Having little interaction with dogs, I was indifferent. But owning one that became a beloved pet, I had a radical change of heart. Clarity dawned, understanding why dogs are called ‘man’s best friend.’
Living in a semi-rural area, well-meaning friends advised us to get a dog for security. I had perceived them as animals with no etiquette. They were expensive to maintain, requiring regular vet visits, paraphernalia of bug repellent, treats and toys. It also requires daily exercise, and pack animals need frequent attention. I did not want one in my house, shedding its hair, nor its distinctive animal smell permeating my home.
A friend called one day to tell us about a litter of Rottweiler puppies for sale, encouraging us to go and see them. We were initially reluctant, thinking the timing was inconvenient. Amid our taxing house build with no fencing, we nevertheless went to have a look.
Arriving to look, the youngest of the litter of seven and the only male sidled up to my husband, nibbling at his toes. That was it; we were immediately captivated and collected him eight weeks later. His naming was instantaneous as ‘Spurs’, after my husband’s lifelong English football team. Feeling he was too small to be left outdoors, though a tropical climate. I nevertheless brought him indoors, reneging on my no-no, having a dog in the house.
Bonding with him was a wonderful experience and he quickly became a beloved pet. Surprised dogs looked at you intently, lovingly, genuinely wanting to be a companion. He was loveable, full of personality, spunky and quickly adjusted to his new environment. Humanising him, I assumed he wanted a cuddle when he sidled up close, rubbing his ears and scratching his neck, which he clearly enjoyed.
From books, we learned how to train him that his breed is intelligent and loyal to their owners but unfriendly with strangers. Yet loving, they could equally be intimidating defenders and are excellent watch and guard dogs because they historically protected cattle. I have to confess, initially being very obedient regarding eating, I would tease him by walking away, dancing and frolicking whilst he obediently waited for the command to start eating; awful, I know.
With two and a half acres of land to explore, he enjoyed rustling in the bushes. I enjoyed watching him chasing lizards, but it never failed to amuse me seeing the lizard making its escape whilst Spurs continued sniffing in the vicinity. Again, humanising him would tell him the lizard had long gone and was probably at home, feet up, enjoying a chilled Carib beer. He was great to talk to, as he looked at you attentively, listening and seeming attuned to your mood.
A routine highly recommended we took him for weekly swims. Arriving at 6 a.m. at the deserted Atlantic Ocean, a muzzled Spurs raced ahead, enjoying the vigorous run and swim. Though he tended to want to swim further than we liked, he was not a good swimmer, bless him.
He was very protective of me; should I scream, coming across unexpected bugs or rustling in the nearby bushes. He would instantaneously be at my side, his look beseeching whether I was okay, which is endearing. I have to confess I am mortified when I consider in the past sneering at colleagues who sobbed when their pet died. A convert, I agree that a pet dog becomes a beloved family member.
A reciprocal give and take, we nurtured Spurs, and in return, he offered companionship, loyalty and security. His high-alert reaction made him our furry guardian angel when we had a home invasion. Now departed, he is dearly missed.
