I meant this to be the next post after 'The School Gate', but in all the Ashes excitement I delayed it. This is my second tip for those people who want to 'Escape To The Country' but are worried that they won't 'fit in'. Well, you don't have to wear green wellies and ride a horse: nor do you have to go around saying 'Ooh arrrgh' and drinking cider. If you have children, send them to the village school: and if you don't, get a dog.
Of course, this doesn't apply to people who think that regular exercise is what you do when the TV remote has been mislaid, or to those who come out in a rash at the very thought of fur, or who have chronically weak stomachs. For them, I'd recommend the am dram group (there's one in every village, for conoisseurs of forgotten lines, rogue props and plummetting scenery), or, for those who like to be big fish in a very small tank, a stint on the village hall committee. But if you like animals and the outdoors and fresh air (and let's face it, if you don't, what on earth are you doing in the country?), then a dog is ideal.
I have to admit to bias here - I grew up with dogs, mostly genial Labradors, and to me a house without animals is incomplete. I know they can be a tie, and it's a pain when the perfect holiday cottage is flagged 'No Pets', but for me the benefits vastly outweigh minor incoveniences, though I wasn't thinking that way when I came downstairs a couple of weeks ago and discovered that Rowan, our normally strong-stomached Irish Water Spaniel, had eaten something that had violently disagreed with her. Still, that's what husbands are for, so I told poor Steve, and he nobly cleared it all up. Fortunately, the effects were temporary, and I could soon walk Rowan again without worrying if two poo bags would be enough, or whether I should take the whole packet to be on the safe side.
Where was I? Advising you to get a dog. Well, assuming I haven't put you off the idea entirely, this is why. With a dog in tow, people will almost always stop and talk. If they have other dogs who are similarly good natured, then your dogs will play, sometimes for ten or fifteen minutes, while you chat. Not only does this mean that your dog will need less exercise and you can curtail your walk (useful if it's cold, or raining, or there's something good on the telly), but it ensures that you make friends. An elderly lady of my acquaintance moved to the village some years ago with her husband, who died suddenly, leaving her alone in a place where she knew very few people. She got a dog, and her world opened up: not only did she have someone else to look after, she had to get out to take him for walks, and when she was out both she and her dog made friends, myself and Rowan included. When her little dog died, she told me that her daughter had tried to dissuade her from getting another, because she felt it would be a tie: but she was adamant. "I made so many friends when I went out with Ross, and I really miss it without him," she told me, and soon afterwards Chloe appeared on the scene, to everyone's delight.
In fact, there's only one trouble with living in this village, with its beautiful scenery and its many miles of footpaths, and that's the small but vociferous 'anti-dog brigade'. To listen to some of them banging on, you'd think Rowan and Chloe and the others were only one generation away from wolves, dangerous and destructive beasts who have to be kept under fierce control at all times. We're not even supposed to walk the footpath across the village field with a dog that's not on a lead, despite the fact that ninety-nine times out of a hundred, there's no-one else on the field at all - so what harm can it do? Dogs have been blamed for damaging crops, running across the protective sheeting that covers the carrots in early spring, and of course for fouling the footpaths. Quite apart from the fact that most of the dogs I see loose in the fields belong to the farmers themselves (and they're all viciously yappy Jack Russells who shriek at Rowan as she trots past), I suspect that in a village with a lot of wildlife, much of the alleged damage has actually been caused by deer, rabbits or badgers, and the fouling could well be done by foxes.
So we're back to poo again (I'll spare you a description of how you can tell dog from fox from badger). That's another thing that dogs have in common with children - somehow, the topic always returns to the basics. But I'm proud to own Rowan, with her soft brown fur and her lovely friendly nature - yappy Jack Russells apart - and over the years she and her predecessor, a huge white Labrador called Maddie, have made me many friends here, human and canine. I've followed in their pawprints up hill and down, watched them stroked by admiring children, left them outside shop and post office, school and pub, and enjoyed every minute of it, even in the rain and snow, because walking seems pointless unless you have canine company.
Yes, a dog is for life - and a dog is also for all the exercise you'll take, the fun you'll have, the people you'll meet, the places you'll go, and above all for the love and loyalty that looks back at you from those intelligent golden brown eyes (just before you realise that the remains of the roast chicken have disappeared off the table). And unlike the kids, you can put it in the boarding kennels while you go on holiday.
Of course, this doesn't apply to people who think that regular exercise is what you do when the TV remote has been mislaid, or to those who come out in a rash at the very thought of fur, or who have chronically weak stomachs. For them, I'd recommend the am dram group (there's one in every village, for conoisseurs of forgotten lines, rogue props and plummetting scenery), or, for those who like to be big fish in a very small tank, a stint on the village hall committee. But if you like animals and the outdoors and fresh air (and let's face it, if you don't, what on earth are you doing in the country?), then a dog is ideal.
I have to admit to bias here - I grew up with dogs, mostly genial Labradors, and to me a house without animals is incomplete. I know they can be a tie, and it's a pain when the perfect holiday cottage is flagged 'No Pets', but for me the benefits vastly outweigh minor incoveniences, though I wasn't thinking that way when I came downstairs a couple of weeks ago and discovered that Rowan, our normally strong-stomached Irish Water Spaniel, had eaten something that had violently disagreed with her. Still, that's what husbands are for, so I told poor Steve, and he nobly cleared it all up. Fortunately, the effects were temporary, and I could soon walk Rowan again without worrying if two poo bags would be enough, or whether I should take the whole packet to be on the safe side.
Where was I? Advising you to get a dog. Well, assuming I haven't put you off the idea entirely, this is why. With a dog in tow, people will almost always stop and talk. If they have other dogs who are similarly good natured, then your dogs will play, sometimes for ten or fifteen minutes, while you chat. Not only does this mean that your dog will need less exercise and you can curtail your walk (useful if it's cold, or raining, or there's something good on the telly), but it ensures that you make friends. An elderly lady of my acquaintance moved to the village some years ago with her husband, who died suddenly, leaving her alone in a place where she knew very few people. She got a dog, and her world opened up: not only did she have someone else to look after, she had to get out to take him for walks, and when she was out both she and her dog made friends, myself and Rowan included. When her little dog died, she told me that her daughter had tried to dissuade her from getting another, because she felt it would be a tie: but she was adamant. "I made so many friends when I went out with Ross, and I really miss it without him," she told me, and soon afterwards Chloe appeared on the scene, to everyone's delight.
In fact, there's only one trouble with living in this village, with its beautiful scenery and its many miles of footpaths, and that's the small but vociferous 'anti-dog brigade'. To listen to some of them banging on, you'd think Rowan and Chloe and the others were only one generation away from wolves, dangerous and destructive beasts who have to be kept under fierce control at all times. We're not even supposed to walk the footpath across the village field with a dog that's not on a lead, despite the fact that ninety-nine times out of a hundred, there's no-one else on the field at all - so what harm can it do? Dogs have been blamed for damaging crops, running across the protective sheeting that covers the carrots in early spring, and of course for fouling the footpaths. Quite apart from the fact that most of the dogs I see loose in the fields belong to the farmers themselves (and they're all viciously yappy Jack Russells who shriek at Rowan as she trots past), I suspect that in a village with a lot of wildlife, much of the alleged damage has actually been caused by deer, rabbits or badgers, and the fouling could well be done by foxes.
So we're back to poo again (I'll spare you a description of how you can tell dog from fox from badger). That's another thing that dogs have in common with children - somehow, the topic always returns to the basics. But I'm proud to own Rowan, with her soft brown fur and her lovely friendly nature - yappy Jack Russells apart - and over the years she and her predecessor, a huge white Labrador called Maddie, have made me many friends here, human and canine. I've followed in their pawprints up hill and down, watched them stroked by admiring children, left them outside shop and post office, school and pub, and enjoyed every minute of it, even in the rain and snow, because walking seems pointless unless you have canine company.
Yes, a dog is for life - and a dog is also for all the exercise you'll take, the fun you'll have, the people you'll meet, the places you'll go, and above all for the love and loyalty that looks back at you from those intelligent golden brown eyes (just before you realise that the remains of the roast chicken have disappeared off the table). And unlike the kids, you can put it in the boarding kennels while you go on holiday.
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