Epitaph for a Self-employed Springer

Pilot came to live with us when our
first Spaniel, Captain, was quite elderly. He came from good working stock (bred from the Chewekey line) from a local shooting man. At the time we had another young Springer (Lancer), whom we had rescued from Milton Keynes and a Whippet x Labrador(we thought) called Trooper whom we'd rescued after he'd been deposited on the roadside near Gerrards Cross the day after the famous storms of 1987. Soon after we moved here, Captain went to the Happy Duck Hunting Pond (Ducks having been his lifelong passion) in the Sky; Trooper went to chase balls forever and some years later Gunner came to live here. So we had three springer spaniels. People would ask if they were all 'workers'.  I would joke that one was unemployed - Lancer; one was a working dog - Gunner: and one was self-employed - that was Pilot.

Snoozing after rabbit dinner

You looking at me?

At the age of  10 weeks or so he would run  a hundred yards very fast and then drop down, then another hundred and then another. As he grew up it became 200 and then 3. The chap who used to cut our hedges at the time remarked : "that pup of yours has run down the fields as far as he could and back about a hundred times since I've been doing this - as soon as he went he was back". The neighbouring farmer put up signs "Conservation area: no dogs beyond this point" because Pilot was forever running across his fields in search of who knows what. We couldn't stop him. He never came back when we called. We gave up trying to restrain him. He taught himself everything he knew!  He never went beyond the local territory though (the surrounding 100 or so acres). Often I'd let him out first thing in the morning and then go back to bed with a cup of tea and see him trotting around the local fields looking for rabbits......
We never attempted to train him beyond "Sit" and "Heel" - both of which he was very good at. To be honest, at the time, we were busy doing other things and had no real knowledge of training dogs beyond their ability to be housepets. That was not his style. He made it clear that he was not going to learn more than necessary from us. I was very impressed that his brother, Bracken, owned by friends of ours (whom we met when I recognised the resemblance of their pup to ours) responded to the whistle.  Pilot had nothing but contempt for the whistle. If he was out with the Bestestgundog he would stop and watch as the latter responded to a command or retrieved something - then go about his business seemingly muttering "mad, mad". His main business was decimating the local rabbit population. Half (at least) of his life was spent searching out and digging up rabbit burrows  supplemented by the odd mole. And how he digged. He'd dig for hours, and bark down the burrows as if telling the rabbits to come out. We'd hear where he was even if we couldn't see him. And if we didn't hear or see him we'd later see where he'd been because of the huge freshly dug rabbit holes!  He loved nothing more than coming home with a freshly caught rabbit and eating it out on the front lawn - burying any remains for 'later'. Often we'd see him chomping happily on smelly bits of carcase. Then he'd lie down and dream the day away. Usually quite filthy. And how filthy he would get! He destroyed 5 or more dog doors by crashing through them. On his way out to find something or on his way home tired from hunting. "Crrrrash" and there he was or "Smmmmash" and there he was, gone.....

On a trail.....

Got business up the road

When he wasn't digging up rabbits he was burying stuff: any stuff. He was the antithesis of a retriever. He never actually retrieved anything in is life. His joy was to remove anything and everything and bury it anywhere in the garden or beyond - and he was quick. Leave your keys on the side-they'd be gone; take your shoes off at the back door and not put them away immediately and at least one would be gone - ditto linen from the basket,  anything left on the floor or a chair and even his best friend, the Gardener's, watch. Con, our gardener/handyman was Pilot's 'person'. Every Friday, Con's workday, Pilot would wait by the back door for Con to arrive. He'd bark like crazy when he heard the van come down the drive. Then he'd spend all day outside with Con - following him around everywhere - pinching his tools, asking for tummyrubs (and getting lots) or just running off and coming back ages later to where Con was working. At the end of Frida he'd come in and collapse as if he himself had been at work all day!  Which - in his world - he had of course. All Pilot's toys - including a 7 foot long 'snake' got buried at least once..... We had builders in: the oldest chap would come each day in his good shoes and change into wellies when he arrived, leaving his good shoes in the van. They disappeared. The old boy thought the young builder's lad was playing a joke. Nope. Pilot buried them. We haven't found them yet. A vet. student came to stay. For days I warned him not to leave his expensive North Face trainers lying around. He forgot to listen. One disappeared. I found it months later in the compost heap. We cleaned it up and sent it back to him! Whenever we dug the rosebed over, something else would emerge: a slipper: an item of clothing; a toy.... all buried. It was as if his mission in life was to bury stuff. The oddest was when the young girl helping in the house remarked to me that she'd seen Pilot run by the sitting room window with what appeared to be a duck in his mouth. He was not known for carrying birds.  I rushed out to look. I saw him going towards the chestnut tree: by the time I got there, Pilot was gone but I could see some freshly disturbed leaves. I went closer to explore. I saw a duck's head sticking up out of the leaves. The duck quacked! It was buried but still alive. How could you not laugh? In future years people will be digging up this garden and wondering why we buried all this wierd stuff..........
He was a great character and very much the Alpha dog. There was never any doubt that he was the boss. The other dogs crossed him at their peril.They only needed to get in his line of vision and he would lunge at them. Sometimes they didn't even have to do that.Every dog who shared his house was 'bossed' and put in their place.  Humans likewise. He'd snap if we upset him, even if we didn't know we had. And as for asking him to get of the car once  he'd decided to get in (and God forbid you left a door open when He was out and about)....... that was a definite No No! If he was in it, it was His Car. We just had to wait till he decided it was'' time to move or come up with a 'trick' to get him out - going for a walk sometimes worked as did "dinner" occasionally. Mostly though we just had to wait for him to decide he'd had enough. One day, the Big Boss used a pig Paddle to entice him out - much to the amusement of a friend who watched the scene:- dog barking angrily in car - Boss puts in pig paddle - dog grabs pig paddle- Big Boss pulls out pig paddle...... with angry dog attached!!!!! We were all very careful to check exactly where Pilot was before we did anything or let one of the other dogs go anywhere..... If visitors came, we had to make sure Pilot got the attention first and that the other dogs didn't compete for that attention - otherwise there would be a scrap.....

With Waifa on fireside rug

His alpha tendency meant he never made friends with the other animals. Until Waifa Cat came to stay three years ago. She was a stray who decided she was going to live here and, equally determined, decided that Pilot was going to be Her Friend. He, strangely, never demurred. She cuddled up to him and he let her. We were amazed. He never once grizzled or grumped at her - she didn't realise how honoured she was! Or - maybe she did! She'd make a bee line for him and just snuggle up. When we went for walks, she'd come too and trot along with him. It became commonplace to see them cuddled up together. I'm not sure he sought her out, but he never pushed her away when she approached him. They were just pals. She'd trot along merrily beside or behind him. He let her.

Walks with Waifa

More walks with Wiafa

Strange. Clearly his cat.

In his prime - October 2007

August 2012

With his long ears, he always had a look of 'eeyore' about him. In his last months this became accentuated . He was still quite mobile but I think he missed the fact that he could no longer do all the things that had given him so much pleasure.............. and a self employed dog could never get used to being a retired dog.....  He became
increasingly eeyore-ish  and confused. Physically, for his grand age, he was a fit looking dog but sadly his mind was less so. It would have been cruel to make him continue in a world that was not what he wanted it to be......  Far kinder to let him take his remaining dignity and go hunt in the big Watership Down in the sky.    We do miss him. The world is a more relaxed place without him - but somehow it is not the same.....he was a singular dog.... R I P