I remember, quite some years ago now, there was an old English lady named Edna who decided to take in an enormous Anatolian Shepherd puppy. The pup grew by the day and guarded the cottage with unwavering determination. She would polish off a whole washing-up bowl of food in an instant, and scratch her back against the garden fence so vigorously the poor fence ended up terribly wonky. Once or twice, she almost pulled Edna clean off her feet as she dashed past, leaving the old dear clutching her shopping bag and tutting. A puppy needs some mischief now and again.
Time passed, and then, as it happens to us all, Edna passed away before reaching her ninetieth birthdaynot because of the dog, but simply the way of things. That summer, Ednas children and grandchildren arrived at her cottage in the rolling hills of Oxfordshire, where shed lived all her life. And there, tied up in the garden, was the great dog. From the way she watched them, you could tell she was pleasantly surprised to see so many visitors. After all, its not every day a dog receives such an abundance of fresh faces and tasty titbits.
The family pondered what on earth they might do with her. To put her down seemed dreadfully unfair; to live alongside such a bear of a dog was daunting; and as for simply letting her loose into the countrysidewell, that wouldnt be very Christian. The good folk of England shouldnt be tested with such a challenge. So, the family decided to find her a new, loving homeand if need be, offer a bit of money to sweeten the deal. After all, nothing would be spared to ensure the safety of whoever took on this furry beast.
And so it was that they found a chap named Bernard, who had always dreamed of tending to a dog strong enough to eat from a washing-up bowl and with a back that needed scratching with a garden rake. People do have the oddest sorts of ambitions, dont they? The family called for the local vet.
The plan was outlined carefully: theyd give her a sedative, move her into her new home quickly, and remember to cross themselves and light a candle for the new owners wellbeingor, failing that, to say a quiet prayer for his soul. You never knew how these things might turn out.
At the appointed hour, the vet arrived, stout-hearted and resolute, carrying his tranquiliser gunjust as youd expect from a true country vet. He loaded a dart with a sleeping draught, took careful aim, and with one shot, sent the dog off to the land of nod. She was undone from her chain, placed gently onto a tarpaulin, and hauled along with many a grunt and a heave.
They bundled the dog into the bootan estate car so the boot was open to the back seats. The vet took the front passenger seat, having insisted that such a journey required professional supervision. Bernard, the new owner, took the wheel. Packing in behind them, the rest of Ednas family settled in, trundling along the country lane and chatting nervously about yew trees and Beatrix Potter.
And thenwell, quite suddenly, the dog began to stir.
She lifted her large head and gazed around, curiosity lighting her brown eyes. Everywhere she looked, she saw nothing but peopleall sitting quietly, observing her warily.
The vets eyes grew wide as saucers. Bernards did too. For all the world, he didnt even bother to turn his head toward the roadhis grasp on the wheel was the only thing that connected him to the task at hand.
How intriguing, thought the dog.
I wonder if theres a heaven up there, thought the people.
Without pausing, the dog clambered right into the back, pressing close to everyone. Why wait to mingle? At the same time, Bernard, in a mild panic, scrambled for the door handle, as if hed leap into the hedgerowsnever mind he was still driving. Before he could act, the dog proceeded to give every last one of them a slobbery kiss. She licked the grandchildrenafter all, they were familyand Bernard, too. They were kindred spirits now, werent they? She even slobbered on the vet, in spite of his tranquiliser dart. He might be a man, but really, what a lark.
And so it was that everyone realised theyd got the wrong end of the stick about this gentle giant. They rode the rest of the way, utterly drenchednot just from the sheer joy of the dogs greeting, but from the dogs great, wet tongue washing over every face.
Which, truth to tell, was just how things ought to be.
I look back with quite some fondness now at my dear old garden and cottage, remembering the uproarious mayhem and love that dog brought us all.
