Chapter 3 - The first few months

Surely, it cannot just be me. Why do dogs like to eat everything they shouldn’t?

We had both taken a bit of time off work for this first week, as we had thought it was best if we could spend as much time with him as possible as he became used to his new surroundings. Unfortunately, it was now time to go back to work. I’m lucky in that I work in an IT department, and this means that I can work from home quite a lot, or if I am unable to work from home, I can at least go in late or come home early most days. Also, I only live five minutes from work, so I’m able to pop back home easily if I have to do a whole day out of the house. This meant that I could check up on how Kopek was getting on in between my meetings. Ronnie is also able to work from home a couple of days a week most of the time, so between us we thought it would be a rare occasion that Kopek was going to be on his own for more than two or three hours. During the previous week, we had tried leaving him on his own in the kitchen for five minutes, then ten minutes, and finally had it to half an hour. We had once even managed an hour on his own, while we sat in the lounge with a mug of coffee and a couple of books, whilst listening out for any signs of his distress. There was a fair bit of snuffling around, and a couple of minutes or so of some sad howling, but overall he seemed to cope with it OK.

Although the session he was on his own for an hour, he did manage to eat a brush, and make a start on a mop. This was probably the reason why there was so little howling. There was also the obligatory shredding of the newspaper, and then peeing where the newspaper used to be. I think he thought we left it for him to either eat, or entertain himself. I am sure this is where he started to get his taste for paper. He had started to shred anything made of paper that he came across in the house, that is when no one was looking. Whenever he was on his own and he came across paper, he set off stripping it into very small wet bits. As Kopek hadn’t seemed to mind being on his own too much, we were optimistic that he would be fine on the odd occasion that we both had to be out at work at the same time.

My first day back at work, and I had a meeting at ten o’clock. Unfortunately, I couldn’t attend the meeting over a conference call, so I had to go into the office. I had left Kopek in the kitchen with a small amount of food, a full water bowl, and a couple of his toys. The meeting, scheduled for an hour and a half, meant that Kopek would be on his own for around two hours. I had hoped it wouldn’t drag on, as. I didn’t want to leave it much longer than that, before I could check back on Kopek and see how he was coping. But as is often the case, there was a person there who insisted on using twenty words when one or two would have been more than ample, and the meeting went on for an extra thirty minutes before I managed to get away.

I drove up to the house and on getting out of the car, I thought “Not too bad, at least there was no howling.” I opened the front door, went in, and tentatively opened the kitchen door. A mass of fur, paws, and an enormous tongue promptly bowled me over. Even at four months, Kopek was quite a powerful dog. In the kitchen there was not much left of the newspaper we had left down, at least nothing that could have been identified as a newspaper. He had left me a present to clean up, right where the paper should have been. Ah, my shoes, I had forgotten to move them out of the kitchen. They were a pair of hideous slip-ons made of suede. One day for some reason, I had thought, “I’d like a pair of those.” I had bought them on eBay, and when they arrived, Ronnie was less than impressed.

 “What on earth possessed you to buy those?” She asked with a look on her face that was akin to if she had just discovered a snail in her boiled egg. “They look like a pair of shoes that your grand-dad would buy.”

To tell the truth, despite my trying to argue in favour of them, I was not overly impressed with them either. This is the other side of my impulsiveness. Once I get an idea to buy something, I don’t often take the time to think it through, I just go ahead and buy whatever object has taken my fancy. Our house is full of ‘stuff’ I have bought off eBay. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I’m an addict, but there are just so many things on the auction site, that look like a great idea at the time. Moreover, if I say so myself I am rather good at the bidding thing. Although, as Ronnie likes to point out, I’m not very good at the getting rid of them thing. Oh well, as I had said, I didn’t much care for the shoes anyway. They weren’t completely destroyed, Kopek had simply removed the soles, shredded them, and he had then chewed the edges a bit, just enough to give them that jagged look. “I suppose they will keep for trekking out to the garden to feed the rodents in the mornings.” I thought to myself.

I spent the next ten minutes calming Kopek down, and then put him outside in the back garden, while I set about cleaning up the kitchen. Once it was sparkly clean (Ronnie’s normal standard), I let him back in and went into the front room. I set up my laptop, so I could carry on working from home for the rest of the day. The front room of the house has always been my domain, and Ronnie refuses even to go in there to clean. This was my playroom, and the only time she reluctantly enters, is to hunt for a missing plate or mug. This would be one I had taken in at some point during the day, but hadn’t yet returned to the kitchen. My room is where I keep my guitars, music paraphernalia, and often the final resting place for the ‘stuff’ I have bought off eBay. It’s also where my desk and computer is set up; it is a real boy’s room. The majority of our male friends are most envious of it, and I think truth be told, their other halves are as well.

When I looked over, Kopek appeared blissfully happy, curled up asleep by the door. Kopek was starting to develop two modes. The first was almost lethargic, in that he would happily lie around for a couple of hours, either asleep, or simply watching the world go by. The second mode however, was full scale hyperactive. For instance, when I picked up one of his toys to play, he would go into a whirlwind of manic energy, jumping up and ragging the toy, my arms, and my legs. What was somewhat disconcerting is that he could move from one mode to the other in a blink of an eye. Dare to pick up a toy, and he would go from lethargic sprawl, to tugging your arm off within seconds, there didn’t seem to be anything in the middle.

Kopek aged 4 months

Why is it that a dog can always find something to destroy, even in what you think is a completely cleared room? When we had decided to leave Kopek in the kitchen, we had expected him to have a go at the cupboards. As I mentioned earlier, the kitchen was one of the rooms where we had not spent much time renovating, with its old worktop and very tired cupboards. We had planned to update it sometime soon, but thought it would be more sensible to wait, at least until Kopek had gone through the chewing stage that every puppy seems to go through. Not once did he eat any part of that kitchen, not the tatty doors, or the old bits of edging that never seem quite to reach the floor. He did however, help himself to anything and everything that was not nailed down, or hidden away in a cupboard, which thankfully, he never did learn to open.

For those next few weeks we would leave Kopek alone for an hour, or at most, two hours at a time. We were deliberately trying to build up the time, because very occasionally he was going to have to do up to a four-hour stint. Even when I was working from home, I would put him in the kitchen for a time, just to try to get him used to it. Every time he was left, there was something else gone. A mop, a brush, the plastic thing that you put your knives and forks in to dry, another mop, and one time half a dozen eggs that we had forgotten to put away. That I can tell you was not a very pleasant experience when it eventually made a re-appearance. If I were working from home, and hear a crash, I would go running into the kitchen. I would open the door, to find him ragging some object or other. He would then look up at me as if to say “What? Didn’t you leave this for me to play with?”

I must admit, I was getting a little concerned at the state Kopek was getting himself into when we left him in the kitchen, he really did not like being in there on his own. When I opened the door to free him, he would go crazy for about five minutes, tearing round the house, or the back garden, it put me in mind of a ferret that had recently eaten a Vindaloo. It was time to have another chat with Ronnie.

 “Maybe he’s just bored,” I suggested. “Perhaps if he’s a bit more room he wouldn’t feel so penned in, and would calm down a bit.”

 “Well there’s no way he’s having the run of the house.” Ronnie stated, quite categorically. She had seen the remains of the mops and brushes, and had no intention of giving him the chance to do this to the rest of the house.

 “What about, if we somehow barricaded the lounge and the stairs off? That should limit the space and potential for destruction a bit. We have to do something, he really isn’t happy in the kitchen.”

 “C’mon, I have an idea,” said Ronnie.

We put Kopek in the back of the car, and Ronnie drove us to Pets at Home. I had hoped to go a whole week without having to go there, my limit being three days so far. Ronnie pointed over to some cardboard boxes stacked up in one corner.

 “You’re a genius,” I declared.

Having invested in two large sized dog gates, we set off back home. Despite us only being in the shop for fifteen minutes, Kopek had managed to fill this time by chewing the handbrake. Here’s a hint for all you soon to be parents out here, dog gates are cheaper than baby gates, and as far as I can tell, they’re exactly the same.

Our lounge has no door on it, so that was where gate number one went. Gate number two went on the first step of the stairs, and attached to the wall and the banister.

 “That should do it.” I said to Ronnie in a most confident manner, “there’s no way he’ll get around those.”

 “Are you sure they’re secure?” She asked, she was well aware of my inadequacies when it came to anything with wood involved.

 “Of course,” I said, offended that she would doubt me.

 “Mmmm, they seem OK.” She conceded after giving them a close inspection.

I now felt quite confident that the area he had to roam in was quite secure. Now he had more space, I was sure he wouldn’t get quite so worked up. He now had the kitchen and the hall to roam around in, and that was a fair amount of space. Our kitchen is about twenty-five foot square and the hall is an ‘L’ shape, which is about five foot at its narrowest, and is about thirty-five feet long all told. I’m sure those of you still showing the battle scars of recent puppyhood will be smiling knowingly at this point.

I know, I know, I had not fully thought through my plan. Whilst the dog gates might have been a good idea in themselves, the fatal flaw of the plan was that this would now give Kopek a new space in which to find more things to destroy. There was a second flaw to my plan, in that this also gave Kopek the opportunity, should he ever get past the gates, to gain unlimited access to other parts of the house. To begin with, it actually seemed to work, a bit. He certainly wasn’t quite as crazed as when he was on his own, but sadly, he didn’t stop chewing things. “But hey, one step at a time,” I thought, “at least he seems a lot calmer.” By the end of the next month, Kopek had very calmly eaten a large chunk of the hall carpet. He had also calmly eaten another course of mop, brush, yet another mop, the doorframes into the kitchen, and for desert, he finished off my suede shoes.

Tasty

The other thing that Kopek now had access to was the front door. The access in itself was not necessarily a problem, it was just that the post arrived through the front door, and that was cause for concern. In some ways, we were lucky that the post normally arrived in the morning, usually around seven thirty, but on the odd occasion it was as late as ten o’clock. Most of the time, we got to the post before Kopek, but every now and again, when we had both left early for work, and the post was late, he got there first. Whenever this happened, all that remained would be some very small bits of unidentifiable paper strewn over the hall floor, often still wet with dog saliva. A growing theme with Kopek was his absolute love of paper, and he simply thought it the best possible toy in the world. Any time he was alone, anything made of paper was the first thing to get his attention. His favourite toy at that time was the inside of a toilet roll, or kitchen paper roll.

Kopek was getting bigger by the day, which meant that the range of objects within reach of his jaws was growing. He could now reach the kitchen work tops without too much trouble at all, and anything left on there was, as far as he was concerned, left especially for him. It’s an odd thing, I can’t remember him ever chewing anything left on the kitchen table, but that didn’t stop him turning his attention to the table itself, and eating the corners off it. It was a gorgeous old pine table; Ronnie’s father had made it for her, when she first moved out from home. It was a substantial one, with a good three inches of tabletop, big chunky legs, and very nice right-angled corners. Now, there were two chewed rounded ones, as over the first month he was with us, he had made a concerted effort to nibble a little bit off each corner every day. I can only presume the only reason he didn’t chew the other two corners, was that they were against the wall, and that would have been too much of a struggle.

 “How do we stop the dog chewing the furniture?” Ronnie asked. She had not been impressed the first time he had done this, and was getting less impressed as each day had passed. “If we don’t stop him soon they’ll be nothing left of it by the end of next month.”

 “It’s difficult,” I said. “It’s a phase that most dogs go through.”

 “Well, it’ll be a very short phase if he doesn’t stop soon, because I’ll kill him.”

Ronnie wasn’t in a good mood that day. She had arrived home first, as I had been delayed at work. She had been presented with rather a large amount of wet shredded paper to clean up, as unfortunately the free paper had arrived whilst we were out. That, along with yet more of her precious table having disappeared hadn’t put her in the best frame of mind.

It was time to try to put a stop to the chewing of the furniture, before it became a major headache, for both Kopek and me. So yet another visit to Pets at Home ensued. I had seen an advertisement for a spray that was supposed to make things taste nasty to dogs. There were two key words in the advert, the first was ‘should’, and the second was ‘nasty’. It should have read ‘might’, or ‘maybe’, or to be more truthful ‘probably won’t but worth a try’. I suppose I should have thought about this a bit harder, but things are often clearer after the event. It’s a sad fact of life that dogs actually like nasty stuff, in fact the nastier something is, the better, as far as they’re concerned. I never found out whether it made things tastier for him or not, but it most certainly didn’t seem deter him at all. Kopek did grow out of the furniture chewing stage quickly, thank goodness, and the phase only seemed to last for about a month longer. And no, before you ask, he still didn’t eat any part of the tatty old kitchen cupboards; I think he must have better taste than that.

One of the things that Kopek loves most of all, even more than paper I think, is that first walk in the morning. It was in the first month, after he had had his jabs, that he first experienced this. As I have mentioned, we consider ourselves very fortunate living in Suffolk, with its many parks and open spaces. However, even more fortunate for us, is that just down the road, about two hundred yards on the other side, is a field that is a haven for dog walkers. The field is about the size of two full sized football pitches, with a small copse, a basketball hoop, and an area with a couple of goalposts. There is also a fenced area with a kiddie’s playground in it, with swings, slides, and a climbing frame, this is a no go area for the dogs.

We had been trying to get Kopek used to the lead over the previous few days, in preparation for his first proper walk. We had been putting it on him, and letting him amble around the house, with the lead trailing behind him. We had also used it on him in the back garden, walking him up and down the lawn, and by now, he seemed comfortable with it. On this Saturday, we clipped his lead on and took him out of the house and onto the pavement for the first time. He was not a happy dog, down went his bum, and out went his front legs in that stiff determined way that dogs do. You could see it in his face “whoa, what’s this place? I’ve never seen this before.” Well it took us about half an hour to coax him the two hundred yards to the field, with him sitting down every couple of feet. Ronnie and I had to use all of our persuasive dog skills to encourage him to continue. Once he finally reached the field, he suddenly changed into what seemed a different dog. He was very happy to try to sniff every single blade of grass within the radius of his lead.

Kopek had lost all of his nervousness, and was straining at the lead, trying to sniff places that were just out of his reach. After about ten minutes, in which time we had managed to walk a whole five yards, we thought we would try him off the lead, and see how he would take to it. We thought this would be safe enough, as there are only three small entrances to the field, and they all led out onto quiet roads. Even if the worst happened and he took off out of one, we would be able to catch him easily. Kopek really started to enjoy himself, and he would run off a couple of feet and then run back. He started going in ever-increasing circles, but only going about three or four yards away at the most. Then he saw another dog, and it was like watching a Border Collie on ‘One Man and His Dog’. Kopek would take one or two steps, and then sit or lie down. He would then take another couple of steps, and down again. He got to within about twenty feet of the other dog before he was spotted. The other dog was fairly large, which we since learned was called Missy.

Missy was a cross between a Rottweiler and a Labrador, and she came barreling over to see Kopek. He was not having any of it, he came tearing back to us with his tail tucked up tight between his legs, and kept trying to hide behind us. Missy was about the same age as Kopek, but had been going out for a couple of weeks already, so she was a lot more confident than he was. She may have been a big lump, but she was as soft as any dog you could imagine, and all she wanted to do was play. Slowly at first, but growing in confidence with every minute that passed, Kopek started to play with Missy. The fear gradually turned to love, and Kopek became besotted with her over the days that followed. Over the next few days and weeks Kopek met many other dogs of all shapes and sizes, but I think Missy was always his first love, and anytime she appeared on the field, he would go tearing off towards her. They would then rough and tumble for as long as we would let them, and often longer than we would have liked.

It is an odd thing about dogs, for most of them, every day starts with a walk, and it is the same routine day in day out. Yet they get so excited at the sight of a lead, you would think they had never done it before. Show Kopek his lead and he went straight into manic mode, racing around and weaving in-between our legs. He would then do that little dancing thing, where his front paws lifted about three inches off the floor, in a sort of half jump. All this weaving and dancing, along with those little whining noises he made that sound like a wheelbarrow with a very squeaky wheel. It does make me wonder whether they suffer from some sort of canine Alzheimer’s, and they cannot remember that they went for a walk only the day before. Maybe, it’s because a dog ages seven years for every one of ours, so that for a dog one day equals the same as a week for us.

Kopek’s recall was not very good, and that is putting it at its most generous. So Ronnie made the decision that she was going to take him to dog training classes.

 “Good luck,” I shouted, as she left for the first lesson. I was not convinced that this was going to have much effect on Kopek.

 “At least it should be fun,” She called back.

 “I’m sure it will be,” I sniggered to myself. I had a picture in my mind of a circle of proud owners and their well-behaved dogs, and then Kopek speeding like a deranged dervish among them.

Surprisingly, Kopek took to dog classes as though he was born to it, and after each demonstration of obedience, the teacher was full of praise. Obviously, it took a bit of time for him to understand that the other dogs were not there to play, but after that, he did quite well. The problem was that once Kopek was on the field he completely forgot everything that he’d learned, and after six lessons, Ronnie stopped going to the classes.

 “It’s pointless” she explained, “He’s one of the best behaved dogs there. The teacher is always praising him, yet as soon as he’s off the lead on the field, poof, it all goes to hell.”

To give him his due though, if there were no other dogs on the field, he was quite obedient. It was only when he was playing, that he developed that most common of dog complaints, selective hearing. This was becoming somewhat of a theme with Kopek, as he seemed to be quite a smart dog, in that he would pick up new commands very quickly. Then he seemed to decide whether he was going to obey them, or not, as the case may be. Sometimes you could see him making the decision, he would set off running after another dog, and when I, or Ronnie, called him back, he would hesitate and slow down slightly. Then his ears would go back, and he would put on an extra spurt of speed. This was the point we knew it was useless to even try to call him back, as he had made his decision. It was as though when he flattened his ears, he was saying “Sorry, I can’t hear you.”

The local field became a place of absolute joy for Kopek, and it didn’t matter where else we would take him, he never got as excited as when he was heading for there. I must admit I loved going there too, as it was a great experience seeing all the other dogs playing together. Along with the usual crowd of morning walkers, of which there were about a dozen dogs, there were always a few new arrivals. These would come and go at intervals during the month. One morning I counted twenty-two dogs running around the field, it was quite an incredible sight. Nevertheless, I would have hated to cross that field if I were not a lover of dogs, as I think it may have been quite intimidating. However, I thought it was brilliant.

Out of the usual crew that visited the field, there were a hard core of dogs, which were firm friends of Kopek. There was Missy of course, and then there was his other love, Miya. Miya was a beautiful white Alsatian, who was a little bit older than Kopek by a few months, and she owned by my neighbour, Sam, three doors down. Miya lived with Elle, an older Red Setter who generally plodded around the field, and only occasionally joined in the play. I was always a bit embarrassed when Kopek and Miya played together, as she nearly always ended up filthy, covered in mud and dirt as they tumbled around together. Kopek’s favourite trick was to roll the other dogs. As he ran alongside them, he leaned into them at an angle, pushing them with his shoulder, until they tumbled over. As with Missy, if Miya ever appeared on the field, Kopek would stop whatever he was doing and race over to see her. This adoration meant that whenever they were on the field together, that was it, it was then the devil’s own job to get them to come back.

Of the other dogs, in the core group of Kopek’s friends there was Oscar, and he was the alpha male of the group. Oscar was as big as Kopek, and had some Rottweiler in him somewhere. But he was fairly mild mannered, apart for the odd occasion when he just set off running and barking into the sky for what seemed like no reason at all, except that he just felt like it. Oscar made sure that all the other dogs behaved themselves. If any of them got a bit too big for their boots he would mosey on over and assert his dominance.

Then, there were a couple of smaller dogs, there was Scamp and Molly, who were short dark haired terrier types. Molly seemed to love Kopek, and as soon as she saw him, she would rush over and jump up at his face. Scamp would also run over as soon as he saw Kopek, he would then roll over on his back, letting Kopek sniff him all over. Scamp and Molly were only about six or seven inches off the ground, so when they played with Kopek, they had trouble keeping up with his long legged stride. Mind you, what they lacked in height, they certainly made up for in energy and determination. They both generally ended up very wet after a session with Kopek, either because of Kopek rolling them in the grass, or from him play biting them. Scamp in particular always looked the worse for wear because he was longer haired than Molly.

About two or three months after Kopek first discovered the field, Alfred joined us on some of our morning walks. Alfred was one crazy Staffordshire bull terrier, who had a permanent daft smile fixed on his face. He could have given Kopek a run for his money in the longest tongue contest, it was very long, and it used to flap at the side of his head as he went careening around the field. The first time we met Alfred, was when he and his owner joined us on our second circuit of the field one day, asking if we minded him walking with us. Alfred’s owner was limping a bit, and was walking with the aid of a stick. He explained that he had recently broken his leg, and was a bit worried about letting Alfred off the lead in case he didn’t come back, because he was in no state to run after him.

 “Do you think he’ll be OK off the lead with your chap?” He asked pointing at Alfred and Kopek.

 “I’m sure they will be fine together” I said, “but Kopek’s only a puppy, and still full of that boundless energy that puppies always seem to have.” I warned.

 “That’s OK” He replied, “I have never seen Alfred run out of puff yet, and he’s built like a train. How about recall, is he any good at that?”

I explained about Kopek’s selective hearing, but assured him that he had never run out of the park, so it should be safe enough. Well, he let Alfred off the lead, and he and Kopek seemed to take to each other as if they were friends of old, both of them went for a manic run around the field.

After about half an hour, we thought that we should call them back as it was time to head for home, and I had a tele-conference for work. Kopek showed no sign of the minute amount of recall that we had started to train him in, and Alfred was no better I’m afraid to say. Alfred’s owner was almost hoarse, by the time the pair of them decided to come back, and see what all the shouting was about. I had given up calling Kopek some time before. I had learned that when he developed selective deafness it was pointless wasting my breath calling him back. Alfred, by this time, was totally soaked. This was due to him being rolled several times in the wet grass by Kopek, and it did not help that Kopek’s mouth spent a lot of time around Alfred’s neck.

The next time we met Alfred, his owner had brought a whistle. He said he had been trying to train Alfred to come back at the sound of it. He sounded quite optimistic, and he said that he’d been quite successful when he had tried it out in his back garden. As soon as Alfred was let off the lead, both he and Kopek went tearing off as usual across the field. There were about six other dogs around that day, and they all joined in, it was quite a melee. After about ten minutes, Alfred’s owner started to blow his whistle to call him back, and all the dogs stopped and looked over. Alfred’s owner kept blowing and blowing, his face was starting to turn a very odd shade of red. After several minutes of continuous whistles, one by one, all the dogs made their way over to Alfred’s owner. All of them that is, except for Alfred and Kopek, who were far too busy, having fun on the other side of the field. As on the previous time, they both eventually came back, but that was only when they were good and ready.

One thing I have found very odd about dog owners, is that they very rarely introduced themselves. Out of the dozen or so owners that Ronnie and I know from walking on the field with Kopek, I think we only know the names of about four or five of them. The rest we always refer to as Benny’s mum, or Bob’s dad. Some of these people we have known for several years, as one of us had spoken to them almost every day, yet we only ever refer to them through their dog’s names.

Benny and Snoopy were two beagles, that whilst not being in the group of daily walkers, we used to meet on a regular basis. I believe they were brothers, but they were as different as chalk and cheese. Snoopy was pretty much a loner, and was quite happy to run around sniffing the ground, only joining in the play occasionally. Benny on the other hand, used to get stuck in at every opportunity, he was also somewhat enamoured of all the other dogs. At least that is the politest way I can put it. He was not what you would call discerning in his habits, he didn’t seem to care about breed, shape, or size. He would simply have a bit of a sniff, and then quick as you like would start to hump. He also didn’t seem to mind which end he humped, and it was a common sight to see a dog wandering around the field with Benny hanging from their head, or some other part of their anatomy.

Another one of Kopek’s harem, was a dog called Africa, she was a beautiful pointer that was around the same age as him. They used to bomb around the field together, and seemed very well suited to each other, as far as craziness went they were as bad as each other were. Now whilst Kopek’s recall was not the best in the world, Africa was in a league all of her own. It was a common spectacle to see her owner almost in tears, with the frustration of trying to get her to come back. I also think Africa could rival Kopek in the naughtiness stakes. There was one time that Africa’s owner came on the field, half-laughing, and half-crying, saying “Naughty girl” to Africa. After asking whether she was all right, she explained that when she had let Africa out of the car by the entrance to the field, the dog had run right across the road, and straight into someone’s house through the open front door. After calling her for a minute or so with no response, she had had no choice but to go in after her.

She said that the sight that greeted her was like one out of a film. She went into the house calling “Hello” every couple of steps, and when there was no response, she had ventured further in, eventually coming to the kitchen. There she saw a baby in a high chair, a mother with a spoon in her hand, and Africa vacuuming up the crumbs under the baby chair. Luckily, the mother was a dog owner, and had been very understanding, so after apologising she had grabbed Africa by the scruff of her neck and dragged her out. I find it unbelievable sometimes, how some dog owners can take the most extraordinary events in their stride, and simply shrug it off saying “That’s what dogs do.” I believe it was just after this that Africa’s owner decided to take her to dog training classes. I was sure that Kopek would never dream of doing anything like that.

Despite my natural aversion to exercise, I was starting to enjoy walking Kopek in the morning. Ronnie and I would take it in turns, if I was working at home, or going in late I would walk him, else Ronnie would take him out. Of course, I preferred it so much more, when at the weekend, we took him somewhere where there was a pub close by to the end of the walk. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I was becoming fit, but I was now walking thirty to forty miles a week. This was probably twenty-five to thirty-five more than I used to do. I thought that this achievement certainly deserved celebrating by having a pint of Guinness, or three, at the local pub. Tim, being the age he was, had required so very little exercise, that often a mile or two a day would be enough for him. At that point, he would often simply lie down, and refuse to move. One of us, normally me, would have to pick him up and carry him back to the car.

It was always interesting when a new male dog arrived on the field, especially if he was entire, (if you know what I mean). There then ensued a brief period of growling and pushing to determine who was the alpha dog. Thankfully, this never got out of control, and the worst time was a bit of ‘almost fighting’, with lots of noise and gnashing of teeth, but no actual contact. As soon as another dog got a bit antsy with Kopek, he generally turned tail and ran. As he grew older, he did start to stand up for himself a bit more, but he never became aggressive. By the time he was thirteen months old he was starting to use his ‘voice’ with other dogs. As he was running with them, doing his pushing thing, he would be growling away, but as his tail was permanently wagging, so he was obviously enjoying himself. The field has become very much an integral part of all our lives. It sets the mood for the whole day, if Kopek has been good then we’re a lot happier, and if he’s had a good run round, then he’s a lot quieter, and content.