As is probably fairly obvious by now, I’m not much of a dog person, not having grown up with pooches, attended college or university with young pups, or even hosted them at my home on more than a handful of occasions, so when the opportunity arose to visit some friends down in Cambridgeshire, who did have that elusive doggy know-how, I couldn’t resist…
Now, Huntingdon, where Tash and John live is a solid couple of hours in the car, with a clear run straight down the A1. It’s a trip I’ve done quite a few times, as part of long weekend visits, but if one thing can be relied upon… its that the drive there and back will not be a clear run, it will involve at least half-an-hour of congestion and queues, often for no easily discernible reason.
That said, when its just me, as long as the radio is working and I’ve remembered to make cup of tea before setting off, well and extra few mins travel time hardly matters.
With the Friday and Monday booked off from work, to make it into a nice long weekend, I didn’t think much more about the trip until the evening before when I realised I was going to need to be a bit more organised.
Asking Pudding to sit in the back of the car for a couple of hours didn’t seem unreasonable, but what if the traffic delayed us by more than expected?
I’d just been thinking about getting the car ready, but now I realised I needed to get Pudding ready too, and that meant finding time for a decent walk before setting off, a few snacks and some time for her to calm down before setting off.
But, I’d realised in time, so I was confident of a smooth getaway as soon as the rush-hour traffic died down… until the following morning.
It was freezing the following morning, the world had been coated in a layer of frost so thick it looked like snow, which was perfect in one respect, I could go for a walk with my houseguest, even enjoy twenty minutes of ball throwing with no worries about either of us coming back with muddy paws or boots.
Shaky-footage of Ms Pudding in action!
Unfortunately, it was also cold enough for the car to completely freeze up, including the doors and boot. which I had to defrost just to be able to get into the car, let alone clear the windscreen.
An hour later than planned, with a bit more sitting around and drinking tea than I’d been expecting, and we were off. Ms Pudding was installed complete with her bed on the back seats, and appeared to be taking the whole adventure in her stride.
Before we knew it, the radio was on, and we’d made our way to the A1, closely followed by a short stint queuing in traffic due to some roadworks, and then we were cruising, practically all the way to Huntingdon.
I did stop briefly in Stamford, after noticing Ms Pudding’s dark fathomless eyes regarding me through the rear-view mirror, but after a five minute stroll and quick nibble on some dried sprats (for Pudding) and we were back on the road.
Half an hour later, and we were circling the village green outside Tash and John’s house, parking up the car and making our rather excitable way to their front door.
Now what I may have neglected to mention to Ms Pudding, was that Tasha had not only grown up with dogs in her life, she’d also recently adding a young pup to their family, in the form of Beauty a rather well bred Bichon Frize.
Neither Pudding or Beauty have much experience of sharing their home space with other dogs, so I was anticipating this little surprise for them both would go one of a few different ways.
I was just hoping that Ms Pudding wasn’t going to be too vigorous with young Beauty.
What I didn’t realise, is that the Bichon Frize, while small in stature, apparently have quite a bit of wild wolf… or possibly tiger in their ancestral line, and quite literally do not know the meaning of the word fear, or for that matter rest, sleep, mercy.
On the plus side, Tash and John have a comfortable home in a small village just outside Huntingdon, complete with lovely garden, easy access to the countryside, several dog friendly local hostelries and coffee shops, all connected by a very convenient, and by comparison with Leeds, a very flat and easy walking route just full of ball throwing opportunities.
A few hours later, and I’ve unloaded the car, enjoyed a coffee and catch-up with Tash and John, given Pudding a Beauty a chance to explore the garden together, and then settled down in front of a good fire in the lounge while John cooks the first of several warming wintry feasts that fill the weekend.
While my hosts are pottering around, I manage to grab a few minutes on the sofa with Pudding to discuss her impressions of the young pup that has been literally climbing all over her.
‘The Chase is strong in that one,’ she observes, in a very knowing way, as she glances over the arm of the chair for any sign of the energetic young thing that Tash is currently chasing around the garden.
‘The Chase?’ I ask, unsure of what she means. ‘You mean she’s full of energy?’
‘No, not that, or at least not just that. You know… The Chase!’ she replies, struggling to explain something that is apparently obvious.
‘Do you know the story of Jonathan Livingstone Seagull?’ she finally asks, when it becomes clear that I still have no conception of ‘The Chase’.
‘You mean the book by Richard Bach,’ I ask, probably a little more surprised than is polite.
‘Yes, that’s the one.’
‘The story of the Seagull that enjoys flying so much that he forgets to eat and rest?’ I ask, to try and demonstrate my understanding.
‘Oh, well that’s to put it rather weakly. I’d describe it as an exploration into the meaning of life… He doesn’t just enjoy flying, he lives to fly, he’s intoxicated by flying, mesmerised, fascinated…’
‘You mean like the pointy red dogs, the foxes?’ I ask, hopefully.
‘No, that’s different, I’ll explain that to you another time.
‘Look, Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, doesn’t just enjoy flying, he’s compelled to fly, he must fly higher and faster than he needs to get from one place to another, he does it purely for the joy of doing it… that’s The Chase.
‘Not all of our kind have it, some just enjoy a good run followed by a good snooze. But others like Beauty, they’ve got it in spades. I’m the same, I see a whisker face or pointy red dog, and before I know I’m off after them. I find the track of pink take or bouncy bushy tail and I need to try and catch them. I’ll bringing those balls back to you until my legs stop working, its all the chase.’
‘Hmm, I think I understand… but I’m not sure The Chase isn’t very strong in me, well, aside from the motorbikes and snowboards and the writing… I do dream about those when I’m not doing them, spend my time wishing I could spend more time doing any of them… oh hang on!’
‘Yes, I think you’re beginning to get it now,’ Pudding conceded, before the tiny puppy shaped tiger that is Beauty came bounding back into the room to terrorise us both.
‘I didn’t realise you did a lot of reading,’ I couldn’t help but ask, as a tiny set of surprisingly sharp teeth began chewing at my slipper.
‘I prefer audiobooks,’ Pudding replies absently, as she waits for the tiny terror to return its attention back to her. ‘You should consider them for you little cave on wheels, the one we travelled here in.’
.