While out and about with Betty the other day I met a dog walking acquaintance, got chatting, the substance of which I feel I need to share with someone- you will do.
I had returned from my dog walking stint in Sefton Park, dropped off Ziggy and as a treat decided to have an all day breakfast at a local cafe. It was warm enough to sit out and as the single pavement table was empty for a change it clinched the deal. Betty seemed pleased also and was sitting attentively for any titbits that came her way. It was here that I met up with a man I had seen around and about over the years, latterly walking his dog in the park and we regularly acknowledged each other pleasantly but that was about it. He was tickling Betty behind the ears when I asked after his own dog. I discovered two things, firstly that it was not his dog, that he was walking him for a neighbour and secondly that the dog was poorly at the moment with a bad leg so was on restricted activity. By now he was sitting down, the better to stroke Betty and also we had introduced ourselves by name. So I said to Peter that I thought the dog was his as at a previous meeting some years back he had a lovely little dog with him who looked a bit similar to the one he currently walks. He reminded me that this previous dog was black not tan and that the story about this dog is a real tragedy. Peter explained he has always had dogs but what happened with this dog had made him cautious about taking on the responsibility of another dog. He is a keen gardener and has an allotment at a nearby site. Some years ago a new plot holder at the adjacent plot had arrived and had some very strange plans for the plot. He built a structure on the site to house chickens that was modelled on Colditz, had a "scorched earth" policy for much of the rest of the plot and foxes were discovered in and around the site poisoned. Peters dog returned from the plot one day and was writhing around in agony, the vet diagnosed poisoning as the cause of the dogs subsequent death. Listening to this I wanted to poison the culprit but Peter seemed much more accepting that I think I could be. The neighbour continues to have a plot next door to his...phew!
So to his current charge, the tan dog. His neighbour is a young man who is too fond of the weed and having acquired a dog was failing to take it out. Peter could hear it whining and being shouted at all too regularly. The Mum of the young man asked Peter to help out with things so he began taking it out regularly to the park. The latest twist were the dog has become poorly,has required him in tortuous negotiations with the young man to care for a sick animal by visiting the vet. On cue "Mum" arrives at our table as he recounts how phantom trips to the vet have been made by the young lad requiring Peter again to take charge of things a sort treatment for the poor thing himself.
As I reflect now on Peter and what he told me I feel a mix of emotions; pity at the loss of his beloved best mate, admiration for his stoicism in continuing to help out with the tan dog despite the hurdles and anger that the legal framework for humane treatment is so hands off when it comes to investigating abuse such as what happened at the allotment site. Sad to say these events are not unique and can test the resilience of people with heart like Peter. There is a comments section in this blog, I really would be interested in hearing your thoughts on what I have recounted here...please help in making sense of this crazy world we live in.
I had returned from my dog walking stint in Sefton Park, dropped off Ziggy and as a treat decided to have an all day breakfast at a local cafe. It was warm enough to sit out and as the single pavement table was empty for a change it clinched the deal. Betty seemed pleased also and was sitting attentively for any titbits that came her way. It was here that I met up with a man I had seen around and about over the years, latterly walking his dog in the park and we regularly acknowledged each other pleasantly but that was about it. He was tickling Betty behind the ears when I asked after his own dog. I discovered two things, firstly that it was not his dog, that he was walking him for a neighbour and secondly that the dog was poorly at the moment with a bad leg so was on restricted activity. By now he was sitting down, the better to stroke Betty and also we had introduced ourselves by name. So I said to Peter that I thought the dog was his as at a previous meeting some years back he had a lovely little dog with him who looked a bit similar to the one he currently walks. He reminded me that this previous dog was black not tan and that the story about this dog is a real tragedy. Peter explained he has always had dogs but what happened with this dog had made him cautious about taking on the responsibility of another dog. He is a keen gardener and has an allotment at a nearby site. Some years ago a new plot holder at the adjacent plot had arrived and had some very strange plans for the plot. He built a structure on the site to house chickens that was modelled on Colditz, had a "scorched earth" policy for much of the rest of the plot and foxes were discovered in and around the site poisoned. Peters dog returned from the plot one day and was writhing around in agony, the vet diagnosed poisoning as the cause of the dogs subsequent death. Listening to this I wanted to poison the culprit but Peter seemed much more accepting that I think I could be. The neighbour continues to have a plot next door to his...phew!
So to his current charge, the tan dog. His neighbour is a young man who is too fond of the weed and having acquired a dog was failing to take it out. Peter could hear it whining and being shouted at all too regularly. The Mum of the young man asked Peter to help out with things so he began taking it out regularly to the park. The latest twist were the dog has become poorly,has required him in tortuous negotiations with the young man to care for a sick animal by visiting the vet. On cue "Mum" arrives at our table as he recounts how phantom trips to the vet have been made by the young lad requiring Peter again to take charge of things a sort treatment for the poor thing himself.
As I reflect now on Peter and what he told me I feel a mix of emotions; pity at the loss of his beloved best mate, admiration for his stoicism in continuing to help out with the tan dog despite the hurdles and anger that the legal framework for humane treatment is so hands off when it comes to investigating abuse such as what happened at the allotment site. Sad to say these events are not unique and can test the resilience of people with heart like Peter. There is a comments section in this blog, I really would be interested in hearing your thoughts on what I have recounted here...please help in making sense of this crazy world we live in.