The Little Bear Dog Blog

To this day I have no idea how her collar broke . One minute I was guiding her from the car park to the field, the next she was panicking, writhing around at the end of her lead, eyes wide, tail tucked, scanning the strange surroundings like a cornered fugitive – heart thumping I forced myself to try to stay calm, I crouched down, avoided eye contact, spoke softly, moved slowly but it was futile – seconds later the lead, with collar, snapped open and still attached was hanging limp in my hand.

She headed first for the car park and the locked car. I cursed myself for not getting the keys from OH before he left – maybe if I could have opened the door she might have chosen to hide instead of run.  Before I could get near her she whipped past me and took off up the path beside the field running at full speed.

A man appeared at the end walking his dog – now frantic I screamed for him to try to stop her before she got to the end of the path and the road. It took him a few precious seconds to comprehend what was happening and in that time the moment was lost – she was past him and out onto the road.

By some miracle she avoided the cars on the roundabout. Yes, we’re technically a village but a busy one.  By the time I caught up seconds later she’d turned left – cars were stopped both sides of the road and people were scrambling out of them, trying admirably to catch her.  Seeing her lose control of her bowels in the middle of the road was horrendous – I’ve never seen a dog look so terrified in my life.  More people streamed out of the nearby running field, another popular haunt for dog walkers, but she turned, retraced her steps and continued her sprint down the main road.

I took off after her and cursed myself for letting a dodgy knee stop my running training. She was already out of sight and my desperation was escalating to all out panic.

As I ran a car pulled up level to me and a man shouted ‘Get in!’ Without a moment’s hesitation I did and found myself tucked next to a sleeping newborn baby in a car seat and saying hurried hellos to his wife in the front seat. Mick (my good Samaritan) dropped me at the copse at the end of the road and promised to drive around looking for her.

All I could think about was how terrified and how far from home she was. It was all my fault. I’d promised her safety and love and minutes later, here she was lost and alone. A wave of nausea hit me that would stay with me for the next 44 hours.

The kindness of strangers

I called the police and the dog warden, I made all of the reports necessary and we searched every lane, field and bridleway. At around 9pm I got a call to say she’d been spotted at a horse yard about two miles from where she went missing. We dashed over there only to find the field full of complete strangers. Mick, my good Samaritan with the car was tramping through the fields while his wife sat serenely in the car feeding their little one.  The man from the park (Andy) who hadn’t been able to stop her initial bolt was there having swapped his dog for a high-powered torch. There were others too – a lady called Claire who worked for the council and her colleague, another chap called Neil and Judith, a friend of a friend with Labs of her own. All of these people were complete strangers and yet here they were, in a field, in the dark looking for my dog – they searched with us until after midnight.

Other Half knocked on the doors of those houses backing onto the field in the hope that she had somehow gone from the field into someone’s garden. Despite the late hour people opened their doors, checked their gardens and offered their help – one lady, even though she was in her dressing gown offered to introduce us to her neighbour who volunteered with the charity Dogs Lost. Needless to say he promised to go back in the morning!

We returned the next morning with home-made flyers asking people to check their gardens and sheds and then went to see Carole, the local co-ordinator for Dogs Lost. Within minutes of knocking on her door we had our missing charge on the website and posters made. Within 2 hours the whole village was covered in them.

We searched all day. FD’s previous owners arrived with one of their other dogs in the hope that the familiar faces and scents would tempt her out of hiding. Everywhere we went people wanted to help. Three young boys who couldn’t have been more than nine stopped me to ask how they could help. Between them they decided that a Facebook group, regular postings on Twitter and an email to all of their local friends would be a good plan.  I was also quizzed on her favourite food and they earnestly suggested that treats might be a good idea. They were so sweet and genuine I could have cried, had there been any tears left by that point.

People called and left messages on my voice mail saying that they’d checked their gardens and told their friends to look out for her and wished us luck in finding her. My friends church group prayed for her – a fact that even though I’m not religious makes me well up just thinking about it.

When we collapsed into bed at around 2am on Saturday morning I was too numb to think. But I still had the overwhelming feeling that she was alive.  The news that came a few hours later would test my faith in that intuition.

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Annie

What’s that saying about ‘the best laid plans’?

Thursday 5 August

Having spent the week preparing for the arrival of our foster dog (FD) I was feeling nervous but ready as OH and I sat down to dinner. “Right, run me through the plan one more time.” He’d said. It went something like this:

• Pick up Lab Rescue co-ordinator at 7pm.
• Drive half an hour to get to the pick up point and collect FD.
• Stop at the large field opposite the house on the way home to let her stretch her legs.
• OH to stay with FD while I nip home to pick up Little Bear and bring him back to the field so that they can meet on neutral ground and get acquainted.
• Sniff sniff, wag, wag and then all home for supper before settling down for the night.

I didn’t expect it all to go to plan (we’re dealing with dogs after all) but I felt as though I’d covered all of the angles.  I had contingency plans for goodness sake.  As I remember, our main concern was whether the baby gate we’d set up to section off a sleeping area for her in our en-suite would be high enough to stop her launching herself onto our bed in the middle of the night. That and my nagging irritation at not being able to find a car harness for her like the one LB has.  After a fruitless tour of pet shops and online stores I resolved to try to order her one from our local pet shop on the Friday. Little did I know then how crucial that decision would be…

The meeting

Having been described as a ‘big bouncy girl’ I was shocked to see the timid looking creature that almost tumbled out of the car at the collection point. Big yes, but she looked as if she’d rather melt into the pavement rather than bounce.  Her tail was so tucked I had no idea even how long it was.

It took some persuasion to get her into the back of our car.  OH suggested that I get in one side and encourage her in that way.  It worked brilliantly –  I called her name and she leapt in beside me but sort of crouched – neither sitting nor standing, just hovering next to me as if she already regretted her decision.

As we drove the forty miles home she slowly began to relax until she lay panting next to me.  I stroked her gently and just ten minutes from home she had her two front paws hooked over my thigh and her head resting gingerly on my knee.  I studied her. A chunky lab, she had a post puppy belly and more than a few spare tyres bless her. Her coat looked as though it had been a long time since she’d been brushed and as I raked my fingers through her red fox fur I found grit and flea bits held in place with a waxy residue. She looked up at me with the gentlest, but most anxious eyes I’ve ever seen. “You’re going to enjoy staying with us,” I said confidently “We’re going to take great care of you and you’ll soon have a lovely shiny coat again.”

Ten minutes later she was running terrified and collarless towards a busy road…

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The Universe is a strange place on times.  In my last post I was bemoaning the fact that I wanted a friend for Little Bear but that Other Half wasn’t as keen, fearing that in adopting a companion dog we may risk the heartache of it not working out.  What we needed was a way to test the water. I volunteered our dog sitting services with friends and family and my dog walker friend has promised to pass on any suitable requests for day boarding that she can’t do, but it was looking pretty hopeless.

Then, the day after my whingey post, I got a call from a Labrador rescue charity I’d registered with months before.  At the time they said that fostering wasn’t something they needed volunteers for that often but took our details just in case.  I’d almost forgotten about it because we had quite a wish list too – must be dog, cat and kid friendly, female, playful and sure of herself. Who’d give up a dog like that I thought at the time.

The co-ordinator popped round to give us more details and <drum roll please> our dog, cat, child, horse and chicken friendly, playful, female foster dog will be arriving TOMORROW!

So it’s been all systems go on the preparation front (hence the lack of posts) while I do my homework around re-settling a dog, managing introductions etc. I’ve had some amazing advice from the lovely people on the Schnauzer Forum and I think I’m as prepared as I can be.

For the purposes of the blog she’ll be known as Foster Dog (FD) for the time being just in case by some quirk of fate her previous owner stumbles upon the blog.  I can’t imagine how terrible it must be to have to re-home your baby 😦

So we’re as prepared as we can be.  LB has had a haircut (pointless I know, but he’s nice and cool now), The Cat has settled into her new feeding spot out of reach of a greedy Lab, baby gates are up, coffee tables cleared (save a Lab tail does the job instead) and routines worked out.  Until we meet her and get her resume (a detailed questionnaire each dog has when they’re handed over) there’s not much else we can do except wait – impatiently!

So fingers, toes and paws crossed that all will work out well with the new arrival.

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If it’s true what people say about ending up looking like you’re dog I’m in trouble.  In fact I’m in line for a beard and more hair in my ears than any clippers could cope with!  So I’m hoping that that old chestnut isn’t true. But it is true that people and dogs form incredibly close bonds.

This was brought home to me last night when I was caught by an attack of what Holly Go Lightly would call the mean reds.  A bit like the blues but grumpier, I huffed and puffed around the house and gave Other Half a hard time about the junk in his office (which to be fair is none of my business). Worth his weight in gold and with the patience of a saint he offered coffee and hugs and let the storm cloud rumble.

My bad mood might have gone on longer if we hadn’t suddenly noticed the look on LBs face.  Usually flat-out and snoring on the sofa of an evening he was sat right in front of me staring up into my face with an expression that was just a shade away from panic.  Eyes wide and ears flopped out to the side of his head he looked how I felt – miserable.

I slunk onto the floor and sat cross-legged as he scurried to fit himself into the hollow of my lap, his head on my tummy so that he could keep watching me.  This was his favourite spot as a puppy – a sort of leg bed to snuggle him on all sides but with the benefit of two free hands to tickle and stroke his head at the same time.

“Looks like we’ve got another B for him” said OH. “Barometer Bear.”

He’s right. LB had been my shadow all day and despite two lovely walks, had been quieter than usual. We’re not shouty types so there were no raised voices or cross words to upset him, just it appears my deteriorating mood in general.  Poor Little Bear.

The leg bed, two gravy bones (for LB not me!) and a game of fetch soon cheered us both up.  And of course, Other Half now has a great new line guaranteed to work every time “Lighten up Hun, you’re upsetting the dog!”

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The lack of posts may be a give-away, but Other Half and I have been on holiday. We had a wonderful week exploring Dorset and Somerset and did it all dog free thanks to the excellent house, dog and cat sitting expertise of OH’s daughter and boyfriend.

Little Bear adores them both so we never worry about leaving him. That doesn’t mean of course that I don’t obsess for the first few days. I can’t help myself.

By day three of the trip I’d calmed my pants enough to not call daily just to check that they both still had four legs each and were eating their food.  I didn’t manage to stay completely dog free though. A friendly Lab in a crystal shop in Glastonbury was very obliging and let me give her a cuddle and our hotel at Lyme Regis had a resident Labradoodle who, I think out of sympathy, indulged me with a game of fetch on the lawn.

Doing the true tourist thing Other Half bought a postcard to send home. I added a quick PS along the side which said something like “Remember to kiss the kids from me!” The kids of course being LB and the cat.

The next day OH’s daughter called in fits of giggles.  The postcard had arrived and being as daft as we are, took it to LB to show him.  He apparently sniffed it all over as he does with all of the mail but then went into hyper drive when he got to the PS. Tail wagging he then proceeded to enthusiastically lick it until it most of the PS ink had disappeared!

Clever little (blue tongue) Bear.

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Little Bear will be 3 tomorrow.  I can barely believe it. He’s grown so quickly and yet in other ways I can’t visualise my life before twice daily walks, training sessions, a house strewn with chew toys and a permanently dead leg of an evening courtesy of the Schnauzer lap warmer.   

So here comes the confession – he’s getting a new teddy, a squeaky ball-shaped like a sheep and a crocodile chewy for his birthday. 

Oh, and he’s having a party next weekend to which all his best doggie pals have been invited….

On hearing this, one of my non-doggie friends looked at me as if I’d just told her I was taking an elephant sky diving.  I can well imagine the conversation she had with her husband later that evening  and I’m sure the word ‘sad’ came up more than once.  I’d put money on some derivative of ‘mental’, ‘bonkers’, ‘delusional’ or ‘disturbed’ too.

But do I care?  Hell no.  I seriously don’t give a monkeys.  I have animals because I love them and what better, more human way is there to express love than to mark occasions like birthdays with presents and socialising?  Plus, selfishly, I get to see LB happy and when the party rolls round I’ll get to see my friends to boot. 

So I’ll take great pleasure in packing his pressies in the birthday box (an empty, selotape and stable free cardboard box he’ll have great fun ripping up once the presents have been retrieved)  and stuffing doggie party bags next week – as the old adage says, the fun is most definitely in the giving.

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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!

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