Hold onto your hats, this is gonna be another long one!
For the same reasons I don't keep a diary, I don't keep my LJ up-to-date. There are times when I love to write about the things I have done and the things I have seen, then there are times when I just can't be bothered. Somethings do need telling either because they are so important that they shouldn't be forgotten, or simply because I need to remind myself that the world isn't as wonderful and friendly as I would like to believe.
This began over a month ago with a trip down to the river on a lovely hot Sunday. A picnic and a splash in the river with the children, collecting interesting rocks and spotting wildlife. It was a good day. On our return home we were followed by a lurcher. A bonnie looking thing. Rough haired, dark grey. It looked something like the lurcher "Alfred" from the TV series Heartbeat. We paused to give it a stroke. I guess we kind of figurd that it lived near by, but I couldn't remember seeing it around. You get to know the roamers, most of them are mongrels or terrier types. We carried on walking and still it followed us.
One thing I noticed was that it was drooling a lot. Lurchers, in general don't go in for drooling unless there is food around. The more I observed the dog, the more concerned I became. The dog kept tilting its head to one side and following its head in a half circle. The dog looked miserable, in fact it looked pathetic. I couldn't bear to watch it, so I took the risk of trying to open its mouth. Happily I didn't get bitten, but I did get a whiff of something that smelled like it was decomposing and the dog screamed like it had been kicked. The dog had no collar, and there was no owner in sight. If it was human you would ask if it needed help, you could offer to ring for an ambulance or direct it to the doctors, but it wasn't human, it was a dog. It was following us home. It followed us into the house and dashed out again when Kichi and Gyp met him. My mum had let herself in to collect Paddy. She had just finished getting Paddy into her car and was just on her way back into the house when the stray dog nearly mowed her down in its hurry to get away from Kichi and Gyp.
A couple of lads who live a few doors down from me saw the dog and said they recognised it as belonging to some git who lived in the next town. One of the lads had offered the owner over £100 for the dog. Apparently it was a good hunter. The lad had seen the bloke kick the dog in the face a few days previously, but he wasn't going to name the bloke because he's a hard case with a reputation. Apparently he deals in lurchers and other gazehounds as well as staffy type breeds. The lads themselves are a pair of little sods. They have been known to set dogs onto cats. My friend's cat was killed by one of their dogs, the poor cat was only 6 months old. It's the hunting game to them, but even they have principles. They don't mind killing an animal for sport, but the idea of a cruel act as kicking a dog in the face is something even they won't condone.
The dog followed my mum into the house. Kichi and Gyp gave him a brief sniff as dogs will, then they left him alone. I think even they were aware that he wasn't a healthy animal because they gave him presidence of the sofa. Under normal circumstances they won't permit any "non-pack" dog on their sofa. Even the cats aren't allowed to sleep on their sofa, and they live in the same house.
We called the local animal charities, but they all seemed to be reluctant to answer the phone on a sunday. We rang the vet for advise, but they couldn't do anything for him unless there was somebody who would take responsibility for the bill, we rang the RSPCA who told us to contact the dog warden who told us to contact the police who told us to contact the dog warden. We rang the RSPCA again and they decided to send someone out to look at him. 5 hours later the RSPCA turned up and told us what we had told them- he needed urgent veterinary treatment. They told us we could have taken him for emergency treatment sooner and they would have paid the bill. Why the hell didn't they tell us that over the phone when we explained the situation to them over 5 hours previously?
The dog was taken to our local vets. I popped by the next day to enquire. They couldn't tell me anything at the time except that they were still trying to acertain what was wrong with him and that he had a microchip but his owner couldn't be traced. The told me to call the following day.
I called in the next day. The owner still couldn't be traced, but the dog was doing well. His jaw was broken and they had had to operate on it. Apparently his jaw was such a mess that they had to wire it in such a way that the wire would remain with him perminantly. They let us visit him. He looked a bit perkier. I was suprised that he remembered us. He immedietly came up to me and stuck his head in my lap. The vet told us that when he was fit enough they would hand him over to the dog warden who would take him to the kennels. Happily the council have changed their kenneling contract. Stray dogs used to be held at the pet hotel, a nutorious kennels with poor conditions. Now they go to a much better kennels where they are kept for nine days then put into foster care with a view of finding them a new home.
Really I should have left it at that, but having seen the dog in such a mess I couldn't help but worry about him. If my dog had to be kept at the vets for days and days I would visit it everyday as I would with a close family member if they were in hospital. Ian and I spent ours going over the pros and cons of taking on another dog. My children had already decided that we were keeping him and that was on the first day when he followed us home. We visited him everyday at the vets and it was a delight to see him improve. He retained his lovable nature, and he was fantastic with the kids when we took them along to visit him. The staff at the vets loved him and I got daily reports, not just on his health, but on his temperment. Being a full male meant that he would have to be neutered if I had any hope of the girls accepting him. Also there was the possibilty of him being a cat killer. In all the con's out weighed the pro's, but everything seemed right.
It has always been my belief that everything happens for a reason, no matter how bad something may seem at the time. Time to let fate do its work. I contacted the kennels informing them of the situation regarding the lurcher and my interest him before he was even handed over to them. I expected to hit a lot of crossed wires and confusion, but I was surprised to find that I was easily accomodated and they took my telephone number there and then. They told me that when he arrived he would be assessed. If his owner was traced the RSPCA would be asked to chase it up and the dog may end up in the care of the RSPCA. If that didn't happen they would hold him for nine days. After that period they would contact me and I could collect him and be his legal owner.
We had visited the dog daily at the vets. At the start of the second week I went to visit him only to find that he had been handed over to the dog warden. I was disappointed at missing him because I couldn't travel everyday to Oswaldtwistle kennels to see him which meant that I wouldn't see him for another 9 days, or if fate was against me homing him, I might not see him at all. I went home and emailed the kennels. I didn't get a reply. I tried ringing, but I got the answering machine. I didn't leave my number. What will be will be. They already had my number. Now it was up to fate.
Four days before my birthday my telephone rang. The kennels invited me to collect the dog. I arranged to collect him the following day. I rang my mum who told me the dog should be called Flint and I agreed. The next day I took the train to Oswaldtwistle. Having never been before I had my trusty A-Z in my pocket. Everything ran smoothly until the last street- I couldn't bloody find it! I finally decided it must be the unnamed country lane that I had walked past 3 times, though there was no indication that there was a kennels up there. As I walked past chicken pens, allotments, and small gardens I began to feel I trespassing on private property. The road split in different directions and still I had seen no indication of a kennels. I carried on walking straight down the lane until finally I saw a black and white tom with the biggest set of furry pearls I've ever seen on a cat. In a strange kind of way I felt he knew I was lost because and headed towards me and stopped several feet away. I felt compelled to ask him the way to the kennels and I was suprised when he gave me a cursory glance and began walking beside me (yet retaining enough distance to maintain his dignity and prevent me from invading his personal space by presuming to touch him). I realised I had nothing to loose by following him, after all I was already lost. Happily he took me directly to the kennels where I thanked him for his help and we parted company.
I explained my presence to a gentlemen who directed me to a small office all the time expressing his own delight in my dog to be. At the office I was introduced to a lady. I was asked question and I asked questions of my own. I read and signed bits of paper and sat back while they brought Flint out of the kennels. After 9 days I expected he would have forgotten about me. I began to ponder again whether or not I was making a mistake. Things could go terribly wrong once I brought the dog home and I didn't have a back up plan. I had already worked out my finances and potential costs of having yet another animal to keep, I had already predicted the girls attitude towards the new dog. The hardest part was predicting Flint's behaviour around my other animals. As far as I could see I had covered all my bases and worked out all the potential problems. I'd discussed it with Ian, I'd discussed it with my mum. I was sure we had covered all potential problems. The only major problem was whether or not I had put to much assurance on Flint's temprement.
Flint came through the office door. As soon as he saw me his tail started to sway. He put his head on my lap and obviously I stroked him. It was a relief that he remembered me, even more of a relief that he still liked me! He was a pleasure to take him. He pulled a bit on the lead, but nothing like Kichi. He was very well behaved on the train. Kichi and Gyp remembered him, but now he is no longer in pain with a broken jaw he isn't allowed on their sofa. Paddy was at mine when I returned, he made an attempt at a few macho barks, but quickly dropped them in his delight at having another lurcher in the house. Sadly this delight soon became discomfort when Flint tried to mount him. That was something I hadn't thought of! Paddy is neutered, he's also very timid. Unlike Kichi and Gyp who will quickly tell a dog where to go if he tries to shower them with his attention, poor Paddy doesn't quite know what to do except bury his rear end into the sofa! Poor Paddy! I contacted the vets the same day to make an appointment to have Flint neutered in the meantime the girls had to put up with 5 days of him trying to flatter them. Despite this, and the fact that Flint was cocking his leg up against my furniture at every opportunity, I didn't have any regrets. It took 3 days for Flint to learn that cocking his leg up in the house is not a civilised way to behave. I think some of his toileting habits were a combination of territory marking and spending time in the kennels/vets. Paddy left the day after Flint arrived (he had all his worldly belonging packed in a red spotty hankerchief tied to a stick) he claimed he wasn't coming back, but he returned the day before Flint was neutered- apparently my mu's partner had taken their other dog (Cassie) over to Bradford with her for a few days visiting parents and Paddy was getting bored without having anydog to play with. While Paddy had been away Flint had discovered the cats. Or perhaps it was the other way round. The cats immedietly took on the "giant puff ball" pose on site of this invading dog. Flint tried to play with them, but got scratched for his efforts. I didn't like Flint's method of play- he nips far to close to the killing zone and I think he could easily kill a cat accidently if not on purpose. People often think hunting dogs are maliscious animal killers. They aren't. Killing an animal is just a game like fetching a stick. Paddy has be trained to play gently with the cats. Cheddar and Venus don't much like playing with dogs at all, but Cobble doesn't seem to mind a gentle play with Paddy. Paddy pretends to rip Cobble's legs off and Cobble pretends to tear Paddy's eyes out. Sadly I don't trust Flint to play so nicely so he is being discouraged from the cats. Cobble, however, is trying to teach Flint how to play nicely, but even Cobble doesn't trust Flint as much as he does Paddy.
Flint is doing very well. He is so eager to please and he is quickly learning what is acceptable and what is not. He has learned that feeding time is a civilised affair and every dog has his or her own bowl to eat from and there is no need to steal someone elses (unless they have stated quite clearly they have had enough to eat). Because the ratio of dogs out numbers my hands I can only put down 2 food bowls at a time. Gyp & kichi first followed by Flint (and if Paddy is here, him as well). Initially Flint would try to steal Gyp's food, but he has now learned that this isn't necessary. He has also discovered that he can eat his food as slowly as he pleases because nobody is going to try and eat it for him unless he walks away from his dish (by leaving his/her dish the dog is declaring that he/she is full and is inviting somedog to finish off what is left)
Flint has also learned that chasing the cats around the house is not acceptable, and he is allowed to sniff the cats but not nip. He still struggles to control himself if a cat runs past him. His immediate instinct is to run after it. I thought the cats might have decided to leave home by now, but I think they are quite content with having a safety gate at the bottom of the stairs- they can run around upstairs in the knowledge that they are in a dog Flint-free zone with three beds to choose from to lay on (my son's top bunk being the favourite).
I think Flint is settling in really well. He seems to have found his confidence. He has started jumping up to greet me, and at meal times he now turns into a kangaroo! The girls haven't accepted him onto their sofa yet, but Gypsy did allow him onto my bed yesterday morning for a family hug without threatening him. We have had 2 minor scuffles between Flint and Gypsy over human food, but nothing serious.
My bank account is stretched to its limit, but I still don't think Flint is a mistake
This began over a month ago with a trip down to the river on a lovely hot Sunday. A picnic and a splash in the river with the children, collecting interesting rocks and spotting wildlife. It was a good day. On our return home we were followed by a lurcher. A bonnie looking thing. Rough haired, dark grey. It looked something like the lurcher "Alfred" from the TV series Heartbeat. We paused to give it a stroke. I guess we kind of figurd that it lived near by, but I couldn't remember seeing it around. You get to know the roamers, most of them are mongrels or terrier types. We carried on walking and still it followed us.
One thing I noticed was that it was drooling a lot. Lurchers, in general don't go in for drooling unless there is food around. The more I observed the dog, the more concerned I became. The dog kept tilting its head to one side and following its head in a half circle. The dog looked miserable, in fact it looked pathetic. I couldn't bear to watch it, so I took the risk of trying to open its mouth. Happily I didn't get bitten, but I did get a whiff of something that smelled like it was decomposing and the dog screamed like it had been kicked. The dog had no collar, and there was no owner in sight. If it was human you would ask if it needed help, you could offer to ring for an ambulance or direct it to the doctors, but it wasn't human, it was a dog. It was following us home. It followed us into the house and dashed out again when Kichi and Gyp met him. My mum had let herself in to collect Paddy. She had just finished getting Paddy into her car and was just on her way back into the house when the stray dog nearly mowed her down in its hurry to get away from Kichi and Gyp.
A couple of lads who live a few doors down from me saw the dog and said they recognised it as belonging to some git who lived in the next town. One of the lads had offered the owner over £100 for the dog. Apparently it was a good hunter. The lad had seen the bloke kick the dog in the face a few days previously, but he wasn't going to name the bloke because he's a hard case with a reputation. Apparently he deals in lurchers and other gazehounds as well as staffy type breeds. The lads themselves are a pair of little sods. They have been known to set dogs onto cats. My friend's cat was killed by one of their dogs, the poor cat was only 6 months old. It's the hunting game to them, but even they have principles. They don't mind killing an animal for sport, but the idea of a cruel act as kicking a dog in the face is something even they won't condone.
The dog followed my mum into the house. Kichi and Gyp gave him a brief sniff as dogs will, then they left him alone. I think even they were aware that he wasn't a healthy animal because they gave him presidence of the sofa. Under normal circumstances they won't permit any "non-pack" dog on their sofa. Even the cats aren't allowed to sleep on their sofa, and they live in the same house.
We called the local animal charities, but they all seemed to be reluctant to answer the phone on a sunday. We rang the vet for advise, but they couldn't do anything for him unless there was somebody who would take responsibility for the bill, we rang the RSPCA who told us to contact the dog warden who told us to contact the police who told us to contact the dog warden. We rang the RSPCA again and they decided to send someone out to look at him. 5 hours later the RSPCA turned up and told us what we had told them- he needed urgent veterinary treatment. They told us we could have taken him for emergency treatment sooner and they would have paid the bill. Why the hell didn't they tell us that over the phone when we explained the situation to them over 5 hours previously?
The dog was taken to our local vets. I popped by the next day to enquire. They couldn't tell me anything at the time except that they were still trying to acertain what was wrong with him and that he had a microchip but his owner couldn't be traced. The told me to call the following day.
I called in the next day. The owner still couldn't be traced, but the dog was doing well. His jaw was broken and they had had to operate on it. Apparently his jaw was such a mess that they had to wire it in such a way that the wire would remain with him perminantly. They let us visit him. He looked a bit perkier. I was suprised that he remembered us. He immedietly came up to me and stuck his head in my lap. The vet told us that when he was fit enough they would hand him over to the dog warden who would take him to the kennels. Happily the council have changed their kenneling contract. Stray dogs used to be held at the pet hotel, a nutorious kennels with poor conditions. Now they go to a much better kennels where they are kept for nine days then put into foster care with a view of finding them a new home.
Really I should have left it at that, but having seen the dog in such a mess I couldn't help but worry about him. If my dog had to be kept at the vets for days and days I would visit it everyday as I would with a close family member if they were in hospital. Ian and I spent ours going over the pros and cons of taking on another dog. My children had already decided that we were keeping him and that was on the first day when he followed us home. We visited him everyday at the vets and it was a delight to see him improve. He retained his lovable nature, and he was fantastic with the kids when we took them along to visit him. The staff at the vets loved him and I got daily reports, not just on his health, but on his temperment. Being a full male meant that he would have to be neutered if I had any hope of the girls accepting him. Also there was the possibilty of him being a cat killer. In all the con's out weighed the pro's, but everything seemed right.
It has always been my belief that everything happens for a reason, no matter how bad something may seem at the time. Time to let fate do its work. I contacted the kennels informing them of the situation regarding the lurcher and my interest him before he was even handed over to them. I expected to hit a lot of crossed wires and confusion, but I was surprised to find that I was easily accomodated and they took my telephone number there and then. They told me that when he arrived he would be assessed. If his owner was traced the RSPCA would be asked to chase it up and the dog may end up in the care of the RSPCA. If that didn't happen they would hold him for nine days. After that period they would contact me and I could collect him and be his legal owner.
We had visited the dog daily at the vets. At the start of the second week I went to visit him only to find that he had been handed over to the dog warden. I was disappointed at missing him because I couldn't travel everyday to Oswaldtwistle kennels to see him which meant that I wouldn't see him for another 9 days, or if fate was against me homing him, I might not see him at all. I went home and emailed the kennels. I didn't get a reply. I tried ringing, but I got the answering machine. I didn't leave my number. What will be will be. They already had my number. Now it was up to fate.
Four days before my birthday my telephone rang. The kennels invited me to collect the dog. I arranged to collect him the following day. I rang my mum who told me the dog should be called Flint and I agreed. The next day I took the train to Oswaldtwistle. Having never been before I had my trusty A-Z in my pocket. Everything ran smoothly until the last street- I couldn't bloody find it! I finally decided it must be the unnamed country lane that I had walked past 3 times, though there was no indication that there was a kennels up there. As I walked past chicken pens, allotments, and small gardens I began to feel I trespassing on private property. The road split in different directions and still I had seen no indication of a kennels. I carried on walking straight down the lane until finally I saw a black and white tom with the biggest set of furry pearls I've ever seen on a cat. In a strange kind of way I felt he knew I was lost because and headed towards me and stopped several feet away. I felt compelled to ask him the way to the kennels and I was suprised when he gave me a cursory glance and began walking beside me (yet retaining enough distance to maintain his dignity and prevent me from invading his personal space by presuming to touch him). I realised I had nothing to loose by following him, after all I was already lost. Happily he took me directly to the kennels where I thanked him for his help and we parted company.
I explained my presence to a gentlemen who directed me to a small office all the time expressing his own delight in my dog to be. At the office I was introduced to a lady. I was asked question and I asked questions of my own. I read and signed bits of paper and sat back while they brought Flint out of the kennels. After 9 days I expected he would have forgotten about me. I began to ponder again whether or not I was making a mistake. Things could go terribly wrong once I brought the dog home and I didn't have a back up plan. I had already worked out my finances and potential costs of having yet another animal to keep, I had already predicted the girls attitude towards the new dog. The hardest part was predicting Flint's behaviour around my other animals. As far as I could see I had covered all my bases and worked out all the potential problems. I'd discussed it with Ian, I'd discussed it with my mum. I was sure we had covered all potential problems. The only major problem was whether or not I had put to much assurance on Flint's temprement.
Flint came through the office door. As soon as he saw me his tail started to sway. He put his head on my lap and obviously I stroked him. It was a relief that he remembered me, even more of a relief that he still liked me! He was a pleasure to take him. He pulled a bit on the lead, but nothing like Kichi. He was very well behaved on the train. Kichi and Gyp remembered him, but now he is no longer in pain with a broken jaw he isn't allowed on their sofa. Paddy was at mine when I returned, he made an attempt at a few macho barks, but quickly dropped them in his delight at having another lurcher in the house. Sadly this delight soon became discomfort when Flint tried to mount him. That was something I hadn't thought of! Paddy is neutered, he's also very timid. Unlike Kichi and Gyp who will quickly tell a dog where to go if he tries to shower them with his attention, poor Paddy doesn't quite know what to do except bury his rear end into the sofa! Poor Paddy! I contacted the vets the same day to make an appointment to have Flint neutered in the meantime the girls had to put up with 5 days of him trying to flatter them. Despite this, and the fact that Flint was cocking his leg up against my furniture at every opportunity, I didn't have any regrets. It took 3 days for Flint to learn that cocking his leg up in the house is not a civilised way to behave. I think some of his toileting habits were a combination of territory marking and spending time in the kennels/vets. Paddy left the day after Flint arrived (he had all his worldly belonging packed in a red spotty hankerchief tied to a stick) he claimed he wasn't coming back, but he returned the day before Flint was neutered- apparently my mu's partner had taken their other dog (Cassie) over to Bradford with her for a few days visiting parents and Paddy was getting bored without having anydog to play with. While Paddy had been away Flint had discovered the cats. Or perhaps it was the other way round. The cats immedietly took on the "giant puff ball" pose on site of this invading dog. Flint tried to play with them, but got scratched for his efforts. I didn't like Flint's method of play- he nips far to close to the killing zone and I think he could easily kill a cat accidently if not on purpose. People often think hunting dogs are maliscious animal killers. They aren't. Killing an animal is just a game like fetching a stick. Paddy has be trained to play gently with the cats. Cheddar and Venus don't much like playing with dogs at all, but Cobble doesn't seem to mind a gentle play with Paddy. Paddy pretends to rip Cobble's legs off and Cobble pretends to tear Paddy's eyes out. Sadly I don't trust Flint to play so nicely so he is being discouraged from the cats. Cobble, however, is trying to teach Flint how to play nicely, but even Cobble doesn't trust Flint as much as he does Paddy.
Flint is doing very well. He is so eager to please and he is quickly learning what is acceptable and what is not. He has learned that feeding time is a civilised affair and every dog has his or her own bowl to eat from and there is no need to steal someone elses (unless they have stated quite clearly they have had enough to eat). Because the ratio of dogs out numbers my hands I can only put down 2 food bowls at a time. Gyp & kichi first followed by Flint (and if Paddy is here, him as well). Initially Flint would try to steal Gyp's food, but he has now learned that this isn't necessary. He has also discovered that he can eat his food as slowly as he pleases because nobody is going to try and eat it for him unless he walks away from his dish (by leaving his/her dish the dog is declaring that he/she is full and is inviting somedog to finish off what is left)
Flint has also learned that chasing the cats around the house is not acceptable, and he is allowed to sniff the cats but not nip. He still struggles to control himself if a cat runs past him. His immediate instinct is to run after it. I thought the cats might have decided to leave home by now, but I think they are quite content with having a safety gate at the bottom of the stairs- they can run around upstairs in the knowledge that they are in a dog Flint-free zone with three beds to choose from to lay on (my son's top bunk being the favourite).
I think Flint is settling in really well. He seems to have found his confidence. He has started jumping up to greet me, and at meal times he now turns into a kangaroo! The girls haven't accepted him onto their sofa yet, but Gypsy did allow him onto my bed yesterday morning for a family hug without threatening him. We have had 2 minor scuffles between Flint and Gypsy over human food, but nothing serious.
My bank account is stretched to its limit, but I still don't think Flint is a mistake