Impossible to resist, the apparently gravity-defying Lady
“Paw, Lady!”
My 3 year-old
Collie-Lab obligingly lifts her paw so that I can slip on her harness. Standing
with her face pressed against the back door, she’s fizzing like a dropped
bottle of Coke about the prospect of the walk.
Nevertheless she
knows to do the dance, the little do-si-do where I close the kitchen door, she
moves backwards so that I can open the back door and then she waits. All
eternity must pass before that over-eager dog’s eyes as she waits for to me to
say
“Come!”
My knee is
strapped tight into a velcro brace, my foot isn’t hurting too badly and as we
step out, my heart bounces like a bunny. Warm sunshine,
lush green grass laden with dew and I’m out for a Spring ramble with my dog.
Well, hmmm, no,
not really. I’d love nothing better than to take half a day and ramble at will
across bog, down bohreen and green road, but I need to manage the pain in my
joints by being sensible.
Was there ever
such a boring notion as ‘sensible’?
As we turn the
corner of the house and face the front gate, three of Lady’s doggy friends
arrive. The young collie is on heat, her bits hanging out like a raspberry milk
jelly and the randy brown terrier is jumping up on her, humping her leg, her
head, anything he can reach.
Considering his
legs are no higher than a matchbox, he does very well. Evidently he’s been
successful elsewhere, as a litter of minuscule versions of himself and what
looks like a Jack Russell mum appeared the other day at the top of the bohreen.
Nothing will stop his drive to continue his line. Last June the Snapper and I
sat and watched him try to mate with a semi-deflated football in our back
garden. The adorable little dog went hammer and tongs at it for hours, only
stopping when I removed the ball, deciding that the universe offered more
beautiful things to watch on a Summer’s afternoon than a scarlet extended
canine sausage.
Lady is overjoyed
to see her pals and at this stage so am I, as I know she’ll exhaust herself
playing with the Collie. She’s only 3 years old and I worry my damaged legs
can’t give her the exercise she needs.
Lady and the
Collie tumble each other over and over, growling roaring and pretend biting.
Utterly undeterred by the arrival of another beast ten times his size, the
rusty randy little Terrier gets stuck into the melée too, grabbing his front
paws on any Collie parts he can, while revving up to do what dogs do.
When I set off up
the bohreen, the Collie and Terrier decide to come too, and so it begins.
Nearly all the many dogs that live around here run loose, but Lady is on a
lead. She’s a rescue dog who has a bit of record with ducks, pheasants and
whatever takes her fancy. My heart breaks that she can’t run with the others,
just as my joints are breaking at having to walk her on a lead, but that’s the
way it goes.
So now she’s not
just pulling but straining on her lead, desperate to catch up with her mates.
The one thing the doctor told me I shouldn’t do is allow myself to be pulled
along by a dog, as the impact on my foot and knee will cause pain. Thanks Doc. Where
are you now?
The Terrier and
the Collie inadvertently torment Lady as they dive in and out of the hedges and
stone walls. She whimpers and stands on two legs as she watches them race
across the fields. My sorrow knows no bounds. Every part of me wants to unclip
her and say
“Go on girl!
Enjoy!”
If I did, I’m sure
she’d return to me, or home eventually, but my working day would disappear
while I waited for her, and when she came back she’d be covered in half a
continent of muck that would take ages to clean off.
So we persevere:
Lady straining so hard she’s almost only walking on her hind legs; me trying
not to stomp my feet down hard, as I use considerable arm strength to restrain
her.
Not so much a
Spring ramble as a mad dog dash!
Still I insist on
taking a few moments of pure pleasure from simply being here. I give thanks
that I live in such a beautiful place, enjoying each morning a walk that
encompasses bogland, pasture, hedgerows, trees, and distant russet roofs of
ancient barns.
Fortunately, Lady
hasn’t the quickest eyes in the world. Both the Snapper and myself have seen
the most massive rabbits leap from the hedgerows on our walks. They are
enormous, yet Lady only recognises their presence by smell, when we walk across
the land they leapt over.
If rabbits are not
her passion then hares are as nectar to her. Last week she suddenly went
completely mental on our walk, straining and jumping with a crazed urgency I’d
never seen before. Then, a good 300 metres off, we both saw the hare.
Don’t know what
they feed the wildlife in these parts but none of it seems stunted in growth!
Even taking into account the distance, this hare appeared the size of donkey
foal, bounding in a haphazard and casual fashion across the bog.
That morning, as
now, I found myself with an overexcited dog on my hands. All the way up the
bog road and all the way back, Lady strains and pulls to catch up with her
pals. By the time we return home my knee is sloshing around like a bag of
liquid, detached from my leg completely.
On the plus-side,
the dog is utterly knackered. Collapsed on the kitchen floor with her tongue
lolling out, she won't need attention for hours.
Lovely! Off to
work, to scribble of Spring rambles...
14.04.14
©Charlie Adley
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