Over the past two years, or so, I’ve penned on several occasions about my lab/retriever buddy Coco. The loveable canine force of nature whose exuberance on greeting people is delivered with such forceful excitement it wouldn’t surprise me if her hello registered on the Richter Scale.
As a middle-aged man who’d never owned a dog and bore previous indifference towards our furry friends I was blessed, through friendship with Coco’s owner Sam, to finally ‘get’ why so many individuals unconditionally dote on these wonderful creatures.
Sadly, after Sam’s relocation to Wales, I barely get to see old Cocohontas (as no one calls my little doggy chum). However, recently this canine fix has been partly restored by meeting new friend Sare’s dogs Zella and Deano.
Footnote – Sare is really called Sarah; however, as Sare is an anagram of arse, I prefer to call her by the shortened moniker….. Immature and impolite of yours truly I know; nevertheless a mischievous coincidence I’m loathed to waste.
Anyhow, being in the company of Zella and Deano has rekindled similar brio levels as the joy Coco regularly imparted for over a year as the 2010’s transitioned into a new decade.
Neither dog exhibits the excitement upon meeting and greeting as old Cokington (as no one calls the lab/retriever cross). However Zella, a 11 year old German Shepherd bitch, possesses a similar loving and caring nature of Cokehampton (as no one also ever calls the sandy furred canine).
To say Deano possessed the same loving, gentle nature would be stretching the truth somewhat. Despite being an elderly for a dog (13 years old), the male Lhasa Apso is still energetic enough to growl his displeasure at those misguided enough to antagonise him. The little fella not adverse to displaying curmudgeonly behavioural traits which’d even eclipse master of misery Victor Meldrew.
The elderly canine, who takes advantage of Zella’s beautiful nature, along with the fact he possesses one more vowel in his name (dog’s are so chuffing competitive), wanders around their abode like he owns the place. This despite Zellington (as no one calls her) having a considerable height and weight advantage over the little s**t (as lots of people call him!).
Although occasionally looking after the doggy duo when Sare is at work, a task which includes feeding and affording them outdoor toilet breaks, I’m yet to walk both of them on my tod. A duty I’ll undertake at some point, but not until I’m more au fait with the endearing mutt’s behavioural traits.
One trait I have been told to watch out for is Deano’s habit of spinning around a few times (a la Diane Prince turning into Wonder Woman) prior to poohing. Something which struck me as odd until realising we’ve all probably done the same thing after a night on the tiles….. Not that Deano ever has a night on the towels, I hasten to add!….. He sleeps in a basket on top of the tiles.
Whenever I first greet Deano I sing him the first few lines of Dexy’s Midnight Runners smash hit ‘Geno’, substituting any reference to Geno into Deano….. The wee doggy seems unimpressed with my adapted version of the refrain, but as he’s deaf anyway I comfort myself knowing he was never going to appreciate the creative genius employed in recreating the piece.
Anyhow, I need to bring this narrative to a conclusion as I’ve a few errands to run. To close I’ll leave you with Deano’s last words to me before leaving him earlier;- “Grrrrrrrrr……. Woof…….. Grrrrrrrrr!”
The miserable little get!!
“Back in ’68 in a sweaty club
Before Jimmy’s Machine and The Rocksteady Rub
On a night when flowers didn’t suit my shoes
After a week of flunkin’ and bunkin’ school
The lowest head in the crowd that night
Just practicin’ steps and keepin’ outta the fights……