Recently I was given the sad news that a four legged acquaintance of mine had lost an argument with a car. Walter the miniature dachsund was a charming little dog, the sort that actually makes you want to own one. Unfortunately he wasn’t built for speed. Slow forward movement seemed to involve a fluid wiggle, anything faster meant a jog trot that required more concentration. If I greeted him as he was on his way past in a hurry he wouldn’t look directly at me but his eye would swivel round with a look that said “Awright? See ya!” With a slightly German accent, obviously.
I like dogs in general but there is something special about the ones that don’t come up to my knee. It isn’t that they are more cute or cuddled more easily, in fact it would be a mistake to assume that they are all sweet natured. I have a childhood memory of the neighbour’s tiny Yorkshire terrier, Percy, chasing two terrified German Shepherds, mother and son, back to their home round the corner (“What the hell was that?” “Who cares, shut up and run!”).
When I deliver leaflets for the local allotment association I always exercise caution at a particular address. I’ve only ever seen this dog from a distance but I’ve felt its hot breath on my fingers as it drags the hapless piece of paper through the letterbox (placed conveniently at ground level) and shreds it for its owner. I persist as there have been a couple of occasions when this hasn’t happened but I‘m glad I‘m not their postman. I’d be surprised if they ever see their birthday cards.
Sometimes I wonder what it must be like to see life at their level, to get a crick in the neck looking up at the person their world revolves around. I once found myself behind a man on a mobile phone, oblivious to the fact that the small dog he was walking (not his I suspect) could not keep up with him. At times he was dragging it along. Hell was made for people like that.
I expect there is also room down there for the idiots who have followed the example of celebrities like Paris Hilton, owner of several “teacup” Chihuahuas. Unfortunately for these airheads the Chihuahua is one of the longest lived of all dog breeds (they last even longer than Louis Vuitton dog carriers) and can develop expensive heath problems. Consequently dog shelters in the USA are now receiving more of these little dogs than they can cope with as many owners discover that they are less disposable than clothes. At least Paris keeps her excess dogs, she has around seventeen.
She is just following in the footsteps of other rich and famous people. Marie Antoinette and Madame de Pompadour owned Papillons, and small dogs often peep out of portraits of royalty and the aristocracy. The tiny dog belonging to Mary Queen of Scots accompanied her to her death, emerging from beneath her skirts following her beheading. Some dogs were designed to be carried, such as the Goh-Khi of Tibet, a “sleeve dog”. For most of its history the Pekingese could only be owned by members of the Chinese Imperial court, the ultimate toy dog.
My personal experience of some of these breeds has not been a happy one, although I’m sure that not all are snappy and irritable. I suspect that, just like humans, they may get a little fed up as they get older. It's allowed. As a small child I played with my grandfather’s lovely Westie (highly appropriate for a Presbyterian minister) whose favourite game involved knocking down a set of plastic skittles. It was probably my grandfather who told me about Greyfriars Bobby, the most faithful of dogs, who stayed at or near, the grave of his master for fourteen years. He was a Skye terrier, a native breed now considered to be at risk.
If I was forced to choose a breed I would probably go for a Jack Russell. On the way home from work I have sometimes found myself behind one on his regular evening stroll and noticed that every few paces he would give a skip. I just had to ask his owner if he always does that and discovered that it is a characteristic of the breed. From behind it is a little like watching Morecambe and Wise dance off into the distance at the end of a show. I take these straightforward little dogs very seriously, having seen them at work killing off rats. It is easy to forget that many of these small breeds once played an important part in agricultural areas, hunting for vermin. So many residents of the White House have owned Scottish terriers (bred to fight badgers) that it is tempting to think of them as being good at herding US presidents. Alas, they cannot stop them from making stupid decisions.
For Raki, as a late birthday present.
My thanks to Alli and the waggylicious Hettie for posing and for not finding me at all weird for asking!
I like dogs in general but there is something special about the ones that don’t come up to my knee. It isn’t that they are more cute or cuddled more easily, in fact it would be a mistake to assume that they are all sweet natured. I have a childhood memory of the neighbour’s tiny Yorkshire terrier, Percy, chasing two terrified German Shepherds, mother and son, back to their home round the corner (“What the hell was that?” “Who cares, shut up and run!”).
When I deliver leaflets for the local allotment association I always exercise caution at a particular address. I’ve only ever seen this dog from a distance but I’ve felt its hot breath on my fingers as it drags the hapless piece of paper through the letterbox (placed conveniently at ground level) and shreds it for its owner. I persist as there have been a couple of occasions when this hasn’t happened but I‘m glad I‘m not their postman. I’d be surprised if they ever see their birthday cards.
Sometimes I wonder what it must be like to see life at their level, to get a crick in the neck looking up at the person their world revolves around. I once found myself behind a man on a mobile phone, oblivious to the fact that the small dog he was walking (not his I suspect) could not keep up with him. At times he was dragging it along. Hell was made for people like that.
I expect there is also room down there for the idiots who have followed the example of celebrities like Paris Hilton, owner of several “teacup” Chihuahuas. Unfortunately for these airheads the Chihuahua is one of the longest lived of all dog breeds (they last even longer than Louis Vuitton dog carriers) and can develop expensive heath problems. Consequently dog shelters in the USA are now receiving more of these little dogs than they can cope with as many owners discover that they are less disposable than clothes. At least Paris keeps her excess dogs, she has around seventeen.
She is just following in the footsteps of other rich and famous people. Marie Antoinette and Madame de Pompadour owned Papillons, and small dogs often peep out of portraits of royalty and the aristocracy. The tiny dog belonging to Mary Queen of Scots accompanied her to her death, emerging from beneath her skirts following her beheading. Some dogs were designed to be carried, such as the Goh-Khi of Tibet, a “sleeve dog”. For most of its history the Pekingese could only be owned by members of the Chinese Imperial court, the ultimate toy dog.
My personal experience of some of these breeds has not been a happy one, although I’m sure that not all are snappy and irritable. I suspect that, just like humans, they may get a little fed up as they get older. It's allowed. As a small child I played with my grandfather’s lovely Westie (highly appropriate for a Presbyterian minister) whose favourite game involved knocking down a set of plastic skittles. It was probably my grandfather who told me about Greyfriars Bobby, the most faithful of dogs, who stayed at or near, the grave of his master for fourteen years. He was a Skye terrier, a native breed now considered to be at risk.
If I was forced to choose a breed I would probably go for a Jack Russell. On the way home from work I have sometimes found myself behind one on his regular evening stroll and noticed that every few paces he would give a skip. I just had to ask his owner if he always does that and discovered that it is a characteristic of the breed. From behind it is a little like watching Morecambe and Wise dance off into the distance at the end of a show. I take these straightforward little dogs very seriously, having seen them at work killing off rats. It is easy to forget that many of these small breeds once played an important part in agricultural areas, hunting for vermin. So many residents of the White House have owned Scottish terriers (bred to fight badgers) that it is tempting to think of them as being good at herding US presidents. Alas, they cannot stop them from making stupid decisions.
For Raki, as a late birthday present.
My thanks to Alli and the waggylicious Hettie for posing and for not finding me at all weird for asking!
http://www.ericandern.co.uk/pages/songs.asp
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greyfriars_Bobby
http://www.dogstrust.org.uk/
http://www.rspca.org.uk/home
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Happy Christmas from this mud hut xxx
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