Week 14, Day 4 (Winterlea Rum & Cloves)

What on earth's THAT, you ask. That's The Wobble's pedigree name. Daft innit ;-) He's a purebred Golden Retriever, and when he was registered I asked that he be called Winterlea 'Danny Boy', and have no idea why he ended up with such strange moniker. He's always been a Wobble, although sometimes we call him Danny.

He's an old dog now, but he's led a very interesting life.

When he was five months old, he was attacked by a pit bull cross which nearly ended his life. I was taking him for a walk to the beach, when suddenly a dog rushed out from a driveway and went for him. Poor Wob was just a scrap of fluff and friendliness, and had no idea how to protect himself from something many times his age, weight and muscle mass. The owner of the attacking dog just stood there screaming at her dog while he threw Wob around like so much limp meat. Wobble would have died that day if not for the quick actions of some passing men in vans (I have no idea where all those tradesmen and their vans came from, but suddenly they just appeared in the road). There were at least half a dozen of us trying to separate the dogs, which was impossible. One guy even grabbed a length of pipe out of his van and started laying into the pit bull to get it to release the puppy. At the same time, I dived in and grabbed Wobble and pulled.. and he thanked me by suddenly learning what to do with his teeth. He laid my hands open pretty good, across my fingers, under & between the joints and through my palm.

Someone called the police, and they turned up just as the bad dog's owner (or the bad owner of the vicious dog.. you decide) whisked him away in a car. It was obvious that I was bitten by my own dog because a pitty would have done far more damage than Wob did (I probably would have lost fingers, not just have had them shredded). No charges could be laid against the owners of the pitty, but the neighbours were very kind to Wob and me, and helped us clean up all the blood. It turns out that many small dogs and cats had fallen prey to this particular dog, but this was the first attack witnessed by so many, so technically was the dog's 'first offence'.

The dog ranger never did get in touch with me, so I have no idea if any action was taken against the owners.

Anyhoo, my poor puppy was in a terrible state, and I wasn't much better. Such was my shock that I managed to back into the police car on my way out of the park, but they kindly forgave me for that. First stop - the vet, and get the puppy some medical attention. The vet was out and his wife was reluctant to take Wobble without his consult. I insisted, and finally she relented because the crazed looking woman dripping with blood & dog pee was refusing to get treatment herself until the puppy was in medical supervision. I'm glad I insisted - it turned out Wob had a haemmorhage and would have died had we returned after the doc stitched me up.

Getting stitched was hysterical. Docs don't like stitching dog bites, but in my case they had no choice. The doctor wanted to inject me with painkillers and I kept saying "just bloody stitch me already". Back and forth we went, neither opinion willing to give an inch. In the finish Wendy and I had to make it really clear that he either stitched me without anaesthetic or I would walk out untreated. (He asked Wendy afterwards what I'd have done if he'd tried to inject me, and she replied "She'd have decked you, mate!")

The wounds went septic, which led to many days of fun fun fun.. but all came right in the end with antibiotics and soaks in sea water. Wob was none the worse except for some shaved patches and stitches. My scars are faded now, and his are hidden under mountains of hair.

Scroll forward a couple of months and Wayne & I are courting by this stage. Wob and I had stayed the weekend at Wayne's place. We thought Wob was safe behind the back fence, and were surprised to be woken early on Saturday morning by a neighbour saying "your dog is annoying the cricketers in the park, I suggest you rescue them from him".

Wayne discovered the Wobble who in turn had discovered that cricketers do this marvelous thing where the bright red ball goes hurtling off across the field. He'd stolen the ball and wouldn't give it back (which apparently totally stuffs things up in cricket because you're not supposed to change balls on your whim or a dog's). Wobble was covered in red marks where they'd hurled other balls at him, and he was having a wonderful time. Not so the cricketers.. Wayne's face was as red as the dog's sides when he brought our wayward puppy home.

That's why we put up the massive gates across the driveway (see the post about Super Adder).

Wobble loves everyone, and has no judgement or discernment. There was a guy up the road who gave me the creeps (and Wayne as well, which is rare for a man). This guy kept finding excuses to call in on me unexpectedly, just to chat (and I suspect, to try to convert me to Christianity or his version thereof). Wandering Xians I don't mind so much (the professional ones are really good entertainment for a bored witch), but this guy set off too many internal radars and all the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. Ladies.. you know what I mean. There was something definitely 'off' about him, but nothing you could point to.

One particular day, El Creepo was passing and Wob rushed out to greet him. EC looked at me and said "Your dog is inviting me in".
I replied "The opinions of the dog do not reflect those of the management", dragged the dog inside, and shut the door in his face. I wish he could say he got the message after that, but his visits did become less frequent.

Wob is so pleased to see people, he always forgets every single bit of training I've drummed into him, reducing me to either hauling him off people by his collar, screaming at him to get OFF that person and don't you DARE piddle on them!, or (if I know they are coming), locking him up before they get here. He's damn embarrassing, and never learns.

For a smart dog, he's a moron when he wants to be.

People don't help matters either. "Oooo he's so cute" they gush, making a big fuss over him and making me feel like a right bitch for trying to get him under control. Of course they wish they hadn't interfered when he pisses all down their clothes in his excitement, but until they are so annointed, they fail to get the message of 'my dog, my rules'. Maybe I should tell them he bites? That might make them more willing to cooperate before it all turns to custard. Bite schmite.. you're more likely to drown in his drool.

(Tamsin on the other hand, does exactly what she's told, when she's told. Well.. mostly. She can try to over-rule me if she thinks the person is dangerous. That's a mongrel for you.. she hasn't had the brains bred out of her).

Some of Wobble's highlights thus far include:

** Launching himself at top speed down our town driveway, and into the open door of a parked car, and snuggling up next to the old man who was waiting for his wife (visiting next door). The look on the old guy's face as this huge mass of hair and drool stampeded towards him made it clear he'd seen the movie "Cujo". Wob, for his part, make himself comfortable in their car and grinned his fool head off. We managed to coax him out eventually, much to the man's relief.

** He ... um... gets turned on by sheepskin. Always has. Friends know not to wear Ugg boots around Wob, otherwise they find their feet being shagged within an inch of their life. (Yes he is neutered.. the dog, not the friends). I have to keep Wob firmly in control at all times and not let him wander, because I do NOT want to have to explain to a farmer "Yes he was molesting your sheep... but not in the usual way. I promise the sheep will live. It may need counseling, but it will live."

** He is terrified of cats. This is due to Boots (sire of Greebo) who decided that a rambunctious puppy was not allowed to run free in HIS house, and would spring out from behind doors, sit on his haunches, then box the puppy around the face repeatedly with both front paws. While the puppy was still whimpering with its eyes closed, Boots would whisk himself back behind the door. Poor pup would blink back to visibility wondering what or who had attacked him. His nose told him it was a cat, and that's all, so he's convinced any cat can take him down. If a cat takes his dog bed, he is too frightened to push them out or over. So funny to watch a huge dog mincing into the farthest edge of his bed, in slowest motion so not to disturb or wake the sprawled kitty.

** He is fixated on toys. He has had several 'bunnies', and when he was a puppy he would steal the cat's food (now we know why Boots felt aggrieved), but leave Bunny lying face down in the empty cat bowl as if to say "Bunny did it." The various 'Bunny's' found life hard on the farm, as Wob would forget where he left them (in a cow pat, usually), but suddenly remember several rainy days later when the next visitor showed up. Wob would disappear, then reappear wielding a soggy, filthy disgusting rag thing and THRUST it up at the visitor in delight. I can't think why no one was terribly excited to be introduced to his dearest friend.

** Nearly every night he gets nightmares, and has them loud and long. You dare not wake him physically.. he'd bite you in sleepy self defence. So you call out to him louder and louder (from a safe distance) until finally he wakes enough to break him out of the nightmare. I don't know what it is that haunts him, but whatever it is, it's pretty bad. Is it memories of the pitty, or Boots? We'll never know and he's not saying.

** He has the biggest fangs of any dog I've ever seen. Huge... half as long as my fingers, most of them. Lucky for me he was only a baby when he bit me, eh! In fact as Goldens go, he's big all round. Not fat though; I like my cats fat and my dogs lean.

He's an old fool now, just as immature, just as relentlessly cheerful as ever. However he's showing his age in his back and hips, and he's starting to lose patience with just about everything. I guess being the world's most optimistic dog can wear you out eventually.

Some day I might tell you about Wobble and the stray.. but that's a bit raunchy for a public board. Damn funny though... but not in the way you might expect.