Over the past 25 years or so we have enjoyed the pleasure of 6 dogs. Each has enhanced our lives in different ways, made us smile, despair, laugh a lot and learn a lot. Burgher was the first: rescued from a police pound at about 11 months, he was too shy or maybe too damaged by his life to that point to even look up or play with a ball. But gradually he came out of himself, became familiar with every inch of Hyde Park and every one of the ladies of the night around our part of London! When we moved to the country, after an initial period where he just 'got his bearings' - and our neighbour wondered how we could leave him alone in the front garden where there was no fencing to prevent him going out on to the road and beyond - he soon became the Rover par excellence. Whenever he felt like it, which was often, he would take himself off down the lanes and through the gardens and across the very busy main road (via the ped
estrian crossing, people used to tell us) to the huge acreage of woodland known as Burnham Beeches. Without fail, three hours later he would be back home again! (One day even bringing a friend with him) If ever I was lost when we walked through the Beeches together, which happened quite often in the early days, I would say to him "Where's the car?" and he'd take me straight to it (literally--- not along recognisable pathways)! He was red and white and looked more fox than dog and taught himself all kinds of 'tricks' like opening doors, carrying up to four balls in his mouth or putting those and his toys in a bag and carrying that around. When injured and having to wear an Elizabethan collar, he used it to scoop up the puppy and pin it against the kitchen cabinets! Bugsy really was one in a million. Unfortunately, he never got to see RectoryReserve because I think he would have had a new lease of life here.
About 18 months ago it seemed he'd finally - at the age of 7 going on 8 - grown up because he stopped pinching things. And he finally stopped dashing madly everywhere and gradually spent more time at home than down the fields. By the time last summer came he was sleeping quite a lot and had quietened down enormously - except when his great mate, Con the gardener, came when he would bark and bark and bark with glee all day just as he always has done; following Con everywhere and getting in the way and insisting on having his tummy rubbed every 5 minutes. By the time winter was coming on I particularly noticed how fat and grumpy he was becoming. But I put that down to jealousy over the fact that Gunner was going out for long days in the field with me and Pilot resented being left at home. Throughout last winter Pilot just got more grumpy and lazy and I joked that even Lancer with his bad leg ran around more than he did!
He continued to put on weight despite my decreasing his feed so I changed his diet and kept reducing the amount I fed him. To no avail. He also seemed to have difficulty swallowing the new food but I put that down to the fact that he was now having to eat it dry with no succulent bits of meat, or egg, included. Still no energy and still miserable and grumpy. Finally, one day when at the Vet with Lancer I noticed a leaflet about cats and thyroid problems.
estrian crossing, people used to tell us) to the huge acreage of woodland known as Burnham Beeches. Without fail, three hours later he would be back home again! (One day even bringing a friend with him) If ever I was lost when we walked through the Beeches together, which happened quite often in the early days, I would say to him "Where's the car?" and he'd take me straight to it (literally--- not along recognisable pathways)! He was red and white and looked more fox than dog and taught himself all kinds of 'tricks' like opening doors, carrying up to four balls in his mouth or putting those and his toys in a bag and carrying that around. When injured and having to wear an Elizabethan collar, he used it to scoop up the puppy and pin it against the kitchen cabinets! Bugsy really was one in a million. Unfortunately, he never got to see RectoryReserve because I think he would have had a new lease of life here.The little puppy was Trooper, found abandoned by the roadside the morning after the Great Storms of '87. A Mongrel, looking like a Labrador crossed with a Whippet, he lived to the wonderful age o
f 17 and in all that time loved nothing more than carrying the biggest sticks he could manage or to chase balls - all day long if someone would oblige. One time he was so intent on the ball that had been thrown across the garden that he failed to see the garden bench and ran full pelt straight into it! Did he scream? And he was so sore that he couldn't jump up on the sofa for the best part of a week. He was a bit of a wimp - screamed the house down when he had to have his toe nails clipped..... and hated the rain .. but he was my shadow and followed me everywhere. The little black dog was as loyal as they come but probably didn't have more than two peas for a brain!
f 17 and in all that time loved nothing more than carrying the biggest sticks he could manage or to chase balls - all day long if someone would oblige. One time he was so intent on the ball that had been thrown across the garden that he failed to see the garden bench and ran full pelt straight into it! Did he scream? And he was so sore that he couldn't jump up on the sofa for the best part of a week. He was a bit of a wimp - screamed the house down when he had to have his toe nails clipped..... and hated the rain .. but he was my shadow and followed me everywhere. The little black dog was as loyal as they come but probably didn't have more than two peas for a brain!Then there was Captain! Rescued from the same police pound as Burgher, he was our first Springer Spaniel. And he was the most lovable, cuddly, soft hearted, cheerful dog a person could wish for. He was always smiling and h
appy and everyone loved him. But was he frustrating! He had no sense of direction so was always getting lost in the woods. Also, he was wired back to front: if he saw us in the distance calling him, he would look, take note -and promptly run the other way. Many was the hour we spent waiting for him to come back to the car! Which he invariably did in a filthy wet state from bashing through the undergrowth or - his passion - chasing ducks across the ponds and ditches. He was incorrigible: he would not come out of the pond if there was a duck in it. On one memorable occasion, within weeks of major surgery and when he'd only just had stitches removed from his stomach, he ran (despite our efforts to stop him) to a very big duck pond and spent 20 minutes chasing them from one end to the other (their wings were clipped so they couldn't fly off) only coming back to us when he was contentedly exhausted! As a youngster he had managed to retrieve a live duck off that same pond and bring it to us at the water's edge where he dropped it proudly at our feet: after a couple of minutes the duck got up, shook itself and happily waddled back into the pond -- where it was chased again by Captain.....! He was a real introduction to Spaniels and although he spent an inordinate time at the vets and recuperating from operations and injury (undoubtedly incurred through his unquenchable lust for life), he was never down or miserable. He just loved life.
appy and everyone loved him. But was he frustrating! He had no sense of direction so was always getting lost in the woods. Also, he was wired back to front: if he saw us in the distance calling him, he would look, take note -and promptly run the other way. Many was the hour we spent waiting for him to come back to the car! Which he invariably did in a filthy wet state from bashing through the undergrowth or - his passion - chasing ducks across the ponds and ditches. He was incorrigible: he would not come out of the pond if there was a duck in it. On one memorable occasion, within weeks of major surgery and when he'd only just had stitches removed from his stomach, he ran (despite our efforts to stop him) to a very big duck pond and spent 20 minutes chasing them from one end to the other (their wings were clipped so they couldn't fly off) only coming back to us when he was contentedly exhausted! As a youngster he had managed to retrieve a live duck off that same pond and bring it to us at the water's edge where he dropped it proudly at our feet: after a couple of minutes the duck got up, shook itself and happily waddled back into the pond -- where it was chased again by Captain.....! He was a real introduction to Spaniels and although he spent an inordinate time at the vets and recuperating from operations and injury (undoubtedly incurred through his unquenchable lust for life), he was never down or miserable. He just loved life.
He passed on a year or so after we moved to Rectory Reserve. After him, there was no doubt that the only dog to follow on would be another Spaniel.
We had already rescued Lancer from Milton Keynes following Burger's departure. So when Captain passed on to new hunting grounds we found Pilot locally. Bred from a rough shooting bitch and a well regarded stud dog, Pilot was destined to be a rough shooter's dog. But, for various reasons, the family's circumstnaces changed and Pilot was advertised for sale at 4 months in the local papers. We went to see him and immediately said we'd have him.
He was such a bundle of energy: on his early walks he would charge at 100mph in any direction and when he tired, which was quickly at his young age, he'd just suddenly sit. Then he'd get up and run again. Then sit. Then run again. And that really became the pattern of his life. Forever charging off in search of something, leaping over any and every fence, wearing himself out and then flopping down and sleeping. He's never been interested in games ('specially not 'training' games), learned as many of the things we needed to teach him as he felt necessary and spent many happy hours digging up rabbits. A familiar background noise has always been Pilot barking in the distance whilst digging holes! And digging is probably his forte. From a very young age he taught us never to leave anything lying around within his reach. He would quickly pinch and then bury anything. ANYTHING!! Boots, shoes, t-shirts, keys, watches, toys, buckets, even on one occasion a duck -- buried it under the yew tree, head up out of the ground and it was still alive!
We had the saying that Gunner was the working Springer, Lancer was the retired Springer and Pilot was the self-employed Springer!
About 18 months ago it seemed he'd finally - at the age of 7 going on 8 - grown up because he stopped pinching things. And he finally stopped dashing madly everywhere and gradually spent more time at home than down the fields. By the time last summer came he was sleeping quite a lot and had quietened down enormously - except when his great mate, Con the gardener, came when he would bark and bark and bark with glee all day just as he always has done; following Con everywhere and getting in the way and insisting on having his tummy rubbed every 5 minutes. By the time winter was coming on I particularly noticed how fat and grumpy he was becoming. But I put that down to jealousy over the fact that Gunner was going out for long days in the field with me and Pilot resented being left at home. Throughout last winter Pilot just got more grumpy and lazy and I joked that even Lancer with his bad leg ran around more than he did!
He continued to put on weight despite my decreasing his feed so I changed his diet and kept reducing the amount I fed him. To no avail. He also seemed to have difficulty swallowing the new food but I put that down to the fact that he was now having to eat it dry with no succulent bits of meat, or egg, included. Still no energy and still miserable and grumpy. Finally, one day when at the Vet with Lancer I noticed a leaflet about cats and thyroid problems.
"Eureka!"
That's it. I have the same problem. Suddenly all Pilot's behavioural and physical changes were exp
lained. And confirmed when I asked the vet if dogs too have thyroid problems.
lained. And confirmed when I asked the vet if dogs too have thyroid problems. "Yes" he affirmed and went on to explain that it is quite common amongst, particularly, Labradors although most people are just so used to Labs getting fatter and lazier as they get older that they don't even bother to explore whether there is something wrong with them!
So we booked Pilot for a blood test and 48 hrs later the vet was on the 'phone saying:-
"Excellent diagnosis. Well done! You'd better come and pick up the medication."
Almost immediately the dog was different. By the end of the first month on the meds. he'd lost over 3 kilos and now, a couple of weeks on, looks to have lost another 2 or so. He's back to his old self - of about 2 years ago, which tells us how long he's been feeling poorly. No wonder he was grumpy! He's back to running around everywere and playing like a puppy and - heaven help us, pinching boots! He's even got the patience to play with Gunner - which he has never shown an interest in before. He really is a dog rejuvenated. Thank goodness we discovered the root of his problem .............
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