A Dog for All Seasons
15 January 2006
Peter Travis
My daughter has a dog. Actually it’s a bitch. Or she’s a bitch. She got this dog from a rescue operation in Spain and therefore has no idea what races she is, or are. The dog arrived in a box on the plane from Spain at Arlanda.
I thought having a mongrel would be harder than having a pedigree dog, but this is not the case. The thing is this mongrel is so imperfect that she is relaxing.
She is a tan or brown colour, except that is for her tail that has a few black hairs. Her neck is too long for her body and her body is too long for her head. She looks all right when she is curled up but when she uncurls she never seems to end. Her head looks as though she might have a bit of Chihuahua in her or a pinscher, which is German for terrier.
Her teeth are too big for her mouth so that you can see the bottom row when she is relaxing.
She behaves very badly, attacking even the largest dogs if she gets half a chance. She dislikes people on bicycles and hates runners. She doesn’t like girls even when they are just walking. This means that taking her for a walk is nerve-wracking and you have to hold on to her all the time as well as keeping a sharp eye on her. The only time she behaves well is when fireworks go off. Then she goes heel like a pedigree dog.
My daughter took her to the vet when she got her and the vet found that she, the dog, had a hole in her heart, just a small one. She is therefore not even a hardy mongrel. You are scared to run with her or to cycle with her in case she pops it.
In the end, though these imperfections make life easier: one has no pretensions. If Georgina makes it for a few years, well, well done. In the meantime I am going to buy a toy pistol in the hope that we can teach her to walk to heel by firing it when she starts to attack anyone.
In the meantime, if you see a sweet little dog with a long body, watch out.
