It is a truth universally acknowledged that a human being,
of whatever disposition and fortune, must be in want of a dog. Or at least that is what “dog-people” would
have you believe and I guess there is no denying that I am one these days.
It is amazing to me that the first animal to be domesticated
by humans, before sheep, pigs and cattle, was the wolf. No one really knows why, when or where but we
know it happened because dogs or proto-wolves were buried with ancient humans. Even today one can consider dogs and wolves
to be the same species because they can interbreed and produce fertile
offspring.
There are a few steps to get from the wolf/dog common ancestor
to a gentle soul like Pippin. Dogs for
most of human history have always had a function and worked as part of the
relationship. The concept of the pet dog
outside of monarchy is relatively new.
Even Pippin I believe would have made a sound working dog and would
excel at the fundamental role of the terrier: pest control. Of all our dogs she was the only one to ever
dispatch a rabbit or birds though that was a long time ago in England. In the US she had fewer opportunities though
even here she once effectively flushed out an armadillo in a Floridian State
Park. The armadillo was quite unharmed
but we did appreciate the opportunity to see it.
Our first dog together was Scamper (Irish Kennel Club Name
Vena So Sweet). Scamper needed company
but our first attempt did not work well.
Jelly, a rescue from Battersea, was just too old to play with a new
puppy. Next we got a golden retriever
called Megan but she was too big for our small house and yard in Walthamstow
and found a home for life with J’s parents.
It was third time lucky with Pippin.
She came from a farm in Surrey. For the runt of the litter it was a long drive
back to East 17 in our Nissan Micra.
When I got home from work we sat outside in the garden with her. She was an odd little creature, with a hump
of hair on her back like a camel. We
kept Scamper in the house away from her at first but Scamper was insistent and
when they met the terms of reference were set immediately to everyone’s
satisfaction. Scamper would be the
Napoleon of the operation and Pippin deputy chief bottle-washer and neither
would have it any other way. There was
no kennel club name for Pippin and that seemed right.
Her original name was Button. That originated from the fact that Scamper
used to spend a lot of time on the back of the sofa in the small bay window
with her nose against the window. Seeing
the button nose was the sign that you were home. The name did not fit well though (no obvious
diminutive and calling her ‘but’ was out of the question). Pippin came along quickly and stuck nicely.
Our Walthamstow days were spent often in the marshes. Pippin could more than keep up with Scamper’s
energy and this freed Jelly to plod along.
Our ancient VW camper had become a grander Peugeot based
Starblazer. The defining canine time in
this period was the death of Jelly.
I have so many regrets about Jelly. I wish that Battersea had said to us that she
would not last long and not to waste time on diet food and trying to eke out a
few extra days by denying her what she really wanted. When she became obviously very ill we had her
to the vet again and again. She had
blood tests and odd therapies but really she was just much older than we had
thought. Even on her last day I was
still giving her ridiculous diet treats and if I could go back and give her
every sausage she wanted I would.
Jelly died on a vet’s table.
She was incontinent and could not walk.
It was the right thing to do but it was horrendous. When that needle went in she looked at us
knowingly before it quickly did its work and released her from her
suffering. We staggered out and paid,
barely able to see the receipt through the tears. The vets were lovely and did their best and
even sent us a condolence card a week later.
We at least had to get home and carry on cheerfully for Scamper and
Pippin.
I hope that this made it better for Pippin. I never denied her a treat and she was still
eating pizza crusts to the end. Even on
the last day and she was so poorly, as soon as she heard me make Hatty’s
sandwich in the morning she came through to the kitchen and we carried on the tradition
of one slice of organic turkey for Hatty’s sandwich and one for Pippin. We also were determined that she would die at
home and not on a stainless steel table in some strange place and she did. Pippin had started to resemble Jelly but we
were better able to look after her.
So much changed when we moved to Widford,
Hertfordshire. From the dogs’
perspectives the yard expanded to the size of our former street and there were
fields stretching to infinity. On almost
our first night there I took the dogs around the field behind the house. Out darted a rabbit and off went Scamper and
Pippin. The field was dense with nearly
fully grown oil-seed rape and completely impenetrable to me. In due course Pippin trotted out but of
Scamper there was no sign.
I sat down in despair and texted J. I said I was not coming home until I had
found her. It took a very long time
before at a distant corner of the field I found her trotting, completely
indifferent to my distress. I had no
leash so I picked her up and carried her.
Again a rabbit darted and she nearly clawed open a major artery trying
to escape and go after it but I held on furiously. That was the template for so many walks. Pippin always loyal and with a decent sense
of direction would find her way back but Scamper, not so much.
We now had space and a large house but only two little lap
dogs. That is when we decided to expand
to a much bigger dog and Billy ‘Boodge’ arrived (aka Kenmillix Magician’s
Marvel). He was small enough when he
arrived but as a chocolate Labrador did not stay small. All our dogs were family dogs but they
definitely considered some of us primus inter pares (first among equals). Scamper was J’s dog up to a point (her
independence never left her) and Billy became his second. Billy was the opposite of Scamper and became
quite the baby despite his giant size.
Pippin chose the line of least resistance and became more
attached to me. It really was a marginal
thing our dogs’ preferences and just a simple practical matter. Pippin did not care much for Billy who was
far too big and clumsy whereas Scamper was content with the expansion of her
empire and at times would intervene to protect Billy from a grumbling Pip.
We had so many set walks. I would often take them around the
field. Scamper would be on the leash but
this was irrelevant for Pippin and Billy since they could generally be
trusted. Pippin’s main weakness was the
Westie love of rolling in fox’s mess so one could not be entirely relaxed. Our second main walk would follow the river
Ash and at judicious points Pippin and Scamper would be thrown in the river to
wash off the mess. Billy was scared of
water, which was quite ludicrous for a Labrador.
The big change that came next was the arrival of Bobby. J had given up work when we moved to Widford
and we had begun the process of having Harriet.
He would have to take off a lot of time from work visiting the US then
looking after the new baby so we decided to make some money another way. Scamper and Pippin had not been spayed and we
had been warned that if we left them intact we should breed them for their
health. So we bought Bobby (Mountainous Coppice)
to be their sire.
First time around Pippin gave birth first. Six puppies were born and Scamper followed later. J was going to France so that time I
had a closer bond with Scamper because I helped her deliver her puppies having
learned what to do from watching J with Pippin.
As a mother Pippin was both amazing and a disaster. She got mastitis and eclampsia because she
just kept feeding her puppies and as it turned out Scamper’s. The first time was bad but we did again and the
second time we bred her she nearly died from giving up all the calcium she
had. J had to rush her to the vets and
the only vehicle we had at that time was our motorhome. Down country roads at high speed he drove
our 24ft A-Class motorhome ‘Arto’. A
slow infusion of calcium later Pippin was restored to health.
We made good money from the puppies but it was primarily for
the dogs’ health and it was a very special time. The runt from Pippin’s litter we called
Batfink and I am still amazed we did not keep him.
Our world changed with the arrival of Hatty. It was a hard time in Widford due to our
neighbors but introducing a child into the extended family was plain sailing.
Pippin’s maternal instincts were so strong that once when on holiday in
Cornwall J noticed that every time he covered Hatty’s crib with a blanket
Pippin would not relax until she had wrenched it off out of concern for the
child.
Despite the problems I have amazing memories of all the
different walks that were on our doorstep.
Nonetheless, before Hatty had arrived we had decided on a walk that we
would move to the US. As it became close
to reality a few tough choices were made.
One of the people who had bought one of Pippin’s puppies (whom they called
Chester) contacted us to ask if we were going to do it again because they
really needed a companion for Chester.
We said no but suggested they could have Scamper, which they did.
This broke our hearts but the rationale was simple. Scamper did not do containment well. We had a 250ft long garden and that world was
not enough for her. So many evenings she
would be at the end of the garden shouting at the world that she was here and
in charge. We thought that taking her to
New York City would be cruel.
Scamper became Schrödinger’s Westie. She left us at her peak and is both alive and
dead. We can only remember her as she
was and that is a huge relief even though as time goes by we know that she
cannot go on forever. Scamper’s song is ‘Call
on Me’ by Eric Prydz and any time we hear that opening beat we will think about
her. Our original plan was to take only
Billy and Pippin briefly went to live with a relative who had taken Bobby but
it was too hard to be apart from her and Pippin came back.
In anticipation of moving to NYC we moved back to East
London, this time to Leytonstone, E11.
We were there a very short time but it was a good time. Despite our small garden we were close to Wansted
flats and Epping forest. It was the
hey-day of reality of TV for us with Sarah coming round regularly to watch the
X-Factor and eat macaroons. Billy slept
downstairs but Pippin of course always came to bed.
When the time came to go to New York we discovered Billy was
actually too big to come in regular baggage.
We were so lucky J’s sister took him to live with her family including Billy’s
sister Milly.
At Heathrow Terminal 3 we waved goodbye to Pippin but when
we arrived at JFK Terminal 8 we could hear her before getting through
immigration. Unlike us Pippin received
her green card there and then and arrived in the United States.
Pippin spent nearly six years in the US and she saw much of
it. She visited 41 states with us and
took dozens of internal flights (she found these much more agreeable than the transatlantic
crossing). She changed somewhat as the
only dog but in most ways stayed the same.
She was always a gentle dog who hated the sound of conflict. Other dogs might have found her aloof and she
didn’t really care for the company of other four-legged friends no matter how
hard they tried to engage her. There was
literally no point taking her to one of the city’s many dog parks though we
tried.
In our first year in Greenwich village Pippin settled into
New York life. She was petted by Sarah
Jessica Parker and our regular route was down Christopher Street to the
pier. In those first years we rented
Cruise America RVs and Pippin picked up life on the road with ease.
She became a wanderer.
I noted before that unlike Scamper she had a keen sense of direction but
that faded with time. We called her
trips ‘mini-adventures’ and they were mostly predicated around the search for
food. If you were cooking out on your
grill Pippin would be very happy to join you.
There were quite a few trailers and RVs which received a visit from
Pippin who could convincingly act like she had not eaten in days.
She has her own chair in the RV and her own special basket in
the middle of the truck. She experienced
punishing heat and bitter cold as we wound our way through the states. Kids loved her and she was always so tolerant
and kind to prodding fingers and childish screeching. She was there in Buffalo when we met Mikey
for the first time though she had to sit in the back of the car when we were in
the hospital. She complained yes but in
the grand scheme of things she barely mentioned it.
Our move to the Upper West Side opened up another new world
to her and every Saturday and Sunday Pip, Hatty and I would go on a walk. I always bought Hatty a pain au chocolat and
Pip always got some scraps though we knew to avoid the chocolat. In recent months her willingness to walk
diminished rapidly and it was September 4th when she last did a
proper walk with us and even then it was a tiny one to the museum.
I had hoped we would get longer with old lady Pip though in
our hearts we always knew that the runt of the litter from Surrey would not
likely challenge the longevity records for a Westie. Pippin has gone now but I have no
regrets. I learned from the Jelly
mistakes and while I would love to give her another croissant I know that I
never denied her and it did no harm at all.
It seems wrong to try to remember so clearly her death. Death even at its best is an unpleasant thing
but I know that she did it at home with us and was in zero pain. At the very end she was not really with us and
I was willing my precious angel’s body to finally rest but I cannot feel bad about
that. On her last day when she was still
herself I lay down on the floor and stuck my nose against her and we just lay
there. I wish it could have been longer
but I was lucky to have it at all. I
have known what it is like to have her rest her head on my shoulder and feel
its heaviness. We loved her and we were
loved in return.
I have written a lot about this little dog and I will write
more in the future. I want the record of
a life well lived. We will get another
dog but we will never replace her. I am
not in the habit of quoting CS Lewis but this speaks to me right now, from
Shadowlands:
Why love if losing
hurts so much? I have no answers any more. Only the life I have lived. Twice in
that life I’ve been given the choice: as a boy and as a man. The boy chose
safety, the man chooses suffering. The pain now is part of the happiness then.
That’s the deal.
I do not venerate her body and there is no monument to her. She lives on in her 11 descendants and in
us. I will never forget.
