rolo. He was an amazing fur, and we still miss him. 

One of the many difficult decisions that bereaved pet owners have to face is whether or when to get another pet. Some never do, as the pain of parting is just too much. Some, on the other paw, choose to get another almost straight away, and many come to that decision over a longer time period. None of those decisions are wrong; it's just a matter of what feels right and they certainly shouldn't feel, or even worse, be made to feel, guilty or disloyal.

'Them Indoors' were lucky in many respects, as they had me. Whilst there was still a big Rolo shaped hole in our family, I was a comfort to them and gave them a furry focus during their saddest times. Whilst no dog replaces another, Rolo's rightful heir apparent is Bear. And a very worthy one she is too! 'Her Indoors' had been in touch with Bear's breeder for some time, but the moment she knew we were definitely getting Bear was in a phone conversation exactly two years to the day since we lost Rolo, a spooky coincidence.

 The arrival of a new puppy didn't push Rolo into the background, quite the opposite. As the last dog 'Them Indoors' had since a puppy was Rolo, every step along the way has brought back happy memories of when Rolo was a youngster. There are also some striking parallels between Rolo and Bear. In fact 'Her Indoors' reckons they are experts at choosing the naughtiest puppy in the litter with a 100% success rate. Both dogs are bold and unafraid, taking new experiences in their stride. Both share a strong hunting instinct and a penchant for mischief. But unlike the Boss, who frankly didn't care too much if people got cross with him, Bear is a very people focused dog and doesn't like to cause an upset. She is naughty, but in a carefree, joyous kind of way that makes it difficult to be stern, and she loves physical attention which the Boss could take or leave. The Boss was friendly but Bear is overjoyed to see anyone, canine or human, and she is relentlessly happy and good-natured. I'm sure they would have got on if they'd met, and having Bear has brought back so much of what was good about owning Rolo.

The anniversary of Rolo's death, is followed very swiftly by Bear's birthday, then my gotcha day comes along followed by my birthday. All of these anniversaries merge together in a swirl of both happy and poignant memories. My gotcha day, is also the anniversary of my previous owner, Sandra's, passing, so we cannot celebrate one without remembering the other, a bit like Bear and Rolo.

So if you find yourself bereaved and thinking about getting another pet, don't worry, a new addition to your family will carry the memory of the lost one with them. And because you will know how quickly time passes, you will hang onto every joyous moment all the more. Life is for living and as long as we have memories, lost friends are part of our everyday life and are cherished and celebrated. The Boss still walks with us and for that we are very grateful.

                                                    Bear, part of a proud dynasty...

My Christmas Address to the Nation!

 Well, my Pals, this year has zoomed along, like a Border Terrier after a ball (unless they are me of course, I don't do that chasing stuff) and here we are, at Christmas already. As I write this, in spite of soaring numbers of new variant COVID cases, the Juniors are still legitimately set to come home tomorrow, although 'Him Indoors' is going to collect them in his car so they don't have to run the gauntlet of train travel. 'Him Indoors' mum is due to join us on the big day too. Bear and I shall be dressed in our festive jumpers waiting to greet all visitors at the door and let them in if they have brought us presents.  'Her Indoors' has dusted and wrapped, decorated and baked to such an extent that passing royalty would find nothing lacking in our household, so if you are near by Sir Clapton.....!

It has been quite a year. Adding to our cannine household has been a major event. Bear is my great-neice, she is a Border Terrier and she has a lovely nature, but other than that we are very different furs. She is an adventurous, undaunted, pocket rocket with exceptionally hairy ears and the teeth of a pre-historic raptor, who thinks everyone is her friend. The list of things she has chewed her way through in the last eight months is legend and she is a monkey moo of the first order. We all love her dearly and she loves us, especially, with impecable taste it has to be said, me! This is a mixed blessing as she wants to play, endlessly, she loves my beds far more than she loves her own, and I spend a lot of time squeezed into a bed intended for a much smaller fur, namely her! If I manage to hold out in my own beddie, she climbs in and shares. Whilst I occasionally grumble, she is nice and warm and she does do good ear lickings so I generally let her get away with it, as we all do acutally, accept 'Her Indoors' who has a heart of pure granite as you all know.

'Him Indoors' finds it impossible to be firm with either of us and his most severe rebuke of 'Bear, would you mind not doing that please, there's a good girl,' is not really cutting the mustard. If 'Her Indoors' has to go out and 'Him Indoors' is left nominally in charge, she normally comes back to an harrassed husband and a dining table covered with items that have been rescued from small jaws, a good proportion of which have been severely chewed. His explanation is that he is, by nature, much more suited to the 'good cop' role, so he doles out the treats, is generous when doing the cooking, and leaves 'Her Indoors' to the job of instilling some modicum of decoram into our behaviour.

Whilst Bear has appeared in my Sussex Living column, and, of course, has her own Twitter account where she has accumulated a fine number of followers for one so young, I haven't let her loose on her own yet, in literary terms. Still, it is Christmas, so I will leave Bear to sign off with our Christmas greeting. Here we go, and don't say you haven't been warned....

Thank you Uncle Teds! I just want to say a very happy, yappy Christmas to all our fur pals and their hupeeps. Chew everything, eat everything, drink everything and regret nothing! Love everyone, be happy and, whatever you do, don't be boring snoring! Love and lickings to you all.

 

                                                              Supervising!

                           Assuming the position but not looking at the screen *sighs*

                                                        A very happy Christmas to you all.

Happy Holidays!

 We have just had sixteen nights away in the motorhome and have visited five different sites up and down the country. At our second site, in Lancaster, 'Her Indoors' was attending her academy at Lancaster University, leaving 'Him Indoors' in charge of us dogs. He tried to take us for our afternoon walk by himself and, as he lacks experience in the dual walking department, ran into trouble pretty quickly. I refused to budge. I don't like changes to my routine and 'Her Indoors' is the primary dog walker in our household. Having been coxed into action, we then met an off-lead, roaming Jack Russell, who clearly had designs of a dishonourable nature, on Bear, and 'Him Indoors' had to rapidly step in to defend her from his amorous advances. After we got back from that walk, 'Him Indoors' was searching out the beer. and grimly texting 'Her Indoors' with an update. 

Said Jack Russell turned up, unaccompanied, outside our motorhome, the following night leaving 'Them Indoors' wondering if Bear was coming into season, although she didn't display any of the signs they'd been led to expect. However, none of the other dogs we've met on holiday have displayed any untoward inclinations with regards to the pupster, so we finally just nicknamed the Jack Russell, Randy, and checked the storage compartments for a potential small stowaway before we left for the next site.

We moved onto Richmond in Yorkshire, where, as luck would have it, our visit overlapped by a day with Louise and Graham, the delightful hupeeps of Fergus and Toby from the BTPosse. We had a lovely walk together with the hupeeps chatting for England and Scotland respectively. Bear was beside herself with excitement, and I discovered , in Fergus, a Border Terrier marginally bigger than me, quite an achievement. Anyway, all the dogs walked politely together and we enjoyed an unexpected mini tweet-up. The following day we were supposed to meet up for a long-arranged walk with my Pal Eric, and his lovey hupeeps, Julie and Peter. Unfortunately, at the very last minute, it was discovered that Eric had been in contact with a fur who had developed kennel cough, and as both Bear and I are due our vaccination, we reluctantly decided not to risk it. Very disappointing as we live a long way apart and don't get the chance to meet very often.

Whilst we were staying at Richmond, we made a pilgrimage to Thirsk and the James Herriot museum. Now not only was James Herriot, or Alf Wight as he really was, a writer who could make 'Her Indoors' Dad laugh out loud when reading his books, but he was also an animal lover and, best of all, a Border Terrier owner. Whilst, rather oddly all things considered, we furs were not allowed into the museum, 'Them Indoors' took it in turns to go in and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Our visit to Richmond coincided with Bear, in a now familiar ritual, eating her was through her lead, which engendered an emergency visit to a couple of pet shops to try and find a chain one that could withstand the rigours of her teeth. Bear also managed to chew through two guy ropes, part way through my stake-out tether and her camping food bowl which was a bit of an own goal. However, her most worrying moment came when 'Her Indoors' was sitting outside happily reading her book with Bear sleeping next to her, on her tether, or at least we thought she was... 'Her Indoors' discovered Bear had disappeared through a gap in the hedge behind our pitch, and, at the full stretch of her lead, had discovered the electric cable for the caravan behind us. 'Her Indoors' was horrified to see Bear lying next to the cable, chewing, and producing orange shreds that looked like the cables' coating. Bear was hastily retrieved and put in the motorhome, whilst 'Her Indoors' trotted round to explain, apologise and offer compensation. When she got there however, the people were out, and, on close inspection of the cable, it was found that Bear had been chewing a rather orangey stick next to it, rather than the cable itself. Panic over, although it has to be said that 'Her Indoors' supposition was not unfounded.

We did lots of good stuff on holiday. Bear personally greeted half of Yorkshire and there were also a couple of cooked breakfasts where our divine right to the last sausage was respected, although I had to share with Bear. We had some great walks, although Bear had to learn that the correct response to birdwatching at an RSPB reserve is to settle down for a quick snooze whilst 'Them Indoors' peer excitedly down binoculars or a telescope. Bear found a large feather to carry round, although 'Her Indoors' did rightly point out that small terrier with feathers in its mouth on a bird reserve probably wasn't the best look...

We also visited a model village in Sewerby, which let furs in. I trotted around politely on my lead, but Bear was fascinated by the model train which she wanted to chase.  She also hopped over the fence into the middle of the model cricket match and 'Her Indoors' had visions of her running off with one of the figures and giving them a quick chew, so she was quickly helped back onto the path and kept on a short lead. We managed to get out without incident which was a mercy.

At our final site, we enjoyed the delights of two enclosed dog walking fields where both Bear and I could chase around off-lead. There are not many places where this happens as I'm not good with children or some other dogs, so 'Her Indoors' usually keeps me firmly tethered. And although we have a good-sized garden at home, I'm far too busy obsessing about Ol' Fluffy Woofy, the Leonberger next door, for such frivolous fun. Someone has to keep watch at the boundary. Anyway, here, we could run around to our heart's delight although Bear did little frustrated barks when I was faster than her. Still, I can't imagine that situation will last for long, she's growing at a rapid pace.

So a good time was had by all and although it is lovely being away, it's also great to be back home and into our familiar routine. However, now 'Him Indoors' has retired, we are hoping to do a bit more motorhoming. New adventures beckon... 

                                                Bear closely supervising some sausage cooking

                                                            Sunning ourselves

                                                        Bear doing some underwear theft!

                                                      Look who is watching the Wotsits!

                                              Waiting for 'Her Indoors' to come back from uni

                                                     Alf Wight demonstrating his good taste in dogs

                                                          That hamburger looks nice...

                                                         Okay, we'll settle for our own tea

                                                    The appropriate response to bird watching

                                                              Borders in Bridlington

                                                           Bear...erm...'admiring' the train

Vet Visit

 Today was the annual vet visit for my jabs and this is not something I particularly enjoy. Border Terriers are renown for being stoical with regard to pain, but I am not a brave Border. I don't do aggression, I just refuse to co-operate. Added to this, our vet practice is still enforcing COVID restrictions which means 'Her Indoors' has to 'phone from the car park to let them know we have arrived and then the vet comes out to us and expects me to go trotting off nicely, leaving 'Her Indoors' behind in the car park. As I have separation anxiety I don't go trotting anywhere without my family, and, anyway, Charlie says 'never go with strangers' and he seems like a sensible fur. So the upshot of all of this was that when the vet appeared, I refused to budge. The vet suggested picking me up, but 'Her Indoors' rightly pointed out that I'm not keen on strangers elevating me - I'm not a sack of potatoes, I have my dignity - so 'Her Indoors' suggested she pick me up and then hand me over. At this point the vet wisely allowed 'Her Indoors' to accompany me which was just as well; I refused to get on the scales, stand nicely on the table, open my mouth or do anything else. I might not do stoical but I major on stubbornness. 'Her Indoors' just calmly manoevered me, with the deftness born of years of experience with recalcitrant Borders, to allow the appropriate examinations to take place.

Whilst all this was going on, they were talking about the apprentice Bear, which was rather rude as she wasn't actually with us. I bet her little hairy ears were burning back at home. Anyway, apparently Bear will be getting a spade at some point in the next eighteen months, unless she wants puppies. To be honest, puppies are a lot of trouble so a spade is probably easier although Bear is perfectly capable of digging all by herself. Still, she can always chew it I suppose. Then, to my surprise, 'Her Indoors' admitted to not knowing the signs of a season. I know it has been a wet summer but she's been round the block a few times so you'd have thought she'd recognise a damp August when she sees one. She's supposed to be doing a PhD which is a miracle as there’s clearly not a lot going on upstairs.

On the positive side, I have lost a little weight since I was last at the vets (either that, or I didn't have all of me on the scales) so that's a good excuse for a few more treats. Apparently running around with Bear has slimmed me down. I am also in fine fettle, have good muscle definition and even my teeth are pretty good for my age. So all in all, the visit was a success. I even deigned to eat a gravy bone when offered one which I think was rather gracious of me, all things considered.

 

Who needs a vet anyway!

I don't do something I don't want to...

Adopt don't shop?

    When it comes to the age old debate about whether it is best to acquire a new dog by rehoming or getting a puppy, we have experience from both sides. I was rehomed by 'Them Indoors' three years ago whereas my predecessor, the Boss, and now my new apprentice,  Bear, were bought as puppies. People sometimes have strong views about this issue,  seeing it as immoral to get a pup when there are older dogs looking for a home, but I reckon there are pros and cons on both sides.

Now clearly, as rehomed fur, I am going to extol the benefits of a pre-owned dog. Taking on a fur who is without a home of their own, for whatever reason, is clearly a very good thing to do. In my case, it was not only good for me, it was also good for my poorly owner, who knew when she was dying, that her much loved dog was going to be taken good care of, which was a huge weight off her mind. Also, when you rehome a dog via a reputable charity, you should have a fair idea of what you are getting in terms of personality and behavioral traits. Some of the basics such as house training and mastery of the fundamental commands, may already have been covered. Rehoming is also a cheaper option than buying a puppy, which at the present time, when puppies cost thousands of pounds, is a significant consideration. An adult dog may also have already been neutered or spayed and hopefully any significant health issues will be apparent.

However, there are some disadvantages with rehoming, and one of the most apparent is that you don't have a dog for the whole of their life. As our lives our relatively sort compared to people, this is something of an issue. I was almost six when I came to 'Them Indoors', which, depending on how long I live, is at least a third of my life already gone.'Them Indoors' will never know me as a puppy or a young dog. Whilst 'Them Indoors' did have a lot of information about me before they took me on, not all charities are as thorough as perhaps they should be and people can take on a fur in good faith, only to find that they have got more than they bargained for. Many rehomed dogs, myself included, come with some significant issues. I have bad separation anxiety and this was at fever pitch when I first arrived. I used to get upset if I was left in a room let alone in the house, by myself. I'm also reactive with other dogs and not good with children. I had been allowed on the beds and furniture in my previous home, which isn't allowed by 'Them Indoors', although they have compromised and allowed me to sleep in their bedroom, but in my own bed. Whilst some of these issues, with love and effort, have improved, they have not gone away and are likely to remain for the rest of my life. I was also very unsettled when I first arrived. I cried at night, refused to eat, peed in the house and required a lot of patience and kindness. There can also be problems in getting a dog to rehome, particularly if you want a specific type, breed, gender or age. Rehoming charities are rightly quite particular about where their dogs go so there could be restrictions on things like location and how long potential owners spend away from home on a daily basis. There are cases of people waiting years for a dog.

On the other hand, puppies, depending on the breed, are often easier to find, although you might have to travel to get what you want. And you can get exactly what you want in terms of breed, gender and colour. You even get to chose their name. A puppy, from a reputable breeder, is a blank page in terms of behavioral issues, and you have the opportunity to bring them up according to your own rules. If you have children, the puppy will grow up with them, and both will learn about each other. You also get the dog for their entire lifespan. And perhaps the main reason for getting a puppy is they are fun. They are joyous, loving and needy, irresitably cute and, apparently, the nearest thing to having a baby other than having a baby.

Yet puppies have disadvantages. Finding a reputable breeder can be tricky and, as puppies fetch big money, there are some unscrupulous people out there. Even with good breeders, puppies are expensive. There are also some hidden costs. Puppies can be quite destructive. They explore the world partly by taking things in their mouth and chewing on them. Bear has already destroyed numerous toys, her soft crate, slippers and the lounge rug will never be the same again! They go through a phase of mouthing, affectionately known as 'sharks teeth' in our household, when they bite at everything including people. Bear has drawn blood on more than one occasion. Puppies also have to learn to sleep through the night, wee and poo in socially acceptable places, and to do all the basic dog stuff like sit, stay, lie down, walk nicely on a lead and behave appropriately with other people and dogs in a whole range of circumstances. And they don't learn by magic. They have to be patiently taught, from scratch. As you chose a puppy when they are only a few weeks old, it is often difficult to accurately assess their personality. The Boss was a tour de force for the whole of his life but this wasn't apparent  at the outset. All puppies are cute, but that little bundle of fluff will soon be a  much bigger, stroppy adolescent, pushing the boundaries.

So do you adopt or do you shop? 'Them Indoors' are very happy with their decisions and would happily do either again. However, you need to think very hard about both options. A dog, under any circumstances is a big decision and 'Them Indoors' mulled over getting a second for about eighteen months before finally taking the plunge with Bear. And we are all very happy they did which, after all, is the right outcome whatever the decision over the source.

                                                                    So cute!

But destructive...

 

                                        My first meeting with 'Her Indoors' at my previous home

Teddy Bear - a new legend dawns!

 It has been quite a week in our household. Last Saturday saw the much anticipated arrival of my apprentice, Bear, who is, for the sake of clarity, a girl! Now nobody asked me if I wanted an apprentice, and I wasn't involved in the choosing process, which quite frankly was a bit rude, so I reserved my judgement until after I met her.

'Them Indoors' had given some careful thought as to how to manage the introduction, and decided to take me with them when they went to collect Bear. I travel strapped into a car seat, and Bear has her own, so we came home in the back of the car, with 'Her Indoors' in between us, giving us equal fussing. When we got home, we did a nice wander around the garden and then we went inside; me first, obviously, as it is my house.

'Her Indoors' was very careful about food, fussing and toys, as these were obvious potential bones of contention, if you'll excuse the pun, but things have gone very smoothly. Bear loves me - obviously - and it took only three days of her best puppy charm before I was playing with her, zooming up and down the hall, dropping toys for her and returning her play bows. 'Her Indoors' is very firm about crate time for both of us, so we get plenty of rest, which is absolutely fine by me - I love a nice beddie as you know.

Whilst Bear has her disadvantages: she pinches toys, jumps up at my ears and tail and is fascinated by my bed, she also has some advantages. New toys have appeared like magic, there have been joint training sessions - easy peasey stuff like 'sit' and 'bed', with accompanying treats, and lots of praise for being tolerant. 'Her Indoors' was a bit horrified when I yawned one time, and Bear decided to put her head in my mouth, like a lion tamer, to look for any left over noms. I stood there patiently with my mouth open until she had finished. I have tried to sneak some of her dinner but 'Her Indoors' has learnt to be more careful as puppy food is a bit rich and it unsettled my tum slightly. 

Bear has been very quick to catch on in the weeing and pooing outside department, probably helped by the lavish praise that is heaped upon her every bladder and bowl movement. Anyone would think she was excreting pure gold! The flip side of this is that 'Her Indoors' has found herself accidentally praising me for the same thing, as if I haven't been doing it for years without a mention! The only time Bear seems to have lots of accidents, is when 'Him Indoors' is left in sole supervision. 'Her Indoors' has been muttering darkly about him 'not reading the signs', but I've not see Bear holding up any signs so I think she's being a bit unfair. It took Bear a short while to realise that night times are for sleeping, but she is now going through the night which is a relief to us all.

Useful pieces of equipment in the puppy containment department are her crate, a puppy play pen and a stairgate across the kitchen door. Deployed tactically, these can give us brief respite on needing eyes in the back of our heads and high speed reflexes. She also has a backpack so she can accompany us on walks and start to get used to the sights and sounds of the big wide world. She sits in it, watching me closely.

She has had her second vaccination, so next weekend she can go on her first walk, and next week we shall be meeting a few of our important people, including Ann and Peter who sometimes look after me for the day if 'Them Indoors' have to go off somewhere. Their garden is ace and they are excellent at spoiling a fur so Bear needs to make a good impression. Then she's got a play date with two very well-behaved and sociable labradors and, in a few week's time, her first trip in the motorhome.

I shall be with her all the way, showing her the ropes, as the Boss did for me. After all, a Teddy and a Bear were clearly intended to be quite a team! 

                                                She's mastered the stairs and the tilty head!

                                                She even sleeps occasionally...

                                            That's one of my toys, bloomin' cheek!

                            Showing the pupster how to deploy the appealing eyes for treats.

                                                        Bear in her beddie!

Time goes by...

Today is the second anniversary of the passing of my predecessor, the late, great Rolo. Our lives overlapped for about a year and I am forever in his debt for accepting me, when he was a very senior dog, as part of his household, and for sharing with me just a few of his many skills and experiences. He was quite a fur!

When dogs go over the rainbow bridge, there is an understandable out-pouring of heartfelt anguish from their family. Those who have lost a pet, know how it feels, and there is much love and support for those who are going through such a bereavement, at least in the lovely world of dog twitter, if not always in the wider world. But although it doesn't feel like it will ever happen at the time, feelings do change and for us, the pain of loss has been replaced by a fond remembrance and a gratitude for the time we had together. Rolo might not be here in the fur, but his presence is carried with us and anyone who knew him, through our lives. His mark, like paw prints in setting concrete (it will be no surprise to learn that Rolos' are forever embedded in the foundations to 'Her Indoors' office!), is indelible.

When Rolo died, he was sixteen years and three months old. He suffered from the range of aging infirmities including bad arthritis which plagued his later years. When he passed, the memories were of an elderly dog, in decline. Two years on, 'Them Indoors' can remember him as a younger fur, playing with the juniors, obsessed with tennis balls, racing around, forever up to no-good. They remember his whole life not just the end part.

We are particularly blessed with the Boss. He left his two books: 'The Last Rolo' - a year in his life, and 'Sit, Stay, Roll Over' - a training manual for dogs on how to get the best out of their humans. His voice is forever with us and anyone else who cares to read them. Add to that, the videos, photos and memory box 'Them Indoors' compiled after he passed, and we have a wealth of happy reminders of a fine dog who led life to the full, at top speed!

Death is a part of life, and knowing it is there for all of us, gives tremendous value to the time we have together. And a death, although terribly sad, is not necessarily a tragedy, it is the end of a chapter. When my previous owner, Sandra, died, it felt like my world was collapsing, but I have gone on to find great happiness in my new home, and have done many things I had never done before with a whole new family. Whilst I didn't replace the Boss; he was and is irreplaceable, what can I tell you, I did help 'Them Indoors' to move forward and I've taught 'Him Indoors' that there are many different kinds of dog, and Rolo was his own indimitable version.

So, on this special anniversary, we won't feel sad, we'll feel happy for the great times we had, and the fun times we are having and will have, of which, Rolo is still a part. And if you have recently lost a pet yourself, take heart, it does get easier and one day, you too will look back and smile.

                                                                    What a cutie!

                                                As a youngster - he was a fine looking fur!

                                                                 Rolo the author

                                                             The Boss in MY bed!

                                             The Boss teaching me how to be a literary fur!