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Our dog Kees
Our dog Kees, a rescued Groenendahl [Belgian Shepherd], is a bit of a Harpo [Marx] with a well developed sense of humour. When we encountered a jogger while on a walk recently, he ran a wide circle round the back of him and then came up behind and got into step, running behind the jogger and grinning over his shoulder. The jogger was unaware he had a Harpo behind him and continued on his way, while Kees eventually peeled away and rejoined me. A happy dog and, since we rescued him and he realised this wasn't just another short spell away from the kennels in which he'd spent so much of his short life up to then [three years], he's been grinning ever since. Quite a few walkers I meet while out have rescued dogs, good that there are those who will make the effort involved to undo in a small way the trauma these dogs have almost inevitably experienced at the hands of humans. The result is often a very happy, and fiercely loyal, dog. Getting a Harpo is an unexpected bonus, lots of laughs. They all get on well, never any friction between any of the dogs, a social round of meeting, preceded by smell trails telling them who has already been and who ate what yesterday. The humans do too [get on well that is]. When we first got him he was still too timid to allow too much contact, everything had to be low key, and once he'd met our female Freya, we left them to sort a lot of it out; she showed him the ropes like a step-sister, after an initial 'Who the hell are you' reaction. And 'I hope you don't think you're staying'. He did and they are now the very best of friends, though she is still the dominant one and will forever be. But it's never too late to have a happy childhood, and Kees has got his. I just wish he'd grow up now, as a teenager can be a bit wearing. He allows us to brush him now which is a relief because a year of dreadlocks took some time and patience to get out. We're on top of it now, and his coat is amazing; shiny black with a double layer, like the wolf and the long-haired German Shepherd, so the inner layer moults and has to be dragged out so his skin can breath. The up side is he can have a doze in deep snow [if we ever get such a thing again] and not notice. There's only one thing that's intractable, his habit of howling from separation anxiety. The number of times we've been called over the public address in the supermarket to be told someone reported our dog in distrss, or found a note on the side window saying 'please don't leave your dog without proper ventilation, it is distressed'. When we get back, Harpo's grinning. He also does it while driving, so that's a choice as we've not gone away, and I can understand how so many people took him back to the rescue centre. |
 
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May, 2012
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