emma and company - Sheila Hocken
Page 7
now Emma, too, was blind and deaf, those things didn't worry
her. She'd adapted marvellously in the house, remembering
where all the furniture was, and it was only at times when
Kerensa's toys were strewn around the floor or I'd unwittingly
moved a chair that i realized Emma couldn't see.
Human beings are far more affected by these disabilities than
animals. But to lose the use of her back legs - i felt that would
be the ultimate humiliation for her.
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'I think that'll come gradually but you'll have to help her
around for quite a while.'
'Why should she go ofyher back legs if it's something to do
with her tummy?' i asked.
' It's so painful,' she explained to me, 'that she tends to
hold her muscles tightly and then can't use her back legs.
Don't worry, she'll be better soon. I'll come and see her
again tomorrow.'
It was two-thirty am when Gwen left our house that
Sunday morning, a totally different figure to me than when
she had first come in. i had every faith in her now: she was a
brilliant vet.
When we returned to the lounge Emma was sleeping
peacefully.
'It's a shame to disturb her to take her upstairs,' Don said.
'I don't think it would be good for her to climb the stairs
anyway. Shall we leave her down here tonight?'
i reluctantly agreed, knowing it was the best for Emma.
But when i entered the bedroom, i didn't dare look at the
space where Emma's bed should be. i climbed into bed and
closed my eyes to the fact that she wasn't there. i had to keep
telling myself that she was asleep in the lounge and she was
going to be all right, but i found it almost impossible to sleep
in the silence. i was so used to hearing Emma's deep
breathing and the occasional little snort and snore from her
bed. The silence was overwhelming. i had to try and keep
my brain occupied with silly little things ... making
shopping lists for the following Monday, mapping out the
whole of my day for Sunday - what we were having for
dinner, how many potatoes I'd peel, etc. - until eventually i
was carried off into an uneasy sleep until the morning.
Emma was still unable to walk unaided that day. We
found a long strip of soft towelling which we looped under
her tummy to support her as we walked her round the
garden.
'The main thing is,' Don told me, practical as always, 'to
let her walk around and give her legs a stretch. Don't leave
her lying there too long.'
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ill
i rubbed Emma's back legs constantly and as soon as she
looked as if she wanted to go anywhere i helped her up on to
her feet, walking her up and down the lounge, round the hall,
into the kitchen, out into the back garden. It was at this point
that Bracken began to show even more devotion to Emma.
He couldn't understand why she had to be helped in and out
but it worried him and he would always come with us,
walking round her, giving her a lick round the cars and
round the nose to reassure her that he was still there.
Emma's recovery from that illness was a slow one, but she
did recover and was more and more able to cope with
walking on her own. As long as i watched her i could leave
her to make her own way up and down the garden. i
remember one day i let her out and was watching her rootle
around the grass when the telephone rang. When i came
back, Bracken was running up and down the hall crying.
'What's the matter?' i asked. He rushed out into the back
garden, whining and barking. And there was Emma. She'd
fallen over on the grass and had been unable to get up.
Bracken was so upset. He ran round her in circles, nuzzling
her with his nose, licking her, trying to encourage her to get
back on to her feet and then running back and barking at me,
as if appealing to me to do something quickly. From that
moment on he became her slave - standing over her while
she ate her dinner to make sure that Buttons didn't pinch
any, escorting her up the garden and back. But it wasn't
until Emma was much, much better, when she began to wear
her collar and lead again to go for little walks, that Bracken
took on yet another role.
6o
CHAPTER EIGHT
BRACKEN IIAD FOUND his vocation in life. He changed from
a mischievous Labrador into a responsible adult dog and
decided he must look after Emma. The first rtiorning that
Emma was well enough to go for a short walk, Bracken
insisted on coming along too. Buttons wasn't worried as she
was still nursing her puppies. As soon as we stepped out of
the front door, Bracken took Emma's lead in his mouth. Far
be it for me to say that Bracken actually knew Emma
couldn't see and that he could guide her - i don't know
whether dogs have that much intelligence - but all i know is
that he wanted to have the lead and walk her down the drive.
He was really thrilled. His tail waved high up irl the air and
he had a look of total self-sacrifice written all over his face.
Emma's pace was that of a snail compared to Bracken but he
wasn't worried. He slowed down to suit her. Ernma wanted
to stop and sniff every piece of grass and every gate-post.
Bracken stopped too and sat down, patiently waiting for her.
I've always taught Bracken to sit at kerbs, probably
because Emma always did and it was the natural thing for
me to do, so, at the first kerb Bracken sat down. Emma
didn't. She wasn't very keen on sitting - her back legs
weren't pliable enough to keep standing and sitting down at
kerbs. Emma carried on, trying to cross the road, but
Bracken was most upset about this and sat firrn. He turned
to look at me with the expression on his face that said, Well,
I'm sitting at the kerb. What are we going to do about
Emma? But Emma was undaunted, she tried to cross the
road. If Bracken hadn't been such a big, heavy dog, I'm sure
she would have achieved it. But she didn't. She had to wait
until i gave Bracken the okay that all was clear.
Bracken behaved like a true gentleman while he was
6 i
i"~
takiiig Emma for her walks. He even ignored other dogs,
which, for him, took an awful lot of self-control. A stray
niongrel came up and started to show great interest.
Bracken gave it a sideloiig glance and a low growl but,
i Emma along the
ivithout further ado, cont'nued to take
pavement. He had, of late, become very stroppy with strange
dogs, especially when he went for his walks in the park. He
seemed to be more protective towards me than towards
Buttons or Emma, and if any dog came near me he would
walk towards it, stiff legged, hackles raised and tail held up
in the air. If it refused to go away he made it even more plain
by attacking it. This became a big worry to me. i hate to see
ilasty dogs and although Bracken was completely obedient
>
and would never run off and attack any dog, i still had to be
on my guard and try not to let other dogs come near me,
which was extremely difficult. i only had to raise my voice to
a strange dog to tell it to go away, and that was the cue for
Bracken to fly after it to make sure that it did. Of course, he
was an entire dog and had already sired a litter of puppies.
i had visions of him being a stud dog. His puppies had
been so nice and one had been accepted to be a guide dog,
but i had to re-think my ideas about this. He was obviously
beginning to find his feet as an adult male and I'd got to do
something about it. After very careful thought, i took a leaf
out of the guide-dogs' book and decided to have him
castrated. It worked like a charm. He became even more
loving and devoted to all of us as a family, still kept his patrol
with Emma up and down the garden and stopped attacking
strange dogs. It was a relief to me. I'm surprised how many
people think this is cruel because i believe the opposite: that
it's cruel to keep an entire dog if you're not going to supply
him with bitches. You're asking him to live the life of a monk
and, surely, a dog wouldn't choose that life for himself.
Bracken still fancies the ladies, of course, but now it's a
pleasant chat and a tall-waving session. i would also not
hesitate to advise anyone to have their bitch spayed if they
have no intention of breeding from her. So many bitches go
through a lot of heartache and illness, coming in season time
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2
after time without ever being allowed to have a litter of
puppies. Many of them have false pregnancies and some of
them even produce milk at the right time. Surely this is far
more cruel than having a bitch spayed? We should take a
lead from some of the Continental countries who charge a
higher licence fee for dogs that aren't castrated or spayed.
Perhaps that would also cut down the many unwanted
puppies there are in England.
f- f- IThe
more i know of dogs, the more amazed i become at their
differences in character and their variation in intelligence.
Even one breed, like Labradors, can be just as varied as
human beings, both in their looks and temperament. Mocha
was the u y that made this absolutely plain to me. Mocha
is, of course - yes, you've guessed it - another chocolate
Labrador. i saw her advertised in one of our dog magazines
and i couldn't resist her. Poor Don wasjust a little perturbed
that we suddenly had four dogs but, optimistic as usual, i
assured him that sooner or later we'd find a nice house with
lots of land and we wouldn't even notice we'd got four dogs
then. To this very day, three years after purchasing Mocha
as a puppy, I still haven't quite fathomed her temperament
out completely. i can't really believe that she's as stupid as
she makes out.
The very first day of her arrival, unlike most new puppies
who gallop round the garden in delighted excitement,
Mocha walked amiably up and down, taking no notice of
anything around her, accepting the fact that there were three
other big dogs. She appeared to be in a trance-like state as
she sat in the middle of the lawn staring contentedly at
nothing in particular, while Bracken and Buttons were
racing up and down trying to work out what this new puppy
was and what it was going to do. Emma, of course, took no
notice whatsoever and cleared off to her usual place on the
settee in the lounge. But, for all that, Mocha made up for her
lack of intelligence with a super nature. i don't think i shall
ever meet a kinder, more obedient dog. She just doesn't
know how to be disobedient.
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Although i don't feel my dogs are human beings, i like to
treat them all with respect. This is the way you get the best
out of your dog and i can't help seeing human characteristics
in them. Mocha reminds me of a little orphan child
whenever she sits g~zing into the distance with those big,
liquid brown eyes of hers. She is transformed in my mind to a
little girl of about eight, with red hair and freckled cheeks
and one of those big floppy hats which were in fashion before
the war, blue ribbons dangling. i imagine her dreaming of
what she'll do when she is old enough to leave the orphanage
and start a life of her own, of the handsome man she'll meet
and marry. And that handsome man, I'm sure, is Bracken. i
think it's because i can see now that i read so much into the
dogs' expressions and their eyes can make me imagine so
many things. If I'd seen all my life, perhaps i wouldn't take
notice of this, but eyes are so fascinating. Bracken's show
reams of intelligence. i have a picture of him being in the last
World War, leading a squadron of fighter-bombers, telling
all his many girlfriends that he was winning the war singlehanded.
He's smart, upright, always joking and a real ladykiller.
i can see him in my mind as clearly as i would a close
friend, combing his hair in the mirror and laying it down
withjars full of Brylcreem and making sure every hair was in
place, brushing his uniform down meticulously before going
ofr to lead his squadron into battle. I can also see his last
battle over Germany as those impetuous hazel eyes of his
dart to and fro while he watches the attackers, and sadly his
plane is shot down in flames. This scene is so vivid in my
mind that sometimes it really worries me. i wasn't around in
the war-time and for me to have the feeling of being in that
fighter-bomber with Bracken, and feeling the fear that he
did, is very uncanny.
I'm rather glad Buttons doesn't know how i see her,
because it really isn't a very nice picture. i get flashes of her
wearing curlers and a hairnet, leaning on the garden fence
gossiping to anybody that passes rather than doing housework,
always going out on a Saturday night to have a right
old booze-up, then returning home to nag a poor, weedy
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little husband. i had no strange notions about Emma,
probably because when i was blind i always thought of her as
a person. i always talked to her as we went along the road and
i often remember people telling me what a beautiful dog she
was. i would stop and think, But i haven't got a dog. Then I'd
realize they meant Emma. i am sure this all sounds - even to
the most ardent of dog lovers - a lot of sentimental slosh and i
hasten to point out that I'm not sentimental about my dogs.
They are treated as dogs and they're made to behave
themselves and to be obedient, and they are not at all
spoilt.
I'm not quite sure if i believe in reincarnation but it's
worth thinking about: whether we have to prove our worth
before we go to heaven (or the other place for that matter) by
coming back as various things - dogs, cats, horses, whatever
you like to mention. I'm sure th
at some of you at one time or
another must have looked at an animal and felt it reminded
you of someone that you knew. i often get that feeling.
Perhaps i should see a psychiatrist.
I learnt such a lot more after having Mocha about the
temperament of each dog and how the approach to training
had to be so totally different. i had to be very cart-ful about
the intonations in my voice when i spoke to Mocha. i
couldn't tell her that she was a good girl excitedly. It had to
be done very calmly. i learnt this quite early on. If i forgot
for a moment and sounded at all excited when talking to her,
Mocha would go berserk, leaping up into the air as if she
were trying to jump clean over my head. Usually she didn't
quite make it and hit me straight in the face. She did this one
evening and knocked my front tooth clean out. Luckily it had
been capped or i would have been in agony, but i was
horrorstruck when i saw my front tooth sailing across the
kitchen. Bracken, who had been dozing in the corner, also
saw it and leapt up with the speed of light, grabbed it and ate
it. i felt such a fool when I arrived at the dentist and told him
my tooth had come out and the dog had eaten it, but it wasn't
the first time I'd had to tell someone a similar story. Bracken
had once eaten one of my contact lenses - not the crunchy
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enough to drive so i had to make do with ringing the estate
agents, trying not to sound too excited, and making an
appointment to view the following afternoon. There was
pouring rain and a howling gale as we turned the corner at
the top of Barton Hill to see our kennels but, even in those
sort of weather conditions, i knew I wanted it. i knew i
wanted to live there, to have as many dogs as i wanted and to
be able to run a boarding kennels.
'This is it,' i said as i got out of the car.
'You haven't seen it yet,' said Don, always a little more
conservative than i.
'But look at all those fields. i think the property stretches
up to that ridge of trees over there.'
'Hmm, quite a size.' Don seemed to be impressed.
Mrs Wood, the owner, greeted us at the door and asked us