Beautiful Angus

Sad news this week. After 17 and 1/2 years on the planet, the most gorgeous of Border Collies, Angus, has left us. His Mum called us with the news and explained how in the end he had become totally deaf and blind as well as incontinent. She knew it was time and made the trip we all dread to his lifelong vet. She spent a half hour with him before it was time, talking about all the great experiences he'd had in his life. We were included in that and feel very privileged to have been such an important part in the life of a most beautiful dog.

Angus was with us from the very start. I remember our first day of walking a pack and there were three black and white border collies. They all looked so alike to us, naive new pack leaders. How would we ever tell the difference? Of course they all had their own personalities and Angus' was pure heart. Every morning he would be waiting for us at his gate - where are they? where are they? Open the gate and straight out, a quick wee in the lane so as not to disgrace himself, then into the van to greet the others.

On the walks we always felt that Angus was somehow looking after us. He was a brilliant ballcatcher, loving to play, but he'd also be always aware of his responsibilities, rounding up the stragglers - come on, we're all a pack together, do your bit! It always felt safe with Angus there.

He did have one little special quirk, not shared by any other dog we've met. He loved a little white fluffy dog. Not just to look at, or cuddle up to. No, he saw a new little white fluffy coming his way and he felt an overwhelming need to round up the unsuspecting little fluffball - come on little thing, this way, this way, over here, now there you go, through the imaginary chute. We figured he saw them as little sheep and his genetics just kicked in.

Sometimes his Mum would go away and he would come to stay. Our dogs were all thrilled when Angus arrived, like some sort of God had deigned to join them. Socksy, our cat, on the other hand, would be most amused because he knew that for the duration of his stay, Angus would try to befriend him. This gave Socksy the much coveted opportunity to mess with the mind of a dog. It always went the same way. Angus would stare from a distance. Socksy would grant him a glance. Encouraged, Angus would move closer. Socksy would do that thing with his fur where it ripples up and down his back. Angus would take this as a sign, and move closer. Socksy would look him directly in the eye, get up, and turn his back before settling down facing in the other direction. Angus would sigh gratefully. This would go on for hours, days.

I remember the first day we became aware that something was wrong. We never had to worry about Angus on the walks, he was always rounding up the pack, checking what dangers or fun lay ahead, reporting on the others. Sure his legs had gotten a little wobbly and he needed help into the dog bus, but he still performed his duties with distinction. Then one day he was well behind the pack. We called him and while he heard the voice he could no longer tell which direction it came from, nor, it seemed, could he see too far ahead. He responded to the call by running to catch up with us, but entirely in the wrong direction. Our hearts broke. Our beautiful Angus was getting old.

From that day on, we reversed the roles of him looking after us and made a priority of looking out for him.

We are eternally grateful to have had this wonderful dog as a part of our lives. May he rest/play/round up the pack in peace and joy. We miss you Angus.

The Delight of Dogwalking

Starting to get a little concerned that this dogwalking stuff all sounds like a joyous piece of cake. The dogs themselves are a delight, the people we walk for are a delight, but there is the occasional moment that is anything but … a delight. Try this:

It’s a Tuesday, the start of a busy day. Mitzi is a Miniature Schnauzer. She has the unfortunate combination of the most delicate stomach known to dog and a predilection for eating poo. For this, of course, she has made Baci her role model. Aware that Baci has a better nose for finding freshly arrived poo or recently dead animal, she follows her around like a canine acolyte.

On this particular morning her tracking of the naughty Labrador pays off. She scores some poo. Ick.

Already I think you know where I’m heading with this but stick with it, because it may be even worse than you’re imagining.

Between the first walk and the second, there is dropping off of dogs and picking up of others. We would prefer that they get a bus to the park and meet us there but this has proved an unpopular concept thus far.

Mitzi is still in the dog bus, waiting to be dropped off. I go up to get Dixie and Sadie from their apartment, leaving Mitzi on the front seat next to Bichon Frise (a small white fluffy), Babooti. Back to our transport, I get Dixie and Sadie in and take my seat, ready for the next pickup.

Suddenly the stench hits. I look down. Great gobs of sticky, runny, Mitzi nutrition (regurgitated dog poo for those of you not following) all over Babooti, the cloth seat - say it again – cloth seat, and running down the side to the part under the seat from which nothing is ever recoverable – nice design there Mr Volkswagen.

Slightly agitated, I pickup Mitzi, lovingly, and gently deposit her in the back of the van, WHERE SHE SHOULD HAVE VOMITED IN THE FIRST PLACE … if she had ACCIDENTALLY eaten poo … WHICH SHE SHOULD NEVER HAVE DONE. Fullstop.

This gentle action of depositing her in the rear of the vehicle somehow causes runny regurgitated stinking dog poo to further find its way into my lap, onto my phone, and onto my hands. Too awful.

I know really really bad things happen to people in their lives but I truly believe this is the Everest of ick. I scream. I get out of the car. I look around. I’m the adult here. This really sucks. I cry. None of these actions cause the sticky runny regurgitated poo to clean itself up off the seat of the car, Babooti, under the seat, my phone, or me.

I contemplate calling 000 like those crazy Americans who call 911 because their Big Mac lacks special sauce. But I couldn’t possibly do that … my phone is covered in the unspeakable. I’m going to have to be a grown up. Gingerly I go to the back of the dog bus and find a towel. I start with myself but only serve to smear it further on my clothes. I contemplate throwing myself on the ground. Fortunately I realise this would only serve to draw attention to myself and pretty soon people would notice I'm covered in excrement that has spent time in the stomach of a schnauzer. Bad idea.

Another idea. You can clean the phone, go on, you can do that much. And I do. Horror everywhere but at least the phone is clean and now I am able to do the only thing I know how to do. I call Meredith. Help.

And she drives across town and saves me.

New Puppies!

Two new puppies have joined Critter Club. One is the most handsome, Indie who started with us one whole week ago. On his first day: ick I will not get into the car with you even though you smell like a dog and thus could be fun. Wolf in sheep's clothing and all that.

Indie's Mum and Dad told us that Indie will love to walk with us but really doesn't go much on other dogs. But of course we are the Dog Rock Gods and we do make magic happen. Today, just one short week later (miracles always happen in short weeks), Indie not only jumped enthusiastically into the car but played like a crazy boy for the entire hour walk with Olive the Staffy. Good huh?

Today we introduced a brand new puppy to the group. Despite our well placed bravado we were a little trepidacious because this particular pup is a Labrador from the House of Baci. Baci's individual Critter Club page tells you a little of what you need to know about her but trust us, there will be plenty more Baci features on this very blog before our time is up. In short - because this really is meant to be about her new sister - Baci is the naughtiest dog we walk - currently or ever. Fortunately for Baci she is also loveable, but enough about her. This is about her new Chocolate sister, Daisy.

We've known Daisy for five or six weeks now. While we waited for her to have her final shots, we'd go pick up Baci every day and little Daisy would be waiting at the gate with her. We'd pick Daisy up and take her over to the Dog Bus, let her look inside, give her a cuddle, then put her back behind the gate.

At last, today is different for little Daisy. This time the gate opens and a lead is paced on her collar and she follows Baci to her transport. Open the door and in jumps Baci with Daisy quickly looking up at the human to see what to do. With encouragement, she pops in and scurries immediately to the back to sit next to her big sister. Paws up if you're surprised Baci sits at the back of the bus.

Once at the park, Daisy is last out of the bus, firmly on her lead. The first walk is always on a lead no matter how good the dog appears. And puppies take quite a while to be allowed to roam free. Into the park and Daisy is so excited she doesn't know where to look first. So she looks to Baci. Unfortunately at this very moment Baci is engaged in one of her favourite past times. PLEASE STOP READING FOR A FEW LINES IF YOU HAVE EATEN OR INTEND TO EAT WITHIN A THREE HOUR PERIOD. As Daisy looks to her big sister she sees Baci rush to the back end of Tilly, mouth open facing up, hoping to catch the poo Tilly is producing before it hits the ground. Think Homer Simpson under a beer tap.

We turn the innocent head away and encourage her to sniff the grass to get an understanding of the dog wonderland that is Centennial Park. Heaven. Daisy attempts to sniff every blade of grass in the park. Gradually she looks up and starts to interact with other dogs. This is great!

We're so impressed with her alert responsiveness that we try to call her between us - first a metre away and then further. We get all the way up to five metres on her very first day. What a clever little dog. We praise her lavishly, "good girl, good Daisy" and who should come running over for a congratulatory pat? You guessed it, Big Sister Baci.

On the journey home, Daisy runs into her first piece of bad news. Dogs who are big or who will grow big, are not allowed on the front seat of the car. The politics of the front seat is quite the area of discussion at Critter Club and a blog on that very topic is bound to follow. Daisy simply cannot understand how masses of praise do not lead to an invitation to join the Dog Rock God in the front of the car. But being a smart little girl, she gets the message, and curls up with the others in the back.

Once home, a big kiss and cuddle - for Daisy, we do not share kisses with Baci, ironic isn't it? - and then in to rest to prepare for tomorrow's big adventure. We can't wait.

2010 - it begins ...

The first day back walking after the Christmas break is like a regular Monday on steroids – no, we don’t take steroids, just look at us for heaven’s sake. No, the regular ‘why aren’t I rich, why do I have to work for a meagre living?’ Monday feeling is amplified.

Mongrel alarm goes off and the bad news begins. It is no longer a day off. There is work to be done. Dogs to be walked.

Out of bed ridiculously early because the dog rock gods have to walk their own dogs before the actual work of dog walking begins. Ruby, Bubble, and Gizmo cope with our hurrumphing around Sydney Park, groaning about how ridiculously quickly that ‘holiday’ went. We hurrumph a little too long and suddenly we’re late. Great.

Rush rush. Fortunately there’s not too much traffic on the roads because all those other bastards are still on holiday. Not us. Our holiday is over. Serious grump.

And then, and this is going to sound pathetic but its true so the cynics need stop reading now, because, yes I’m going to say it, the magic begins.

First stop, Monty and Buttons' house. Still groaning, out of the car and … engage.

Bark bark bark bark bark. That would be – you’re late and oh, by the way, where have you been for the past ten, yes ten, days? Always complaining. Fumble for the key, the barking intensifies, gate flies open, and there they are: two of the biggest smiles you ever did see. Hello hello, how are you, good to see you.

Rush to the Dog Bus, and once inside, licks, and cuddles, and vastly wagging tails, and sheer delight. The scenario is repeated at every stop of the day. Nothing is more delightful than the unadulterated joy of a dog. And this is pretty much what greets us at every house, every day that we walk.

Terrible job. So sad the holiday is over.