One dog and a dolphin

Twas the night before the Vet visit

2008-04-14T11:58:00.003+01:00

Poor old Tetley had a large swelling under his right eye on Friday. A quick visit to the vet showed his teeth had just about given up the ghost. So, we now have a visit tomorrow to have some of them removed. Yes I am worried, my little old man under the anaesthetic. So many prayers for him to come through and be my 'gummy bear'. To hug him is like cuddling a teddy bear, so without the teeth....... I can't take credit for that one it was Geoff's turn of phrase.

Little chap Tommy is delightfully noisy (hint of sarcasm), but lovable to the nth degree.

Confusious says "Beware the dog baring loving licks"

2008-02-28T22:34:00.003Z

Only a dog lover can tell you the joy of receiving supposed affection from your dog/s via a good old lick on the chops.
The method I have adopted if I am unable to swiftly dodge the slobbering tongue is, to hold my breath, close my eyes as tightly as I can and hold my breath until I can muster a definite manoeuvre away from the offending pink monster.

Now, not known for my speed and dexterity I am somewhat a sitting target for both Tetley and Tommy's tongues. Tommy has an unfeasibly long tongue for a small dog and can unleash it with frightening speed and accuracy. Tonight, I have experienced something I must now go away and bravely reflect on and, prepare a defensive that will never allow me to be in the same vulnerable position ever again. Tonight I received a most wondrously placed probing and wet tongue not only about my face but also in my right ear. The sound which resonates into your bones is indescribable. That was not the worst of it. That tongue I found out, had only moments before been devouring half of what the cat had left in it's litter tray. The speed at which I launched myself into the bathroom and manically washed would have broken records. I wish to say no more on the matter.

Time fly's when you are enjoying yourself.

2008-02-23T09:21:00.002Z

2 months on, what progression have we made? We do have a revelation, Tetley's hearing isn't as bad as he originally made out. It's more a severe case of selective hearing. Some times he's amazing, hearing a rustle of a food packet in another room. Other times he can't hear you calling him, do you get my drift.
He also has a bit of a dance to do before he goes to bed, you mention 'bed' and Tommy's off like a shot, sitting like a soldier nice and proud in their crate a gleeful look onhis little face, eager to please. Tetley has a more indirect approach, he likes to circle the room a while anticipating you chasing him - early doors I found out that wasn't the way to go as I ended up having more exercise before bed than I had ever done- then after a few plea's to his better nature he occassionally offers a few teasing false starts, moving purposefully towards the crate then at the last minute swerving to oneside expertly diverting to yet again circumnavigate the living room. He may decide to toy with you further buy passing elegantly by your leg and then darting away. All in all it can be a challenging experience to a poor, tired doggy Mum or Dad. experience has now taught me the knack of adding a few expletives after bed and looking sternly at him, this seems to work.

The raw food diet died a death. Lots of good intentions on our behalf. A unified protest of "starvation until you give in" resulted. Yes, of course we caved in! have you seen how pitiful a Heeler can look at you?

The no getting on the couch also seems like a dim and distant practice - because it is. Geoff caved first, shortly followed by me. In fact I was just about to let the "awww let them come up out of my mouth when Geoff got there before me. There is nothing beter than relaxing after a sod of a day than slouching on the the sofa with a Heeler by your side, or on your knee, or laying across your belly, licking your face. AAAhhhh bliss.

And so this is Christmas

2007-12-31T19:13:00.000Z

And so this is Christmas......
our first Christmas as a family. What happened? Tetley could feast on his favourite passion - inspecting the contents of shopping bags. Never has so much excitement been experienced by a dog as to the possibilities of the contents of a carrier bag. Not a gentle nosing for Tetley. A full blown diving head first into the mysteries of the bulging bag. The contents of their advent calender was also a scene for the eye, excitement, slavering and then the spitting from Tommy - a fussy eater if ever there was one- and the quick sniff, gulp and it's gone from Tetley. He is one mighty dustbin that dog. Nothing that can go down a dogs gullet is left untouched. His mission is to devour the world one slurp at a time.

Poor old Tommy has been suffering from a tummy bug for the past 3 days. Vomiting of lunch followed by much more vomiting of stuff that came from whence I do not know. Day two, more vomiting of gallons of water and the occasional burp in between. Hours of laying on the sofa looking sorry for himself, not even rising to follow me around like a bad MI5 agent, which is his normal occupation/pass time.
Day three - today- and we have a refusal to eat his breakfast tooth cleaning chew and then storing it behind the sofa in his den, growling when Tetley wanders into the 'den zone' to check out if there's a left over bone or two to pinch off him. This performance ceased when I caused a distraction of a fresh bowl of drinking water for him, and then dashing behind the sofa to retrieve the chew. Back to Dog, Dolphin and husband joining me for cuddles on the afore mentioned sofa. Bliss.

Christmas was good, and now the New Year is hovering over us. I did have a few tears the other day as I realised I would leave Chester firmly in the past. Him dying 'last year' seams like he has been gone a long time, not just a few months ago. Each month sees him being further and further away, and I don't like it. The New year does encourage me to feel the aniticipation of new experiences, new friends and also understanding life a little less. As you grow older you just become more aware of the things you don't kow, unlike our youth when you know you know everything there is to discover. Ahh the joy of growing older... life really does get better as time moves on.
Happy New Year.

2 weeks after the training

2007-11-05T15:27:00.000Z

So how did we fair over the past 2 weeks?

I am horse through "barghing", but it works. No peeing, people can enter with out being hijacked and pounced upon. though They are now disturbed by me charging about shouting "bargh" and chucking a chain on a piece of string about. Understandable really.
The boys now sleep in a crate in the living room all tucked away safe and sound. They occupy this at night to sleep and if I go out anywhere. The theory behind this is that they feel insecure in a large space as it is allot to guard for a small dog, so by cutting the space down to a manageable size they can cope and relax. It works.I was set against these crates, they look awful, I don't like caging animals at all, but if it would find some peace for Tommy and Tetley I was going to try it. If I leave them out of it Tommy starts to pee everywhere again so, it shows he pees as a result of stress as 'Lady' suggested. They don't like to go in it though, I have to round them up and Tetely can pick up some real speed in darting away from me, and Tommy dashes behind the sofa to his safe place, I retrieve him by lassoing him with his lead and coaxing him into the crate. Treats suitably placed are not an encouragement for them, even for the forever hungry Tetley. So gentle encouragement is the key.

Geoff took up the water bomb challenge yesterday. He waited with baited breath upstairs, I went shopping. I came home to the boys still outside Geoff fast asleep on the bed. Must have worked a treat I thought? Geoff woke to say he thought I'd been home ages as he heard me "barghing" at the boys. I had to confess it wasn't me and the mystery was solved when a neighbour said how the "Barghing" hadn't worked for her in the afternoon. So thank you to Sue for trying to train them not to bark in the garden, and shame on you Geoff for leaving your post.

Sleeping is a joy. now I am back to struggling for space with just Geoff and not Geoff and Tommy. No dog hairs on and in the bed for me to get an itchy nose and anything else with and, no wet nose to have to swerve my tush away from several-teen times a night. Bliss.

All in all a recommended experience and would not hesitate to advise anyone to get in someone who knows what they are doing. Even if it is costly, the option isn't worth considering. Tommy would have no chance having bitten twice and his growling etc. as well as the peeing would not make him first choice for any adoptee. He is incredibly loving too, he's just nervous and not a natural leader.

Saying that, I did have awobble this week, when I wasn't feeling too well, I left them to wander the house whilst I slept in bed on morning. I got up to a tide of pee everywhere. Doors, windows, cat litter tray, water bowl yo name it he had marked it. At that point I did mention it had all got too much and he had to go. Geoff's sorry little face said it all along with his heart felt plea " I don't want to let him go". In truth neither do I. He can't be held responsible for his leaders not leading him.I returned to him with more love and understanding. We also decided that as he retreats to a space behind the sofa when he's stressed we ought to make it comfortable for him. So I go him a new little throw for him to lay on and he has now got a little retreat away from the world when he needs it. He always has his little yellow american football with him too, and last night a stolen lump of garlic bread. I know we should encourage him to use the crate but he has allocated his own safe place and We think that should be respected.
I also made the embarrassing purchase of a t-shirt for him. It's a blue polo shirt, with white trim. as butch as I could buy. Why? I saw on TV someone say if you have a nervous dog try a tight fitting t-shirt either a doggy one or something you can make yourself. Off the pets at home I went and was joyous to find the aforementioned t-shirt on a sale at £2.99. I did think I would struggle to get it on him - no way, he loves it! No problem getting it on, but he was mad as heck with me for trying to take it off him. He growled and held onto it with his little teeth gripping for dear life. I did show I was his Pack leader and got it removed to a sulking little man who looked embarrassed like he wanted to try and cover his nipples - if he should have any. Bless him. He looked uncannily like Phil Mitchel from Eastenders, all rippling muscles and big neck. This weekend - the weekend before bonfire night and lots of early fireworks - saw Tommy contented on his little rug, behind the sofa, american football and garlic bread beside him and his lovely new t-shirt on. What bliss.

Tetley, due to his deafness amongst other things is happily in his own world, content to the high teeth and trotting merrily around the house wagging his tail. A s long as he can scratch his bum on your foot every now and then and you feed him he has all he seems to want. Oh man of simple means.

The Training!

2007-11-05T15:05:00.000Z

So Saturday arrives and with eager anticipation we await the arrival of our saviour.
A slight and very lovely lady turns up with briefcase in hand and we are off!
With a cuppa to ease the brain I tell all. The peeing, the barking and oh yes the biting. All is noted and we begin the imitative. I am taught the new command "Bargh", strong and firm in delivery it will stop all bad behaviour. I practice and lady is impressed by my volume and conviction. I am proud for once that I have a big gob.

Then the chain on a string - to be flung at the same time I deliver my "bargh" to attract attention and to assert my authority. A few attempts at delivering both together - tricky for a novice like me- and we attempt to open the door on the offending beasts who are ensconced in the living room. I "bargh" and throw the chain to the floor at the bottom of the door to get them to move away from the door making a clear entry space for me. 'Lady' opens the door and I begin "barghing" and chucking my chain in organised chaos with the desired effect. Well nearly Tommy has retreated to the safe spot behind the sofa and Tetley is looking at me as if to question my sanity. I understand where he is coming from. Stunned silence is what follows from my little fellows and it all seams peaceful and quiet - a taste of things to come?

Well stage one is good and the blighters are now waiting for me to go through doors before them and aware that me - or the chain- are their master/mistress. The next offensive is the walking on the lead without pulling my arm off. So both on the training leads she offers us and I'm up and down the path like a little soldier under her instruction dropping the leads and turning on a sixpence. Now this can make the best of us dizzy but if I mentioned I have suffered from vertigo for several years, which has on many occasions left me sprawled on the floor from an imaginary whirlwind that has taken me yo may understand how I got quite confused. Dropping leads and turning 'willy nilly', Lady getting a little exasperated with me though covering it reasonably well. Well the confusion seemed to work anyway as Tommy was soon eyes glued to me trying to figure out where I may go next, lead relaxed and no pulling. The truth was I didn't know where I was by this stage let alone where I may be going. All in a days training eh!

The good bit I enjoyed with relish was the water bomb session. To stop the little boys from barking constantly in the garden we had to stand at the bedroom window overlooking the garden, water bombs in hand - water filled nappy bags- and when they barked I "barghd" and threw a bag out of the window. SMASHING! oh the joy of doing that is to be experienced. 2 bags gone and silence? What the flippin' eck! my first bit of fun for ages and stopped by obedient dogs, what a dilemma. So husband Geoff is given orders to make as much noise as he can in the pathway outside the garden to incite a riot in the garden. Bags in hand banging and clattering outside and silence in the garden. Now 2 women stood waiting for something to happen is a recipe for gossip and idle chit chat, which we engaged in for around 5-10 minutes until we were brought out of it by a forgotten voice shouting "it doesn't seem to be working". OOps forgot about Geoff out there. So we invited him in to the house and left that exercise as to be continued when they do decide to bark again - homework.
Now 2 hours have passed the dogs are bewildered into silence, I am holding a throbbing headache and a problem with being able to stand up without feeling dizzy from all my tooing and froing with the leads. 'Lady' says "well, I think that's enough for today", we sign a form to say we will be under her command for 12 months for a fee and we wave her off before collapsing on the sofa. Now for the good bit, keeping it up and disciplining ourselves.
First hurdle, Geoff. Who doesn't like the idea of them not coming onto the sofa for a cuddle. Bugger, we compromise that when they are good and understand clearly who's boss we can invite them at our behest and discourage them from coming on their with us uninvited.

It all seems too easy, but we shall see.

The weeks tick by

2007-10-28T20:02:00.000Z

Week one turned into week two, week two turned to week three. Tommy continued to sneak his way onto the bed, whilst Tetley slept undisturbed through the night. The patter of little feet woke me several times every night and I responded by getting up and wandering in my 'jarmas' to let them (mainly Tommy, to have a wee). Surely to goodness this would stop when they settled? The 'buttock to nose' game had gradually been forgotten and been replaced by how quickly can I get the quilt of her and get the afore mentioned buttocks cold. This game Tommy was especially good at and I decided to sleep with a shawl that I could drape over my chilled area during the night if I didn't manage to nudge him off the bed. He has a grip like a limpet, and can play dead better than the best of them. So, getting the quilt back was not an easy option.

During the day time tides of dog pee found itself on and around anything you could possibly think of. A chair in the room was a favourite, fortunately it was a leather cloth thing so me washing it down constantly with biological washing powder was a chore but a necesary one (as recommended by a book I sat and read one Sunday in 'Pets at home'. One of several I managed to gleen information from without having to purchase. The floor wasn't very comfortable though and the queue for the till ran by me so the occasional kick of a snail line of pet lovers boots would occasionally catch me unawares, but a small price for the knowledge I managed to amass that afternoon).

I used the money I saved from not buying the books on some drops that would ease the most frayed nerves on any dog I was told, some dental chews - shocking breath one of them had- a pet behaviour spray that stops tehm peeing everywhere - oh yeh!!! does it eck!, and I managed to treat myself to a free packet or two of dog food on a promotional stand. A bargain hunter extraordinaire!

A new thing had appeared. Every time I moved they barked. Not threatening nor did they scare me. I was puzzled why and wandered between the thoughts of that they had been abandoned if you wish, that this was a big change and they didn't want me to disappear as well or, they were communicating they wanted food, water, a wee, a walk or anything, but nothing fitted. The bags of coins worked well until the fifth week and it all went Pete Tong. In a BIG WAY. Hysterical barking when anyone came to the door called us to engage in herding them into the living room, so they couldn't get to who was at the door. They would continue to bark but whoever was shivering in their boots would feel reasonably safe that they were behind a door or two away from them. Then when Number three son came to stay one weekend, Postie knocked on the door, number three son with sleep and other strange stuff he had accumulated over the weeks since we last saw him answered the door and out popped Tommy. Well, popped sounds like it was a slight ooops, her he comes. Apparently he launched himself mid air and attached himself via a flaring pair of teeth to the pooor fellows calf muscle. I was working in the summer house in the back garden and heard some commotion on the pathway but didn't realise what it was until I returned an hour later. "The dog's bit the postman" I was greeted with, sent shivers of horror down my body. I can cope with most things but biting is an end to a relationship as far as I was concerned. We had been searching for a animal behaviourist to come and offer support for a couple of weeks but had been given such comments as "oh they are too old to change their behaviour now" to "try shouting and slapping them". Well apart from never having or wanting to do this to my previous dog, I had read enough books and web sites by now to know that wasn't the way to go, and surely we can teach old dogs new tricks?
The search for a dog behaviourist hotted up as I was on the brink of 'phoning Edith to say Tommy's coming back to you. I couldn't deal with biting, it was a step too far. Three days later a friend called to bring me a present for my birthday, in exchange Tommy bit her son in the same place as the postie. That was it, I was distraught. He had to go. Geoff came home from work to the news that Tommy had bitten again we both resigned ourselves to the fact we were not equipped to deal with him. Was this why his owners had decided to give them up? We had long discovered the long walks they would have had were a myth as in the first week of taking them for a walk neither dog had energy to take them more than a short walk from the house. Up hill was taking their breath and running was a dim and distant memory for both of them. The poor coat Tetley arrived with took just a week to clear, yet a bald patch on his tail - the story given was that it was a bad case of flees also became suspect as the tail actually looked damaged underneath and the hair hasn't grown back still to this day. Since day one with them they had both flinched if either of us went to stroke them, not just nervousness at us being strangers, but something else was underneath it we felt. Tommy could crawl on his belly like snake if anyone raised their voices a sight that made us both feel sick to the stomach. We had never seem a dog cower in this way before.
One night whilst stroking his chest Geoff asked me what I thought of the bump he had found on one of Tommy's ribs. As a therapist I know what ribs should feel like - I work on them several times a day, I also knew what a fractured bone felt like and found one on the other side as well.
Sickened and saddened by what may have happened in their past we endeavoured to make their new home as peaceful as we could.
The biting was something else though, and I struggled to see who we could hold onto him knowing he had attacked twice in one week. Tetley was settling in superbly, no nervousness, sleeping like a log all night, no peeing every where, his barking was less and less. When we walked him instead of sitting on the grass looking exhausted and not wanting to move, he had a occasional bursts of running, his tail wagging behind him, positively enjoying his time. Tommy was growling more and more at seemingly nothing, grumbling and making the strange dolphin noises looking worried constantly.

I had to be strong,it was no good feeling sorry for him we couldn't let this go by and not act. I reluctantly went to the 'phone to call Edith, when it rang. It was one of the behaviourist people I had emailed. I explained the reason we wanted to see someone was because Tommy was obviously not settling well and we wanted to know what we were doing wrong and how to help him. I also mentioned unfortunately, I thought it was too late has he had bitten someone. The voice at the other end of the 'phone took charge of me and said they were used to dealing with similar situations and that the biting was something they could work with. I was sceptical but was also afraid that Tommy's options were limited, who would want to house a dog that 2 homes had given him up and one was for attacking people. His fate seemed to be a dark one.

We were mildly encouraged by the lady's claims to help us, but I couldn't allow myself feel false hope. We were fastidious in keeping him away from people who called at the house. I apologised profusely to the postman who said he hadn't reported us as he knew how we were ordinarily with our dogs and that he was sure it was our son who hadn't followed our usual procedures that had caused the situation. I breathed a temporary sigh of relief and acknowledged the narrow escape Tommy had already had.

Outside he was a different dog. He could walk past people and other dogs and completely ignore them, he wasn't bothered at all, nor was he aggressive. We waited for Saturday to arrive and our training session was to begin.

The very first night

2007-10-28T18:42:00.000Z

So home, quick walk to relieve themselves, home, bath and food. Both enjoyed the bathing, think the dogs did too? We had called off in Glossop to buy a dog bed - 1 large cushion which would hopefully accommodate both of them- dog food, low protein as advised by the shop owner -and a couple of chewy things.
"Ahhh" we both kept exclaiming at our new charges. Bliss was here in the package of two small animals. So as evening fell we began to think about what we should do about sleeping arrangements? well we knew we had a bed and Chester usually slept on his cushion next to the bed, my side. Why break the habit of a lifetime, so upstairs with cushion and two dogs we go as excited as if we were kids having a sleep over.

Lights off, silence and off to sleep we go. Well, nearly. In the twilight between sleep and wakefulness, in that magical space that is calling you to a deep sleep, something was slithering down my back under the sheets? A slight gasp and Geoff's voice whispering "what's that?". I nervously nipped my buttocks too tired to offer any stronger defence to the inevitable and there it goes. If I hadn't nervously anticipated it I would have been unsure it happened. As quick as it had arrived the swift nudge of a small wet nose around the very narrow crack of my bum, one barely noticeable but effective flick of the hips and it was gone, chastised out of the delicate area known as Mrs Burgess's buttocks. The snuffling object continued it's journey under the quilt finally easing itself down onto the floor at the foot of the bed away as quickly as it arrived. A narrow escape, but the whole episode had left me feeling vulnerable and concerned that this was only the start of something I couldn't handle. Over the years I had managed to master the skill of being able to keep myself, whatever the situation, in that warm twilight that promised sleep, that, won the day for me as I, with a slightly amused but worried smile on my face, continued the journey into my dreams. Note to self, check out which one has the smallest nose.

In the morning I recalled how I awoke to find the same dog's face peering at me, eyes open in the glow of dawn. Hello to Tommy. Another time how when I realised I was challenged for space on opening my eyes the he was again this time fast asleep and snoring, on his back paws spread out in gay abandon, signalling the universal language for "I've landed on my feet, big time here".
Then the time when my feet were strangely hot and clammy, from the small furry Tommy laid under the quilt over my feet. The moment when I couldn't move my head on the pillow, not a stroke that had crept up on me in the night as I originally feared but Tommy laying across the pillow on my hair, pinning me to the spot unable to move without ripping a clump of hair from my now tired and throbbing head. There were more positions to come over the hours, some mildly amusing, some painful and more just downright blatant cheek. Oh, the occasional loud salacious, slurping of Mr Tommy licking his bits and bobs as only a dog could, often gently woke me and then lulled me back to sleep, along with the fierce determination and superdoggy strength he employed to lock his head in position, preventing me shift his jaw using both hands to was startling. It was obviously something I would need to look correcting at in the morning.

Overall a strange night, but one not filled with barking and howling as I had anticipated.
The new dawn heralded the first day with my boys and a wonderment of what could the day bring for us to share together?

Off for a walk, happy dogs, happy me. Off the lead fantastic, Tommy's recall was faultless. Tetley had a sound technique for walking in a rhythmical fashion, not slowing, not speeding up but a steely determination and mission second to nothing, including a Scud missile. Straight forward, unwavering line, one speed - faster than my walk, almost a trot for me. The sight of me hunched over trying to grasp his collar, hobbling sideways and trying to catch his attention whilst shouting his name was a picture I only truly captured after replaying the scene in my mind over a cup of coffee safe at home. Not cute, attractive or graceful. But then I am not sure when I manage that anyway? The final lunge where he is captured, and I am left puzzled why he is puzzled?

Day two, after a replay of the first night, more positions than the karmasutra and most of them interspersed by the afore mentioned slurping and licking, left me beginning to feel like I was an intruder in my own bed and, Shakira would envy my more than regular 'hip flick'. His determination to sniff was only matched by my terror of him reaching his goal. I had mastered the tight nip of the buttocks and sharp flick of the hips, necessary to asway his probing wet and flaring nostrils. I thought it was becoming a little unhealthy in the way I was starting to take delight in my ability to do this slight, but effective move. An intriguing game of cat and mouse was a foot.

I noticed that when Tommy barked the space in between was occupied by Tetley's bark. As Tommy barked again, Tetley watched to see if he should carry on. The noise sounded like two little cars each with an old fashioned horn, one slightly higher pitched than the other, which were calling to one another in some secret code? This continued most of the day. By six o'clock in the evening, slightly wobbly, my balance being affected by the continuous shrill call of the mating car horns, finally damaging my inner ear. Doing the recommended 'turn your back on them and ignore the barking, it will soon stop' technique burned in my memory as a successful and suitable method employed by the best dog trainer did not work. It left me stood in the house or garden with my arms crossed like a petulant teenager for hours on end, barking never abating for one second. Exhausted by the noise and prolonged periods of standing with my back to them, I decided that I would try just once shouting "shut up". Still the chorus. I rmnembered a programme on TV where a small bag of coins was thrown to the ground, the shattering noise stopped the barking hounds in their tracks. I rummaged in my cupboard to find some small string bacgs that I should put the washing powder tabs in but could never be bothered. Astounded at my ingenuity I filled several with the loose change we collected in a nice plastic bag. One bark the coins hit the floor with a satisfying clatter. Silence. Oh the joy of it. I had fnally cracked it. I planted coin bags all over the house, anywhere they could break into the parping, shrill noise of their barking.

Out walking the same thing happened as the previous day, Tommy was good at recall, Tetley off on his own mission, followed by me hunched over, galloping sideways, wavering leash in one had, the tips of my fingers occasionally managing to catch a touch of the rough short haired coat that hid the 'D' ring of his collar that I desperately needed to ensnare. After walking up to him in the garden from behind, stroking him and making him jump out of his furry little skin I began to wonder if he wasn't deaf? Loud clapping, whistling and bellowing showed no response at all. Not even the rustle of a crisp packet could entice him. No wonder he wouldn't answer to his name. The poor old fellow was deaf, surely?

The Homecoming!

2007-10-28T14:41:00.000Z

Up we got on the Sunday, excited and ready for the adoption.
A steady drive to the meeting point - Enid's house. On arriving we passed a blue car with a lady in it, was it their mum? She didn't look like she'd been crying, maybe she was just putting on a brave face?

Out of the car and the sound of barking - oh exciting!

Enid opens the gate and...there's my boys! Two little black and tan dogs, barking and peeing.

Into the house for a cuppa and an introduction. Enid had hoped to have them for a couple of hours before we arrived but dogs ex-parents arrived later than hoped and we, keen as ever arrived just before we said we would. Geoff and I share an eagerness, impatience in short we are easily excitable - Keep this sentence in mind as you will see what a good match we, and the boys are).

Well, Enid is upset as Tetley looks in a sorry state. His fur was tatty, he had paint scraped across his back - so he may like decorating? His sad little face had huge tear marks down from his eyes.
My heart flew out of my chest and settled like a falling feather in a breathless flutter onto the two little men in front of me and, the sound of broken my heart was virtually audible, recognising some fresh green shoots and hope of life again.

Tommy, had an incredible capacity in his bladder for peeing intermittently - virtually every 3 seconds when outside, excited I thought just like us! Inside he was giddy and in good spirits, obviously oblivious to the fact he was going to start a new adventure.

Apologies came from Enid re: Tetleys condition, we tried to ease her worried by promising a good bath and some TLC when we got them home. On checking their little bag packed with their belongings we found a tatty blanket, 2 lilac dog food bowls, a metal water dish, packet of dog poo bags, a dozen chew sticks and neatly squashed into a plastic carrier bag. What a dowry.
We were sad that the familiar things we had hoped they would bring would help them ease into the new life were absent, instead the lack of them made us wonder what else they hadn't had.
No list of "please make sure they get... or, hug them every night from us.... kind of stuff left us in the dark as to where to begin with them. Oh well, at least we knew they needed a bath.

After signing the adoption papers and taking the first faltering, wary steps of getting into the car, the homeward journey saw Tommy and Tetley sat with me in the back like it was a regular journey they took. Lots of looking out of the window for Tommy, enjoying the wind blowing up his nose making him sneeze, the strong aroma of unwashed dog and the possibility that this could be the start of an exciting new love affair.

Eager and waiting

2007-10-28T14:26:00.000Z

So, there we were, eagerly awaiting our new family. What did we know about them?

Tetley - older dog, age 14. Lovely dog, pleasant nature, won't be a problem.
Tommy - age 6. No idea what he is like should be ok. as Tetley will have sorted him out being the older dog.
When I asked will they be ok with our cat the reply was, no problem if he has a strong character. Should be no problem there then as Tigger rules the house and all who should dare to enter. No different to any other cat then!
They lived at the coast, so liked long walks on the beach and in the sea every day. Should be ok fitting into Sheffield then a large city centre! They could miss the sea? but we can take them to the nearest man made wet area, Rother Valley Country Park. Maybe we could fool them as they are only small dogs so, anything would seem to be vast surely?
Tetley is 14, the age Heelers usually live to, but all that sea air will have kept him in fine fettle.

Being eager to make their transition into our home as smooth as possible we asked for their already mum and dad could send all their toys, their bedding and a list of what they like, dislike, usual routines and anything else they think would be of use to us. Smashing! All ready and well prepared as I had read a paperback about training dogs and I have it off pat. Let them know you're the pack leader, eat before they do, walk into rooms etc. before they do all the usual stuff. So apart from feeling inadequate about providing stunning views and walking terrain for them we were ready!

The beginning

2007-10-28T10:55:00.000Z

It's exactly seven weeks ago now since they arrived. The dog and the dolphin. They're both dogs but one makes a noise like a dolphin.
Maybe that's why we have had to pay for an animal behaviourist to visit? We can do the dog bit but talking to the dolphin has been difficult to say the least. It only cost us £265.00 to learn how to let him know we weren't happy with his 'little ways'. Peeing on anything that was vertical next to him, barking every time I moved and 'ferreting' down the quilt between me and Geoff in the middle of the night. Well Geoff's 50 and me at 47, married for 10 years, not a lot of ferreting goes on now in that department and, for a small furry creature with a face like a ferret, a wet nose that can penetrate any orifice faster than a samurai's sword and accompanied by an unfeasibly long tongue for a small dog this was all too much.

Last Saturday we parted with £265.00 to learn to say "Barghhh". Sounds like a bark eh? Yep, that's the idea you bark back like a cross dog and....... no barking, no peeing, no wet nose and tongue in your 'bits' oh, and no biting the postman - I forgot about that.

So, how did they get to us? Simple version - via the Lancashire Heeler's Dog Owners Club.

Longer version - Chester, my good friend died on Saturday 4th August this year. An 11 year love affair with a beautiful cross collie and springer. An excellent combination for a dog. The story of Chester is one on it's own, suffice to say I won't enter into it here -it's still too hard to talk about it. My grieving is fresh and new and raw. Watching me sobbing into Chester's photo clutching his ashes and rocking inconsolabley one night, Geoff suggested we invite some other furry animal to ease my pain.

One week later after a visit to a park where I watched other doggie people walking their little companions and an inpromptu visit to the RSPCA dog shelter on the way home and I was sold. The joy of smelling 'dog' on my hand was too much, I needed a dog, I wanted a dog , I yearned for a dog.
I came home excited and broody - Geoff went into action. Straight onto the internet to look at a Lancashire Heeler. My heart was gone. I suggested two would be nice, company for one another when we were out, a ready made pack.

The next morning Geoff went off to work leaving me a message, "'phone Enid and ask about a dog". Enid's contact details were on the Lancashire Heelers site. She was responsible for rehoming the breed. Finances wouldn't allow us to be able to buy one dog let alone two, I didn't want a puppy - too many puppies/dogs out there wanting a home already - so it was a mature ready made family I was after.

Enid answered the phone a quick conversation: Me - "Have you any dog's that need rehoming?"
Enid - "Yes, but we have two that need to go together"
Me - "Oh, good we want two"
Enid, Suprised - "Oh, lovely!"
The conversation went on along the lines of "what experience do you have with dog's , what do you know about Heelers, will they be left alone all day etc.
We seemed to pass that stage of the adoption process pretty well. Fingers crossed for an OK from their then owners, who were emigrating to South Africa.
All in all we got through all the rounds that we needed to and arranged to pick the 'lovelies' up the following Sunday.