We’ve acquired a dog. It all happened quite fast. After months of ruminating and checking various websites for dogs, all of which must have come with a bar of gold, such were the prices, we were presented with an opportunity to help a friend.
Buying or rescuing dogs has become a great difficulty in the UK, with waiting lists as far as the eye can see and puppies baring astronomical costs.
It seemed like it was a lost cause for my partner and I and we had resigned ourselves to waiting until doggy fever cooled down a bit and normality returned, along with more reasonable prices.
It is understandable why dogs and pets in general have become so coveted over the past year. While we’ve all been confined to our homes during various lockdowns, having a bit of company in the form of a furbaby is a real benefit, both mentally and physically. Going for walks, throwing a ball and looking after another little creature can bring a sense of purpose and is a great distraction from the stresses of life.
Families bought puppies to keep their children entertained and to keep their own sanity intact and dog breeders began to see the pound signs. In the past few months the prices have risen and the pleasure of being a dog owner has become more and more out of reach for many people.
Then again, what is going to happen when people do return to their places of work and the dogs are no longer the fun furballs they were, but a burden? There is a sense that these dogs will then be given up for adoption and rescue centres will be overrun with unwanted animals. It’s so sad to think of these animals being seen purely as a commodity for people to benefit financially from. However they have brought immeasurable joy to many people who have needed it more than ever the past year.
The little chap we have decided to take in is a cross breed. Our neighbour had told us about her father who was struggling with one of his two dogs and that he was thinking of having him rehomed.
We had met the dog previously and thought we’d give him a week’s trial if her father agreed.
Little Benji is 13 years of age — a very old man in dog terms. He is small and stout and has short fur, with tufts of grey around his small beak and neck. The rest of him is mostly varying shades of brown. He has a twinkle in his eye, but we’re not sure if it’s his sparkling personality or the beginning of cataracts. He no longer responds to his name, yet he can hear the rustle of a crisp packet from a mile away. He loves to sleep, but will also chase a ball until his little legs give way.
We’ve had him for about two weeks now and we’ve decided to keep him, give him a nice life until he shuffles off his mortal coil. Although I don’t think he’s going anywhere soon, there’s still life left in the old dog yet, as they say.
Benji is a mixed breed, but what mix I don’t know for certain. I think there’s a bit of cat in him too though, because as soon as I sit down he’ll jump up, settle on me and fall asleep, whether that’s on a leg or an arm. He’s very loving, and will refuse to accept being brushed off the sofa, and will insist on lying next to whichever human is currently occupying it.
Despite the sudden increase in responsibility with feeding and taking Benji for walks, it’s nice having a little dog wandering around. And the fact that he is an older dog and not a puppy is an added bonus — none of the training or ‘accidents’. Well, not yet. Watch this space.
