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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

I took puppy for a walk last night, the first long, proper walk he's ever been on. We've brought him around the block a few times, usually on a nightly meanders with the other two dogs, but this takes an awful long time thanks to the other two being lame, and puppy viewing the lead as some kind of instrument of torture.

I've never seen a dog react to the lead in quite the way that Bobby does. He must associate it with some very bad things, because when you produce a lead in front of any other dog, they got all excited and jumpy and giddy because it promises all sorts of excitement and adventure. Even Honey manages to do a bit of a dance when she sees the lead come out. But Bobby cringes and lies down on the floor and shows you his tummy and basically begs for mercy when the lead is attached to his collar. Hopefully this association will soon fade, because at the moment it looks like we've spent every day of his life beating him half to death with it.

We decided (we? I decided. Bobby was not involved in the decision making process at all) to walk down to my sisters' house, since they live about 20 minutes away along a well lit road, and since at the end of the walk there would be my sisters to shower him with praise at what a great dog he was, and also Kesh to play with. Bobby, though, is frightened of the following things:

cars
people
buses
loud noises
Christmas lights
other people
other dogs
tree branches
my shadow
his own shadow

In short: everything. The little thing is basically a cowering but manly mess. He faces his fears directly, taking the confrontational approach to fear, and I applaud him for it. This however does mean that every three seconds, while you're trying to build up a stride and pace to the walk, he's stopping, squaring up against the enemy (a leaf, for example), getting the hackles raised and starting his fabulously high pitched and hysterical barking. Every. Three. Seconds. This makes the 20 minute walk to the twin's house last 40 minutes.

Towards the end, when we'd crossed over at a pedestrian crossing (he's scared of the noise they make) and some dogs across the road had started barking, I gave up and picked him up, carrying the quivering bundle the last five minutes until we got to the quieter estate where the twins live. I met D walking the other direction, and she said she knew it could only be me, because who else brings their dog out for a cuddle.

Our puppy, ladies and gentlemen.

This entry was posted on 22 December 2004 at 9:48 pm. 0 comments

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