the Walnut Diary

Our English springer spaniel Moody Blue died three years ago after a long decline.  Bet insisted each time I asked that she just wasn’t ready for another dog.

And then last week Roz sent Bet a card in which she mentioned the fun Charlie had had over New Year’s weekend in Lakefield playing with their host’s spaniel, Loki.  Apparently the enjoyment was mutual.  Bet read this comment aloud to me: “Did you put her up to this?”

You’ll never know what Bet wants by asking her.  Sensing the moment, I dropped an email to Blue’s breeder, Karmadi English Springer Spaniels in Maberly.  Owner Diane Herns wrote back that she had one remaining female puppy because of an unexpected allergy in her intended family.  Barby would be ready to go this weekend.

Looking for another Moody Blue, I asked if she had an older dog.

She told me that Time, a fine yearling, is part her breeding stock, but could go out to a home between whelping sessions.  She suggested we come to have a look.

Bet’s response to this reflected her passionate ambivalence:  “I can’t come right now because I have to feed these people,” referring to the crew of Martin, Roz and Charlie painting the interior of the new garage.  In a call to Diane we settled upon Sunday morning for a visit.

“You know that if I look into the face of a spaniel puppy, I’ll be hooked.  I have no resistance whatever.  I just melt.”

Then I came down with the flu.  This was the first such session since my retirement six years ago, and it came as quite a shock to the system.  Kept awake by the disruption through the rest of the night, Bet scrolled on her iPad through dozens of photos of Diane’s dogs, increasingly wondering if she was up to the six months of interrupted sleeps it would take to house-train a puppy.

By Sunday morning I had recovered enough to make the drive up to Hwy 7.  When we arrived Barby was part of a joyful tangle of 10-week-old spaniels in a playpen.  She was warm, cuddly, and clean.  Her antics with a plastic bone kept us in stitches while Diane finished grooming Time.  Then we met the yearling.  Time is a fine specimen of an English springer, particularly happy when in the company of a big bunch of puppies.  But it became immediately obvious to us that she had bonded strongly with Diane.  Time, to my mind, was a one-woman dog.

At length Diane mentioned that she also had Cagney, a retired show dog (like Blue), whose main drawback was her age, 8 ½ years.  She further mentioned that Cagney doesn’t like other dogs, and could use a home for her declining years well away from other animals.  While Bet cuddled with the puppy I asked to meet the old dog.

Cagney turned out to be a beautiful, dignified specimen in the peak of condition who looked as though she would love to have a new home away from the kennel.  Same as Blue.  We took her for a walk.

She definitely knows which buttons to push on a human, does our Cagney.  In the agility test she hopped neatly into the Lexus and perched on the back seat, awaiting instructions.  While well trained, she showed herself quite human in her delight with the smells and unexpected freedom of a winter walk outside.  She’s no robot.

What chance did a puppy have against a classy, experienced lady like this?

Once home, following the house tour and the food dish location, she proved quite amusing.  Cagney’s a talker when she feels like it.  Her woofs of delight and happy exploration of her new house added great cheer to the household.

Though bred and trained for the bench for her whole life, on the first walk in a field Cagney had a whale of a time bounding around her new territory.  She flounced around, exuberance in every leap.  Breeding kicked in each time she reached the end of shotgun range, and she would quarter to left or right and loop back to us.

Of course no clump of hay or brush could go unexamined.

But she reminded us most of Blue whenever a camera came out.  True to her show dog heritage she played naturally to the photographer, and concluded her first photo shoot with little yelps of pleasure.  What a ham.  When posed between us on the Ranger she suddenly decided it was time for affection, and planted a big kiss on my face as Charlie moved in for a closeup.

Bet read this draft over, handed me back the computer and said, “While sitting there this afternoon reading with Cagney at my feet, I thought: ‘The house feels more like a home now.’”

I guess both ladies got what they wanted.

THE MORNING AFTER (UPDATE):

Morning is much livelier here now.  As I stumbled down in the dark for coffee, a white shadow awaited me on the mat at the foot of the stairs.  She bounded around, emitting little yelps and barks, but quietly.  No time for a leash.  She looked out the lane at what must have been a coyote, then headed out into the field to do her business.  Happy loops, enjoying her freedom, but not for long, because hunger beckoned.

Back from her run her thoughts were only on breakfast, which she encouraged with a series of relatively quiet howls.  Hoovered the kibble.  Affection time.  Upstairs to greet Bet, still faking sleep.  Back down to me. Then she fell asleep beside me on the floor when I opened my computer.

A dog owner’s life.