Walking Ollie, and Blondi

I'm not one of life's big readers, it must be said. I used to be, in my younger days, when time was something that had no monetary value, when hours were counted by the number of new girlfriends I had, and responsibility stretched as far as having to tidy my bedroom once a week. These days, give me a non-fiction text book, and I'll read it from cover to cover, but fiction? That's for girls and men who cross-dress on Sunday lunchtimes and call themselves Stephanie.

However, three days ago, my partner came home, carrying a mysterious green carrier bag. Naturally, I quizzed her on the contents of the portable cloaking device. She told me she had purchased some more books. (She is an avid reader and thus beats me hands-down in most general knowledge quizzes, it should be noted.) "Ah", I replied, before returning to my business, showing no further interest in pursuing the titles.

A few hours later, as I sat plotting world-dominance at my computer, (something that I have done for years, to no avail) I heard small waves of chuckling wafting in from the patio. My ears perked. This required investigation. I crept to the living room door and peeked through to see my partner sat outside, basking in the unusually (for this time of year) bright warm sun, reading a book and laughing. Had the next part not have happened, I would have been happy to leave it at that and return to my world domination exploits. But it did happen. It had to didn't it? I noticed the picture of a dog on the front cover. Really, I tried to fight it. My brain was shouting "Don't get drawn in. Retreat! Pull back, man!" Alas, my body took on a will of its own and I ventured forth. "What's it about?", I quizzed, hoping that she might, understanding that I read extremely quickly, say something like "Here, I think you might like it. I'll read it tomorrow on the train." Did she? No. She just made my suffering worse.

She explained to me that it was a story titled "Walking Ollie" by Stephen Foster. "It's about a man who wasn't particularly into dogs who purchased a Lurcher and how wild the Lurcher is and how, despite is best efforts, the dog doesn't like him.", she continued, seemingly unaware of my now green eyes. "It's about dogs?", I quizzed. "Yeah, I think you..." Ah-ha! I shouted (internally) she's caving in. I get the book now! "might like it"., she added. Was that it? No "so why don't you read it now, as you're such a quick reader and I'll read it tomorrow on the train"? ******. This called for a cunning Plan B!

Plan B was drafted with cub-scout precision. I would wait until she took a break and then I would read the preface, just to see what it was about. I felt sure that if I read that, I would get the nonsense out of my system. And so, the moment came, and I put Plan B into action.

She put the book down and ventured out of the room. She's left the book on a chair in the corner of the room, face down, with the current page touching the cushion. I slipped my finger into the book in order that I might place it back after I read the preface before she returned. (Yes, it's true, I really do read that quickly.) I read it, and instantly fell in love with it.

A few minutes had passed and I heard her footsteps; she was returning. My brain began to race with a dozen plans, some more practical than others: I could set the book alight so that neither of us could read it, thus I wouldn't feel excluded. I could hide it and start scolding Blondi, our German Shepherd, for having eaten it, and then take it outside to read, or I could stick to that children's favourite - just don't look up and hope you don't get spotted. I would go with that one. Children have been doing this successfully at bedtimes for decades. I had no reason to doubt its effectiveness.

Through the corner of my eye, I could see her drawing nearer. "Ah, she's going to ask for it back, I know she is.", I worryingly thought to myself. "Want some lunch?", she asked. This was a marked Homer Simpson "Woo Hoo" moment. Plan B complete! Huston, we have the book. Repeat, we have the book! "Er, yes", I replied. "Salad pittas would be nice.", I added, without looking up. Remember, if you can't see the issue, it doesn't exist. Ask any petulant child. Talking of children; I recall telling one off once and of all the things he could have said in response, he chose "I will throw something at you. Something wooden". Why he chose wood as his preferred material, I never did quite work out. Perhaps, given his very young age, he had to take his own strength into account, and figured that in terms of 'bang for buck', his best bet would be wood.

Anyway, within just a few minutes, my lunch arrived. This gave rise to one of those clumsy moments. How could I keep the book and grasp my lunch at the same time? This could easily end up being one of those ransom scenarios where she would have to hand the lunch over to me as I handed over the book. My mind began to think in a panic; "What should I do? I know, eyes down, hold the hand out and hope she just hands over the lunch without requesting the book in return." Sure enough, it worked. She handed over the lunch without fuss (though I was convinced she was planning to launch a surprise attack). It seems that I am alone in my deviousness and that my partner doesn't think as lowly as I do. Actually, I think I knew this already.

Then came that other awkward moment that many a reader will tell you about. New paperbacks are unrivalled in their springiness. You open the page, and if you don't weld it open and then happen to lift just the smallest slither of finger from the page, it jumps back and the book closes on you, losing your position.

By this time I was really hooked into the book, and I mean really hooked. But I was hungry too. I did that thing that you see people on trains do. I tried to lean forwards, to place my elbows on the book, eat, and carry on reading at the same time. That didn't work as I'm too gangly, and ended up looking like I was doing that rocking thing that many autism sufferers do . I finally managed to hold the book between my knees and read it from a small distance. Even that wasn't perfect as I had to keep putting the sandwich down to turn the page. There's an invention waiting to be dreamed up here, I swear there is.

And now, I have read the book, and so too has my partner, I'm pleased to say. This book is absolutely perfect for anyone who has ever rescued a dog and is aware of the trials and tribulations that can come about as a result of it.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Walking-Olli.../dp/1904977529

The author is very clever. As I was reading it, I kept thinking, "I know this guy. I know I know him". As it turns out, I don't. However, his writing is so casual that you really do feel, as a dog walker, you've passed him a thousand times over many months, through howling winds, freezing snow, and torrential rains. He is each one of us with 'problem dogs'. I really do recommend the book.

However, the story doesn't end there. Inspired by the story of Ollie, and more importantly, the nonchalant attitude of Ollie's owner, I made a decision this morning before I took Blondi for her walk. Today was the day that I was going to try letting her off the leash to run around the field.

For those who don't know our story, Blondi was a rescue GSD who came to us last May, with a desperate aggression towards others, a steam-train puller on the leash, no recall, and just "sit" recognition to her name.

During this time, we've had Rob Alleyne, from Dog Borstal over, been training her like training is going out of fashion, and just wondering why we ever decided to make our lives so much more difficult in the first place. Today, she doesn't pull on the leash at all, and is actually a real pleasure to have on the leash. When passing other dogs, there is still agitation, but it's rarer and rarer that she barks at them or lunges at them. Recall is great around the garden but largely untested in the big wide world due to her aggression towards other dogs.

However, today, I was determined. Blondi would experience the feeling of the wind rushing around her ears, and the unbridled freedom of the wide open space as she bolted around the very large field with complete abandonment.

She and I approached the field. The clinking of her long-link chain collar (she slips every other collar type devised by Man) grew faster as her excitement built up. Secretly, I think she knew that something special was coming as usually we avoid the field most of time.

I looked around cautiously. My neck stretched up like a meer-cat, checking for other dogs and people. Blondi is great with people, but in that field, if you see people, then that's a good sign that a dog is close by too. I could see two people on the very far end of the field, but they were quite some distance away. I looked around once more, just to be sure. "Shall I?", I quizzed.

Without any further ado, I released the leash and stood in awe as she ran around like a dog should be! As a grown man, I came about as close to tears as I like to come, I think. I tested the recall, and while not great, she came back eventually. I wasn't expecting brilliance, as I was sure she would want to make the most of the opportunity. I could have stood and watched her for hours, but I could see the other dogs getting closer. I'm a born worrier and the last thing I like to do is cause trouble for others dog walkers and so I placed her back on the leash.

I could, I suppose, place a muzzle on her, but she came to us with one of those big awful basket muzzles and I've always hated them. I think it sends out the wrong signal to people and I just feel that with the right control and fore-thought, they're not really required. But, never say never, as they say. If it allows her to run around without the ability to harm other dogs, then maybe it's time I revised that....

Either way, we'll do it again tomorrow, and it was, regardless of how short the experience, a wonder to see!

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