Jonathan Dodd‘s latest column. Guest opinion articles do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. Ed
This week is proving to be a whole new experience for me. We’re dog-sitting. Arriving in the wilds of East Sussex I confessed that I’ve never been actively responsible for a dog before, let alone two.
“Oh, it’s easy. You just have to feed them and walk them and give them biscuits at various times and not ever give them your food and give them dog treats sometimes but not too often. And when you walk them you need to do the long lead and short lead thing and watch the traffic and don’t let them bark too much and put something on the furniture when you leave the room and well, it’s just common sense really.”
A certain amount of righteous gravitas
Now I’m known for being unfazed by having to perform tasks for the first time and my common sense is legendary, and I believe that a certain amount of righteous gravitas deals with most potentially difficult situations, and that things very rarely go so wrong that they become life-threatening, so I just said “OK! Have a nice holiday!”
Besides, Jo is my secret weapon. She has been responsible for dogs before, several times. She knows the ropes. Or leads, in this case. So, here we are for a few days, marooned in the middle of East Sussex, with two dogs, no phone signal, and in a strange house. The dogs look at me expectantly. Or maybe they’re worried that we won’t be able to cope.
My dog-related experience
I start to dredge up my dog-related experience. When I was a boy, a Japanese girl who was living with us for a year decided she wanted a dog. My mother obviously didn’t quite think the situation through, and Kumiko went ahead and bought a miniature dachshund, which became ours after she ran off to Paris with a French boy.
This small animal was called Jenny, and she walked to the lead in a dachshund-ish way, pumping her tiny legs as fast as she could to keep up. Female persons accompanying her would usually pick her up. Males never did, for some reason. I was junior enough to be told to take Jenny for walks, but not yet old enough to refuse without consequences.
We tend to get lost a lot
This was the extent of my dog-caring experience until this week. I’m now confronted with two largish black female dogs who are well-behaved and getting on in years, so they’re not too energetic or frisky. They’re well-trained, and the woods round here are good for walks, although we tend to get lost a lot. Luckily they know the way, so we follow them rather than the other way round.
I’ve always had cats. I like them because they don’t require a pack in the way that dogs do. As long as you feed them and there’s nowhere else they’d prefer to be, they’ll keep coming back, and they might even become affectionate, if they’re that way inclined and if they like you enough. They’re like people that way.
I’m washing my hands a lot more than usual
Dogs though, need company. They’re not very good on their own. They want a pack, and usually they want you, the human, to be the leader of the pack. So you find yourself with lots of responsibilities. They wake you up because you have to feed them or let them out. You have to walk them, and you have to make sure they come when called and walk properly on the lead, and there’s the vexed question of poo.
I’m washing my hands a lot more than usual, because I’ve been touching, or touched by, the dogs, and I’ve watched them putting their faces and other parts in some places where I wouldn’t go, so I don’t think that’s over-cautious.
They can walk but they’re not reasoning yet
They’re rather like children, at that awkward age when they can walk but they’re not reasoning yet (some people never get to that stage though). And they are rather like children in that your own are wonderful and perfect but you’re not so sure about those belonging to other people.
As a race we’re oddly selective about animals. Everyone loves certain species and hates certain others, and there’s not necessarily any rhyme or reason to that. These dogs are lovable, and I think their presence is growing on me, but I’m not sure yet, and I don’t know whether I’ll get back home wanting to own one. Or more.
The cats wouldn’t be impressed. I do know that.
If you have been, thank you for reading this.
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