Gone to the dogs?

Dog owners can see no fault in their pets, and our dogs will always come first, writes Melosina Lenox-Conyngham

Dog owners can see no fault in their pets, and our dogs will always come first, writes Melosina Lenox-Conyngham

The bishop was standing by his chair, about to say grace, when my Uncle bellowed, "Basket, into your basket at once Sir!"

The expression on the bishop's face changed to astonished bewilderment, and then to alarm. He looked around nervously. Chocolate, the brown Labrador, was slinking reluctantly towards the corner.

Uncle Robert, a formidable figure, bent his head respectfully in thanksgiving, unaware of being the cause of any consternation. The bishop took a deep breath and galloped through the grace. Chocolate immediately abandoned his basket and took up a position beside the bishop and turned liquid, imploring eyes on him. No beggar could have pleaded for a morsel of food with more eloquence or with more duplicity, as we knew that the ham now about to be carved had that morning been snatched from the kitchen table and later retrieved from under the spare room bed.

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Uncle Robert remarked that there was scarcely a mark on it which showed what a wonderful mouth Chocolate had for a gundog - "like a velvet bag" he added proudly.

Dogs may be man's best friend, but my relations - and most of my acquaintances - are dogs' best friends. Not to like dogs is worse than being a murderer, actually several degrees in the scale of evil below a murderer. I can picture being told: "I met such a nice man on the train, who told me he bred bull terriers. He had had awful problems finding homes for them when he was sent to prison for killing his wife. He said bull terriers were so gentle; they wouldn't hurt a fly. They just have a bad press."

Often it is difficult to differentiate between the children of the house and the dogs, especially as they both have the same sort of names - Leo, Arthur, Emily, Lucy, Brenda and Charlie.

We often hear the phrase "Arthur was out all last night." If the night has been spent looking for him, it is a dog, but if "his bed was not been slept in", it is probably a son. Some of the names, such as Camellia, Honey and Choggy, cause problems when the dog goes missing. Go round calling Honey, Honey, or Choggy, Choggy and it is surprising who comes out of the bushes.

Dog owners can see no fault in their pets, however old and smelly: "Oh I know you won't mind, I've brought Winnie . . . Well perhaps it would be best if you put your dog outside to stop it yapping as it doesn't seem to like Winnie . . . Poor Winnie, it isn't your fault that the nasty dog does not like you, we all love you!"

I knew a sheepdog terrier cross (and cross it was) that ate every non-metal part of a car right up to and including the front seat, but if left anywhere else, it ate more valued things, such as doors, curtains, sheep and postmen. Even my own darling has bitten my very forgiving postman just as he was telling me how much he liked dogs.

There are Alsatians in Louth that are reputed to take the arm off you if you put your hands below your waist. This makes any gathering at the house fraught with danger and the terrified guests stand stiffly against the walls like frescoed acolytes, hands clasped together as if in prayer.

Our dogs come first - and it is definitely dogs before women and children. Some time ago a big house nearby was raided by a gang and most of the family tied up. In the subsequent enquiry, the absence of the dogs was much commented on until the youthful son of the house revealed that he had kept them in his bed in case the raiders should hurt them.

If one visits any of these canine owners, there is nothing to sit on except an upright chair - the sofas, armchairs and any heat outlet are taken up by the dogs, who growl menacingly when approached.

In desperation, to keep our dogs off the sofa, we put mousetraps on it, but all we caught was Mrs Creevy, a plump lady collecting for the ISPCA, who sank down before we could stop her - she bounced up like a tennis ball with a squeal, but was most forgiving. "No, no I am not hurt at all, it was the shock, yes, yes a cup of tea with plenty of sugar. You know there is a humane mouse trap that does not hurt the little creatures - they are enticed into a cage from which they cannot get out until released in the countryside."

The Pekinese snuggled lovingly up to her and deftly removed the biscuit off the plate she was holding in her hand.

Furry friends have their uses, such as acting as hot water bottles in large country houses in the small hours, but they do grow, and one often wakes to find oneself on the edge of the bed while the miniature dachshund that was warming one's feet has become a St Bernard and the bed has shrunk to the size of a cot.

They are also useful for conversational purposes - there is always something to say about a dog or, in the case of the sycophantic guest, to admire about a dog. At a dinner party where there was much said about dear old Towser we wondered why he was not at his usual post beside his owner. Between the second and third course, Towser was found dead under the table. I hasten to add that it was age, not any tidbit, that had caused Towser's demise, but it did rather break up the party as the hosts were only just able to hold back their tears and no one felt like tucking into meringues and gooseberry fool even though the corpse had been removed.

Every dog has his day or actually many, many days in which to dominate his owners, demand food, exercise and love, which he returns by eloping with the bitch two miles away, disappearing down a rabbit hole or eating so much that he looks like a moving table. No one who owns a dog can wear black as clothes, however carefully kept and brushed, retain a hairy veneer (even black hairs show up in the light). Holiday arrangements for one's pets cost more than three weeks in Mauritius, and I have to collect my own post. But who would be without a doggy companion?