Wednesday, 2 November 2011

Dogs and beds.

Dogs are as we all know almost human in their attitudes and likes and dislikes...they have their own ideas of what's right for them . Or not!
Our first dog was a tiny Jack Russell called Patch rescued from the RSPCA in Bolton. He did have a bed but he knew that if he crept very carefully into either of the children's beds he would get a warm reception so I'm not sure how much time he spent in it. It was wicker and lived in the kitchen. Not sure that he spent much time in it .
The next dog was a daft Springer spaniel...William was full of hang ups...he came from a game keepers cottage in North Wales and was actually balmy through interbreeding...he had a rage syndrome which got worse as he got older but he did love his bed which was in fact a bread tray swathed in cushions.
William was fastidious and whenever the mood took him he would spring clean his bed, taking everything out carefully before replacing them in a better order. Old bones, rubber toys, mouldy biscuits all found their place there and woe betide anyone who offered to help!
After William came Major, a rescued golden retriever whose original family had thrown out their Christmas puppy when he got big enough to be the leader of the pack of four boys during the long summer holiday.
Major had his bed and it was a proper one specially manufactured for big dogs.
When I became a widow Major opted to share my bed and I was glad of another body in it so there he slept till he died.
There was a lap over of about a year between him and Crispin a golden puppy.
As Major's bed was not slept in the new baby  was introduced to it. He did not use it....nothing would persuade him to even get into it.
After Major died I tried again but no he was not having it so after we'd moved to Cornwall I bought him his very own bed, giant sized...comfortable, navy blue padded and fluffy.
Nothing would persuade him to even try it....over a period of months we tried him with it but no....he was not having it at all. It now lives in the barn, a virtually unused bed.
People who come to the house ask where his bed is?
I feel mean having to tell them that actually he sleeps on the sofa in my office..specially if they were getting the golden  dog hairs onto their dark clothes.
Dogs are strange. How they decide on their own preferences is fascinating...even now as a very old dog Crispin views his bed  with suspicion and prefers the struggle to get onto the sofa.
We are all different in this dogs bed is another ones prison.....and so it is with people. We should celebrate our diversity!   it would be a dull world without it.
Post a Comment