Monday 4 October 2010

Happy Gotcha Day, Bucket Arse.







It was about 18 months after our German Shepherd died, aged 14, that we started thinking about getting another dog.
Catherine had seen a Spinone in the next village, that belonged to the gamekeeper, and after reading about the breed, we all decided a brown roan dog puppy, would fit in perfectly with our family.
Long story cut short, an 11 month old orange roan bitch needed a new home. Pie arrived, five years ago today. She was one of the most pathetic things I'd ever seen. Thin, and scared, with eyes like saucers, the rubbish picture is the only one I have of her the day she turned up, and for whatever reason, it doesn't get any bigger....maybe just as well.
It took no time to get weight on her, but over six months before she stopped running upstairs to hide under the desk in my bedroom when anyone called in, and probably a year before we started to see the real Pie. She flinched if we moved too fast, she'd pee herself at loud noises, she'd shake and drool at what seemed the smallest upsets, and she'd cower if men wearing hats stopped to talk to her.
She was an only dog until we got Dooza, but from the day he came home, Pie's confidence grew. He ran her ragged, and she adored him. Pie encouraged him to swim, and Dooza showed Pie how to dig. She showed him how to open the fridge, and he showed her how to steal from the top shelf. She showed him where the loo rolls were, and he showed her how to eat them. Wherever one was, the other wasn't far behind. When Dooza first got sick, he was at home on a drip. She would lie as close as she could, without actually touching him. I think she needed to be near him, as much as he needed to know she was there.
The day he died, it was Pie who came and told me that he was in trouble, and although we brought his body home from the vets, so she could spend time with him, and understand what had happened, she still sat for days looking out of the bedroom window. I think, like us, she hoped it had all been a bad dream, and if she waited long enough, her boy would come home.
Since loosing Dooza, Pie's life has changed again, with the arrival of Madge in March, and Ted in May. I think for the first time, Pie is truly happy (although not today because she's cut her foot, and isn't impressed to be wearing a drip bag as a welly boot to keep it dry....drip bags are soooooo last year darling) She and Madge are the very best of friends. They seem to instinctively know when the other needs reassurance, they sleep together, eat together, play together, tease the boy unmercifully, get up to mischief, and always nudge each others faces when they've been apart for a while.
Pie adores Ted, and whilst it's always Madge he goes to when he wants his face washed, or his ears cleaned, it's Pie he nags when he wants to play. It's Pie who shows him where the pheasants are, and how to get the rabbits out of the hedges, it was Pie who showed him it was safe to jump off the bank into the river. Pie has a purpose. She has her very own canine family, who seem to think she's as great as I do, and she's thriving.
I love you Bucket Arse.xxx x

1 comment:

  1. Happy gotcha day, Pie! It sounds like you have the most wonderful loving family to us! We hope you get a treat and lots of hugs on your very special day!

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