The Sunday Times Magazine - UK (2021-02-14)

(Antfer) #1

36 • The Sunday Times Magazine


“We swore ‘never again’ ”


Lisa Markwell thought her dog days were over. Then she had a change of heart


A


fter our last dog, Olive,
was hit by a train in 2015
we swore “never again”. The
heartache (and before that,
let’s be honest, the hassle) just
wasn’t worth it. But then my dad
died in 2019 and I found a to-do
list in his diary. Fourth on the list,
after house painting, a trip to
Mauritania and fruit trees, came
“dog”. I cried for a while and
longed to carry out his wish,
but ultimately folded the note
away without speaking of it.
I didn’t know it was already
too late, though via a circuitous
route. It was last February and
during my weekend stint of
caring for Mum, my sister went
to Sheffield and came back
with a tiny wirehaired fox terrier.
Bodger, she said, would be good
company for our mother. Sadly,
and not entirely unrelated to

the wormy poos that just
missed the puppy pads, the
needle-sharp teeth and the
high-pitched yapping, it proved
to be a terrible idea. Clearly “dog”
hadn’t been on her wish list.
Also terrible, said my
husband, was the idea of the
dog coming to live with us in

London. I was by then doing
double respite care — taking
the dog home Monday to
Friday and looking after Mum
at the weekends. Something
had to give, and it was Bodger.
Last in, first out.
A lovely woman who had
come to give us training tips
offered to take him... but I had
a wobble. He got me out of the
house (by now lockdown was
well established), kept me
company during the long hours
of staring at a screen and was
an eager fellow recipe-tester.
Maybe it could work, I said to
my husband — employing the
puppy-dog eyes I saw every
time there was food around.
And so Bodger is now Badger,
part of the family. Perhaps he
should have been named
Barkwell, for my father n

“Her progress is joyful”


Lessons in canine psychology helped Helena Perry bond with her shy rescue dog


O


ur family has never had a
dog, but then lockdown
happened and it felt like the
perfect time to adopt. We would
all be around to get to know our
new pet together.
We decided to rescue a dog
and registered with every
charity we could think of, but
each had huge waiting lists and
very particular conditions. In the
end we found Safe Rescue for
Dogs, a UK charity that rehomes
dogs saved from “kill centres”
in Romania. We saw Rozzy’s
profile and fell in love.
She did not feel the same way.
When we collected her from her
foster home in Norfolk she was
terrified. In theory we knew what
we were letting ourselves in for,
but you’re never really prepared.
She’s perfect in a lockdown
because she doesn’t want to go
anywhere near anybody, but we
had no idea she would be quite
so antisocial.
We had a trainer come for a
lesson in the garden on reading
her body language — blinking,
anxiety, licking her lips, anxiety,
lifting her paw, anxiety. She also
started running away, taking

herself off on a hunt for squirrels.
She would always come back,
but only when she felt like it.
We think Rozzy has had
terrible experiences — her
teeth are ground down, maybe
because she has tried to chew
through cages. She has a rip in
her ear from a tag, and scars up
her legs and her chest. And we
think she may have been beaten
because hands and anything
stick-like make her freeze.
We discovered a theory
called Amichien Bonding, which
is like learning dog language.
For £150, a trainer spent four

socially distanced hours
teaching our family to think
like a dog pack. If you don’t do
subtle things to show that you
are the pack leader, you’re
signalling to the dog that they
are responsible for you. Rozzy
thought she had to be the alpha,
which, for a traumatised dog,
was incredibly stressful.
To relieve her stress we
started doing things such as
“gesture eating” — that’s eating
something first before putting
her food down, to show who is
in control. It obviously makes
sense to her. It has also taught
me how to be a good leader.
Six months in we’re finally
making some progress, but
we’ve got a really long journey
ahead of us. She’ll come and
eat out of our hands and she’s
realising that it can be nice to
be stroked. But there are still
times when she suddenly runs
upstairs to hide, terrified.
There’s no way we would
give her back now. Seeing her
progress fills us with joy. We’ve
even found ourselves thinking
about another dog. Perhaps
she would like a friend?

Pooch corner


Should I brush my


dog’s teeth?


Rozzy’s troubled background
made her antisocial at first

Badger: an unexpected hit
with Lisa Markwell and family

Yes. Vets are adamant about it
these days. But why, after more
than 25,000 years of dog-human
cohabitation, is this now a thing?
“Bad habits of the ‘good old days’
should be left behind,” says Bolu
Eso, resident vet on the BBC One
show Pooch Perfect. “Our pets
live longer because we’re getting
better at managing diseases,
dental disease being one of them.”
Can’t we just let them chew
dental sticks? No, Eso says.
“Nothing beats brushing.” He
recommends doing so at least two
to three times a week — daily if
possible. “A regular schedule is
the key to preventing a hefty vet
bill further down the line.” How
hefty? Sarah James of the pet
insurer boughtbymany.com
reels off some common claims:
“retained deciduous tooth: £210”,
“abscess in mouth: £507”. “If
tartar is left untreated this can
cause endocarditis — a bacterial
infection of the heart.” Gulp.
Eso suggests starting by putting
a smidgen of dog toothpaste on
the tip of your finger, to get your
dog used to the taste. Then
graduate to brushing. Whatever
you do, don’t reach for the
Colgate. “Human toothpaste is
toxic for dogs,” Eso says.
I started our cavapoo with
the Beaphar Toothbrush and
Toothpaste Kit (£7.50,
petsathome.com) — liver flavour,
which sounds like something
Hannibal Lecter might use after
some fava beans and a nice chianti,
but equals minty freshness for
dogs. Point-blank refusal. So
we’ve graduated to the Dorwest
Roast Dinner Toothpaste
(£9.90 for 200g, charleychau.
com). He’s interested.
Watch this space.
James Palmer
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