On Friday I left work early, popping into a bar close to work to see England having a go at cricket in it's one day form before getting a train to Niagara Park. The station was stinking hot but the train was air conditioned and it was a pleasant enough journey with my book, on the sinking of the Kursk, to keep me company.
Saturday mornig and I was up early and out running, a loop from the in-laws home, along showground road, the central coast highway and back along manns road. I guess around 13km. It was overcast and far cooler than Friday and a nice start to the weekend. Tea and toast and Sal was itching to get to the RSPCA in Somersby so I could meet Bear. We were there spot on 10am as they opened. We checked in and strolled to the kennels to meet him, past various other hounds including a 9mnth old great dane whose name I don't know but he must think is 'fuck that!' if the usual reaction people have to first seeing him is anything to go by.
Bear was probably the second largest dog there. A handsome fella with a booming bark who calmed when the keepers were about and was a little less calm when they were not - typical of the species, very friendly in their pack. We had a keeper get him from his room and we took him - or rather he took us - to one of the exercise runs. The facility is superb and the animals - dogs, cats, a peacock wandering around, goats, chickens, hamsters - all looked very well. Bear seemed lovely; his lead tugging nearly ripped our arms off to begin with, but he calmed and between bouts of charging along the fence with dogs in the next runs would come over and rest his head on our legs and take all the stroking and scratching we had to offer.
So we decided to take him, did the paperwork and then I went back to spend some more bonding time with him. And that is when it went pear shaped. I tried to play with him and took a couple of semi-jog steps away and he jumped up and nipped my pocket and my shirt. Hmm. No running just yet then. Sally joined me in the run and he was fine but again tried to have a nip at me, this time unprovoked. Bear is a big lump and as we both work we can't dedicate the time needed to bring him in line - he has the attitude of an unruly 14yr old boy who has been alpha male for a while. So he is still there, as are some of Sal's tears, shed as we made the right decision and left that fabulous dog behind. He is lovely. But he is not ours. And I'm man enough to admit he scared me.
Rumpole, on the other hand, does not scare me. Sally had a backup plan. He is the newest edition to our family, a 10wk old English Cocker Spaniel boy. And he is cute. As I write this one wife and one pet dog are fast asleep in the lounge room with me. Rumpole, for that is the name we gave him (big shout to mum in-law Maureen for the name) has proven to be a fabulous addition to our family. So far. Despite spewing in the car yesterday as we brought him home, he perked right up after crapping in the kitchen as soon as we got in the door.
Today I have dog proofed part of the yard (or I think I have, he will of course have the last word on that) and he has happily played and slept - and crapped outside. He happily sleeps in his crate and nether Sal nor I heard him whine until after 5am this morning, by which time it was daylight. Considering we removed him from his mum and brother only yesterday he seems to be adjusting very well. He had a bit of a whine as I sort of ignored him while putting the washing out when Sal was not home, but soon settled and seems happy on his own but far happier with us. Expect to hear much more about Rumpole in these pages.
He snores.
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