The Little Bear Dog Blog

You know you’re getting on a bit when you can get excited about something advertised on the Parish notice board. Our village, being more the ‘nice estate for commuters’ than the duck pond & pub variety really lacks a sense of community which may explain why the village fete is such an occsassion.

The local cricket pitch becomes a mass of people, kids and of course, dogs. There’s the obligatory ferret racing, a brass band and enough cake stalls to give Mr Kipling a run for his money.  Add in a Pimms bar and a beer tent and it all makes for a very pleasant afternoon.  That is of course, unless your dog happens to be the only one barking at everyone who moves in between bouts of pathetic quivering.

Oh yes, Little Bear HATES the village fete.

We have various theories about why this might be the case. The first year he went he rather enjoyed himself. The chap running the hog roast took a shine to him and gave him a nice bit of pork which went down without touching the sides, he met lots of nice dogs and being a very cute pup got cuddles from complete strangers.

But last year was a different story.  Maybe it was the man who rattled the collection bucket a little too loudly as we passed; or the screaming trio of small children playing aeroplanes who came out of nowhere and gave him start, but whatever it was, our little lad was a nervous wreck two minutes after arriving. 

Of course, being a Schnauzer his reaction is to bark.  Thus the peace and tranquility of the fete was soon shattered by our overly vocal little fluff bucket.  In between bouts of barking came the quivering.  I tried to ignore it and jolly him along but it broke my heart.  Distraction and bribery went to hell in the same handbasket as my nerves and we beat a hasty retreat.

Glutton for punishment

Last year’s nightmare aside, I still love the fete.  Maybe it’s the result of watching too many episodes of Midsomer Murders but missing the fete simply isn’t an option. I toyed with the idea of leaving LB at home, but somehow it just didn’t feel right to give up after one bad experience so off we all trotted, my pockets stuffed with treats and squeaky things just in case.  

The first hurdle, man with collection bucket was a breeze. LB was busy sniffing and barely noticed him.  Ha!  This was going to be a breeze I thought smugly.

But then, suddenly realising where he was – he stopped dead in his tracks.  His tail sank and his rear end melted towards the ground – a prelude to the dreaded quivering.

Trying to see it from his perspective I scanned the sea of people stretching out across the field. Banners and flags waved and flapped in the breeze; music blared from a tinny tannoy system; babies cried and children seemed to be running free like wild things. Poor Little Bear – it was a lot to take in.  Seeing your little lad genuinely frightened is horrible. My instinct of course was to scoop him up and go home, but that wouldn’t help him deal with his anxiety in the long run. 

Helpfully, a particularly pretty Cavalier sauntered past us just as I was preparing to jolly him along.  If we’d been in a Loony Toons cartoon is heart would have been jumping three feet out of his chest and his heart-shaped eyes would have been out on stalks!   His goofy advances which amounted to play bows and bum wiggles at super speed were met with a cool and lady-like dismissal. Undeterred, he strained on the lead to follow her as she sashayed into the distance.

His nerves forgotten, to my delight we managed three laps of the fete with little incident.  He growled at an adorable Tibetan Terrier which earned him a ticking off and squealed after me when I left him with Other Half while I went to see the donkey in the petting zoo, but other than that he was incredibly well-behaved and most importantly, seemed pretty chilled once he’d gotten over his initial fear.   

We spotted the couple with the pretty Cavalier as we headed for home.  They were too far ahead of us to catch them up – shame, as I was half tempted to ask if they’d rent her out by the hour!