Souls in Fur Coats

A Labrador Retrieval

 

According to the Bible God made woman out of Adam's rib.  If He used a man's body parts to create other beings, His heart must have been used to create dogs.  No other living creature has their capacity for love and loyalty although, in choosing humans as their best friends, their judgement is questionable.

I have been without a canine companion for thirteen years now.  I just couldn't bring myself to get another when, after my last darling dog, Winston, died, I was financially barely able to look after myself.  I am able to now but when I get another, he or she will become family and also the centre of my Universe.  I will put my whole being into ensuring his or her safety, well-being and happiness.  I'm also somewhat tuckered out by this self-supporting thing and I rent.

Soon, however, I will commit.  I am occasionally tempted to go to the RSPCA but know I would depart an absolute cot case wanting to adopt every animal there.  So far I've resisted the temptation.  Nothing makes me more ferocious than someone neglecting or hurting an animal.  No wonder my son is a Veterinarian.  I almost think of it as Karma, my gift to the animal world, that he chose that profession as his career.  I was too much of a mess when I left school to decide what I wanted to do and fate, God or the Great Dog made up for it by having my son choose a profession I would have loved.

I influenced him not at all in this decision.  He first aspired to be a Dentist but to my surprise he chose Veterinary Surgery instead.  I believe I did engender in him my love and respect of animals for he is a lovely and caring Vet and has given his home to three abandoned cats.  He and his wife adopted a black Labrador who won't go up stairs as the cats spooked her once.  Labs are notoriously prone to psychological disorders.  I actually had to get our Vet to sedate Winston once when I moved house as he freaked out so much.  A dog on Valium is not a happy sight and it's best if they just lie down and sleep it off as their balance goes right out the door.

I began life with a Scottie dog called Soda.  My aunt next door had a Boxer called Brandy.  You can guess what the girls of the neighborhood did at happy hour.  Soda died from a tick and I don't really remember him but my parents brought home a Labrador puppy when I was seven.  We named her Lady.  She decided my bed could fit two of us but she had the habit of pushing me further and further up towards the pillow while she commandeered the rest of the bed.  Sometimes she just plain commandeered the pillow.

Lady decides to be top dog

Lady lived to a ripe old age but one day startled my mother when she began to puff up to double in size.  She'd been bitten by a bee.   Mum raced her to the Vet and she was given anti-histamine and recovered.  She was also hit by a car and I remember holding the skin of one of her hind legs together as we rushed her to the Vet.  He stitched her up and she lived.

A dog's life - Lady and the author as a teenager against the beautiful backdrop of Pittwater

She loved our swimming pool and it was a race to dive in ahead of her as, as soon as we dived, she did too and would land on top of us.  I think she thought she was saving us but poor Mum never got to swim alone.  We lived right near Pittwater and we would also try to sneak out in our little boat with an outboard without her knowing.  The next thing she would run down the drive, throw herself into the water and swim after us.  Naturally we had to haul her aboard or a shark would have taken her.  This was a dog who knew her place in the family and wasn't going to be left out of anything.  She died before I was married.

Two girls singing - my mother with Lady

When my husband was transferred we went to Melbourne and I was very lonely so we went to a kennel and chose a Labrador puppy.  The woman who ran the kennel was later de-registered.  She had bred too close and Champagne, as we called our new dog because of her pinky-beige colour, had Petit-Mal epilepsy.  In the kennel she must have had to fight over food with her siblings as, after her first meal with us, she looked like she would actually burst.

One day I buried some old oil in the yard as I simply didn't know how else to get rid of it.  I was young and not au-fait with what to do with such things.  Champagne smelled it, dug it up, and ate it dirt and all.  Thankfully the hallway of the rented house was slate not carpet.  The diarrhoea that exploded from her when she was inside covered the length of the hallway.  I learned to find other places for oil after that.

Darling Champagne

We adopted another dog as well while in Melbourne, an older mongrel we called Bruno who had been dumped at my husband's site.  Bruno had the greatest heart of any dog I've ever known.  He loved and watched over Champagne and they moved with us first to Sydney and then to Perth.  I wish so much that I'd appreciated him more when he was alive but I was a new mother with post-natal depression and trying to cope.  Once he jumped up and put his paws on my shoulders when I was crying trying to comfort me.

When Rob, my husband, first brought him home from the site, we gave him a big floor cushion.  He slept for four days straight.  Champagne would go up and regard him with curiosity but didn't disturb him.  Then, when Rob would leave for work, Bruno would become very upset and howl.  He went straight through the flyscreen on the front door twice.  I got sick of fixing it myself.  I was renovating at that time and knew how.  I asked Rob to take him to work with him.  The Union guys on the site actually voted Bruno in as an honorary Union member.  Eventually Bruno knew that the house was his home and that I was his friend and stayed without a fuss.

 

Bruno on the beach with the author and Asher as a baby

Champagne and Bruno were both gentle with Asher as a baby.  I would never have let him roll on or annoy them the way some adults allow their children to do to dogs.  That is asking for trouble.  Champagne was always eager to play with Asher but Bruno, when resting, kept one eye firmly on him and, if Asher crawled his way, would just get up and move.

Bruno went into a second youth when we adopted him which was just beautiful to see.  While we had to keep Champagne inside the fence, it was useless to do the same the road savvy and independent Bruno.  He would kill Bobtail lizards and present them to me as gifts.  Once, myself heavily pregnant, I had to finish one off that he had left gutted.  It was no use dissuading him.  These were gifts of love.

One of my favourite memories is the one I call 'Asher's first rectal examination'.  I was preparing food in the kitchen and Bruno and Champagne were salivating beneath the bench top on which I worked.  Asher, curious and not yet walking, crawled up to see what was going on and crawled straight up to Bruno's behind.  Bruno was a full male dog with all his appendages intact.  Asher's nose went straight into Bruno's rectum.

Naturally I squealed, dropped what I was doing, picked up son and took him to the sink where I wiped his nose of germs although I'm sure he would have survived any.  Another day we took Bruno and Champagne to a park and the squirter sprinklers came on, the sort that burst forth in powerful, intermittent jets.  Bruno found his heaven on earth.  He put his mouth to the sprinkler and attacked every burst of water.  He could have kept it up forever but after five minutes we decided to take him home lest he fill up with water.

I will never forgive myself for Champagne's tragic end.  In Perth, Rob left the flyscreen door ajar and she followed him.  She was hit by a car and it fractured her pelvis.  Rob took her to the Vet but she was unable to walk for ages.  I was meant to lift her up and carry her outside to wee.  Because of her epilepsy she became aggressive when touched and it became extremely difficult.  Before the accident out Vet had advised me to put her down in case she attacked Asher but I never left them alone together and it was only on waking that she was disoriented.  Had she not been injured I would never have had her put down.

One day, trying to lift her, we both lost our cool.  Champagne snapped and so did I.  I just couldn't cope.  I yelled at her for which I've never forgiven myself.  I tried to make it up and soothe her.  I called Rob and asked him to come home, take her to the Vet and have her put down.  I couldn't possibly lift her, risk being bitten and care for Asher at the same time.  I made up with her while I waited, but I never forgave myself my outburst.  She was my darling girl.  Rob came and took her to the Vet but returned without her body.

I had expected him to bring her home so we could bury her.  He rushed back to the Vet's but the Council had already come and taken the body to the dump.  I never knew where.  I was furious with Rob.  Firstly for letting her out, secondly for not bringing her home.  I shouldn't have been.  He had a lot to deal with emotionally as well but one of the great regrets of my life is that day.  That is how much my dogs are my family.  Even now, over thirty years later, I wonder where she lies and it breaks my heart.

I had the strangest dream before Champagne died.  It was a week beforehand and she had not yet had the accident that would lead indirectly to her death .  I dreamed I was walking through a field of tall, golden grass the height of my head.  She was with me and also a white horse.  We came through the grass to see a vista before us.  Cliffs surrounded a lake beneath us but to our right down a narrow path in the cliff was a lovely valley.  Champagne began to walk down the path and I tried to follow.  Then I realised that the path led to a place where, whoever goes there, become a child forever.

I believe that dream told me where the souls of dogs go and I hope one day to follow.  I can't imagine a better Heaven than one filled with dogs.

END.

Bruno was put down at a ripe old age just a year later.  He seemed to be ill, shaking and in some distress and we decided it was time.  It may well have just been fleas but it was hard to tell.  The Vet came and Bruno was put down gently and buried under a lemon tree in the backyard.  I will always know where he is but in the spirit world I pray he and Champagne are together and that she forgives me.

In Hong Kong, where we moved for three years for Rob's work, I found a beautiful Labrador pup abandoned in our street.  There was no question of us keeping it in our flat but we rescued her, put her in quarantine to ensure she carried no rabies, and fetched her again.  We then advertised her in the paper.  In the meantime we had to keep her downstairs in the large, car park.  The flat's overseer, Mr. Chan, who spoke no English, looked dour and unimpressed by this canine invasion.  With enough hand signals we assured him it wasn't for long.  Mr. Chan obviously did not like dogs.

A lovely Chinese couple from the New Territories who had a house with a yard came and took the dog we had called Snowy as she was very light in colour.  I often wonder if Champagne was letting me make up for her horrible last day in sending us this dog to rescue.  It's strange because there just aren't many Labradors in Hong Kong, let alone a pure breed, and it ended up in our street sheltering under a plastic overhang from the rain.  I came to think the same when we adopted Winston our beloved Labrador.  For the first four years of his life, as long as Champagne had lived, he would have tested the patience of a saint but I loved him.

Asher and puppy Winston already taking on more than he could chew

He became a sensible dear fellow who was the light of my life but he always kept me on my toes.  I've missed him all these years and my other darlings.  I can never replace them.  I'm just waiting for the courage to start again.  I'm at an age at which their memories fill my heart.  They walk with me wherever I go.  I know I must have another but I would like a dog I can lift up and carry over the road rather than have to exert all my strength to hold it back.

Winston began life dragging me on the end of a leash.  In the end I had to wait for him to catch up.  One of my fondest memories is of the time I let him out of our yard for the first time when he was a puppy.  We waited until he was twelve weeks old and he had received all his Parvovirus shots.  I walked him up to the top of our driveway in Perth.  We couldn't see the ocean from there but Winston could obviously smell it.  He suddenly sat down and just breathed.  I have never seen such a look of sheer wonder on the face of any creature as the smell of the ocean reached him for the first time.  There are moments in your life so precious they are indescribable and this was one of them.

We named him Winston because, as a puppy, he had jowls like Winston Churchill.  I have never stopped mourning any of my dogs.  I love them as much as my close human family.  They say that when dogs removed from their mothers too young are prone to chewing to replace the teat they are missing.  Well Winston chewed.  We first put him in a cane dog basket, the ones that are about 18cm high at the sides and lower for access at the front and inside is a cushion.  Winston chewed the cane all the way down to the base until there were no sides left.

We gave him another one and he did the same to it.  He would punish me for going out by getting hold of one of my knee high stockings and swallow it whole.  If I forgot and left one in his reach, he would get it.  Thankfully they never became stuck in his interior but came out a twisted mess in his poo.

The best story of all, however, happened on the day we were to put him in a kennel while we went to visit my parents for the weekend.  He knew what was coming and stole Asher's Speedos.  Asher was eight at the time.  Winston swallowed them whole.  We were concerned they would get stuck inside him so we took  him to a Vet who gave him Ipecac to make him vomit.  He did.  Up came the Speedos fully intact.  We then took him to the kennel and went on our journey.  I left the Speedos soaking in disinfectant and washed them when we came home.  They were as good as new.

Winston was about seven when we moved to Queensland.  Our first rented house didn't have much room for him outside and when we bought a house it had a yard, but at the front where he could get to the road.  The house had a very long ramp leading to the back concrete area and Winston point blank refused to go down it.

We had to put him in a kennel and build steps to an area on the front grass, which we enclosed with a fence.  That done in just under two weeks, we retrieved him and brought him home.  He came inside and went straight to the ramp and went down to the back.  All we could do was laugh at his sheer perversity.  Eventually we put a large, expensive gate at the front to stop him getting on the road and he had the run of the place.

My husband and I broke up within the year.  Naturally our son, fifteen by then, stayed with me as did Winston who belonged with his boy.  We sold our house and moved to a rental house.  It had a steep set of internal stairs that Winston had to use to go down to the backyard.  He was frightened of going down but could handle coming up.  Some nights I could hear him almost skiing on his bottom downstairs.  This was the house where he needed sedation when we first moved in.  It wasn't the stairs.  It was because of the move.  He must have picked up all the unhappy vibes in the humans because he had never had this trouble before.

Eventually it became apparent that Winston had lost his central vision and only had peripheral, hence his fear of the stairs.  Eventually I built a home on acreage with my ex-husbands help.  It had no stairs and Winston was safe to wander.  He could find his way even though nearly blind.  Once a dog knows its territory their tremendous sense of smell guides them.

There was a steep, long grassy slope not far from the house.  Winston would sit on the flat area above it and enjoy the sun.  One day as he was aimlessly sitting and scratching himself his butt traveled closer and closer to the slope.  My partner Jan, who was sitting in the living room called out to me that Winston was beginning to slide down the slope, rear first.  I ran out and, by that stage, had to lie flat and grab him under his front foreleg elbows.  I was waiting for Jan to help and called for him.  No answer.  Winston seemed not at all perplexed and I managed to turn my head to look for Jan.  He was still seated and watching television.  Somehow, unaided, I managed to haul Winston back to the flat even though only his head and front legs were not on the four metre slope.  Winston then trotted off happily unaware he had almost done a downhill run worthy of a ski champion and Jan finally appeared.  All I could think was 'Men!!'

Winston chose to lie beside the television at night.  He would lie facing us.  At around nine o'clock, after giving us looks that suggested we should turn it off, he would get up on the spot, turn around, snort and lie down facing the opposite way.  We knew what this meant but we didn't always comply with his wishes.  I loved it when he came up to our room at night and lay beside the bed.  After a while though, he would always return to his place beside the television even though I asked him to stay.

I would close the doors at night and wouldn't let him out if we were asleep so he had to wake me to go out.  I would wake almost before I heard him coming up the hall to be let out.  I developed a psychic sense of his need.  It was quite strange.  I would accompany him outside and he occasionally liked to run off.  This was a game and I knew just what kind of behaviour he would exhibit before he tried it.  Nonetheless I spent many nights chasing him around the house in the dark.

When I caught him I would take him gently by the collar.  From puppyhood Winston would snarl or try to bite at any action he considered aggressive.  It took time to earn his trust.  He only bit once and that was my husband Rob, who made the mistake of being slightly rough putting his collar on after a bath.  Winston put his teeth into Rob's hand and pinned him to the floor.  I had the clever idea to run to the kitchen and yell "chicken".  Winston released Rob immediately to get his treat.  It was far smarter than trying to get him off another way.  I learned early on that we had trouble training Winston because he was defensive/aggressive.  Training had to done gently as opposed to firmly and once I understood this he became manageable but for his first four years he was like a delinquent teenager.

Winston developed severe arthritis and had such trouble getting up at night that he often wee'd or poo'ed where he lay.  He was most distressed about this so I made him a special mattress.  I bought four inch foam and covered it with thick washable vinyl.  He loved it and I could clean up the mess and wipe it with disinfectant.  He rarely got messy himself but I took care of everything.

The time came when he had to be put down.  Asher was now a Vet but living near Canberra.  He begged me to wait a while until he was home but I just couldn't.  Winston's incontinence became too bad.  One day he started trailing endless drops of urine through the house.  I didn't mind the mess.  I would have done anything for him but I knew it meant his time was up.  The day I called the Vet to come to the house I had all morning with him to give him love and attention.  By afternoon he just lay facing the door and didn't get up even when the Vet arrived.  I swear he knew.

That day breaks my heart.  He lay calmly and sweetly as Mandy the Vet said hello to him.  She sedated him and then injected him.  He was calm all the time and I'm sure he knew what was happening.  After she left we left him there with a cushion under his head and a fluffy toy possum I had let him chew that day.  I still have it.  He put only one little tooth mark in it.

When the people came to take him to be cremated I offered them some tea.  They stayed and we talked as Winston's body lay nearby.  I felt awful talking to them as he lay there.  I really hadn't wanted them to stay.  It seemed heartless to be talking to people with him lying there.  Nonetheless they treated him beautifully.  They laid him on a little stretcher and put a sheet over his body but not his head.  The man went out and took a rose from the garden and put it on Winston's neck, its stem under the sheet.  It was a beautiful way to see him go.

The fluffy toy possum lies beside the urn which hold Winston's ashes on my beside table.  He is kept company by this and a number soft toy Labradors.  Nearby is an almost life-size furry toy Labrador named Woof.  It kept my mother company in her nursing home and amused all her carers.  I am surrounded by dogs.  Winston died one week short of his fourteenth birthday.  That was thirteen years ago and I miss him still with all my heart.  I miss them all with all my heart but nothing has filled my life so completely, tested me to make me a better person or made me as happy as they have.