emma and company - Sheila Hocken Read online

  now Emma, too, was blind and deaf, those things didn't worry

  her. She'd adapted marvellously in the house, remembering

  where all the furniture was, and it was only at times when

  Kerensa's toys were strewn around the floor or I'd unwittingly

  moved a chair that i realized Emma couldn't see.

  Human beings are far more affected by these disabilities than

  animals. But to lose the use of her back legs - i felt that would

  be the ultimate humiliation for her.

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  'I think that'll come gradually but you'll have to help her

  around for quite a while.'

  'Why should she go ofyher back legs if it's something to do

  with her tummy?' i asked.

  ' It's so painful,' she explained to me, 'that she tends to

  hold her muscles tightly and then can't use her back legs.

  Don't worry, she'll be better soon. I'll come and see her

  again tomorrow.'

  It was two-thirty am when Gwen left our house that

  Sunday morning, a totally different figure to me than when

  she had first come in. i had every faith in her now: she was a

  brilliant vet.

  When we returned to the lounge Emma was sleeping

  peacefully.

  'It's a shame to disturb her to take her upstairs,' Don said.

  'I don't think it would be good for her to climb the stairs

  anyway. Shall we leave her down here tonight?'

  i reluctantly agreed, knowing it was the best for Emma.

  But when i entered the bedroom, i didn't dare look at the

  space where Emma's bed should be. i climbed into bed and

  closed my eyes to the fact that she wasn't there. i had to keep

  telling myself that she was asleep in the lounge and she was

  going to be all right, but i found it almost impossible to sleep

  in the silence. i was so used to hearing Emma's deep

  breathing and the occasional little snort and snore from her

  bed. The silence was overwhelming. i had to try and keep

  my brain occupied with silly little things ... making

  shopping lists for the following Monday, mapping out the

  whole of my day for Sunday - what we were having for

  dinner, how many potatoes I'd peel, etc. - until eventually i

  was carried off into an uneasy sleep until the morning.

  Emma was still unable to walk unaided that day. We

  found a long strip of soft towelling which we looped under

  her tummy to support her as we walked her round the

  garden.

  'The main thing is,' Don told me, practical as always, 'to

  let her walk around and give her legs a stretch. Don't leave

  her lying there too long.'

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  ill

  i rubbed Emma's back legs constantly and as soon as she

  looked as if she wanted to go anywhere i helped her up on to

  her feet, walking her up and down the lounge, round the hall,

  into the kitchen, out into the back garden. It was at this point

  that Bracken began to show even more devotion to Emma.

  He couldn't understand why she had to be helped in and out

  but it worried him and he would always come with us,

  walking round her, giving her a lick round the cars and

  round the nose to reassure her that he was still there.

  Emma's recovery from that illness was a slow one, but she

  did recover and was more and more able to cope with

  walking on her own. As long as i watched her i could leave

  her to make her own way up and down the garden. i

  remember one day i let her out and was watching her rootle

  around the grass when the telephone rang. When i came

  back, Bracken was running up and down the hall crying.

  'What's the matter?' i asked. He rushed out into the back

  garden, whining and barking. And there was Emma. She'd

  fallen over on the grass and had been unable to get up.

  Bracken was so upset. He ran round her in circles, nuzzling

  her with his nose, licking her, trying to encourage her to get

  back on to her feet and then running back and barking at me,

  as if appealing to me to do something quickly. From that

  moment on he became her slave - standing over her while

  she ate her dinner to make sure that Buttons didn't pinch

  any, escorting her up the garden and back. But it wasn't

  until Emma was much, much better, when she began to wear

  her collar and lead again to go for little walks, that Bracken

  took on yet another role.

  6o

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BRACKEN IIAD FOUND his vocation in life. He changed from

  a mischievous Labrador into a responsible adult dog and

  decided he must look after Emma. The first rtiorning that

  Emma was well enough to go for a short walk, Bracken

  insisted on coming along too. Buttons wasn't worried as she

  was still nursing her puppies. As soon as we stepped out of

  the front door, Bracken took Emma's lead in his mouth. Far

  be it for me to say that Bracken actually knew Emma

  couldn't see and that he could guide her - i don't know

  whether dogs have that much intelligence - but all i know is

  that he wanted to have the lead and walk her down the drive.

  He was really thrilled. His tail waved high up irl the air and

  he had a look of total self-sacrifice written all over his face.

  Emma's pace was that of a snail compared to Bracken but he

  wasn't worried. He slowed down to suit her. Ernma wanted

  to stop and sniff every piece of grass and every gate-post.

  Bracken stopped too and sat down, patiently waiting for her.

  I've always taught Bracken to sit at kerbs, probably

  because Emma always did and it was the natural thing for

  me to do, so, at the first kerb Bracken sat down. Emma

  didn't. She wasn't very keen on sitting - her back legs

  weren't pliable enough to keep standing and sitting down at

  kerbs. Emma carried on, trying to cross the road, but

  Bracken was most upset about this and sat firrn. He turned

  to look at me with the expression on his face that said, Well,

  I'm sitting at the kerb. What are we going to do about

  Emma? But Emma was undaunted, she tried to cross the

  road. If Bracken hadn't been such a big, heavy dog, I'm sure

  she would have achieved it. But she didn't. She had to wait

  until i gave Bracken the okay that all was clear.

  Bracken behaved like a true gentleman while he was

  6 i

  i"~

  takiiig Emma for her walks. He even ignored other dogs,

  which, for him, took an awful lot of self-control. A stray

  niongrel came up and started to show great interest.

  Bracken gave it a sideloiig glance and a low growl but,

  i Emma along the

  ivithout further ado, cont'nued to take

  pavement. He had, of late, become very stroppy with strange

  dogs, especially when he went for his walks in the park. He

  seemed to be more protective towards me than towards

  Buttons or Emma, and if any dog came near me he would

  walk towards it, stiff legged, hackles raised and tail held up

  in the air. If it refused to go away he made it even more plain

  by attacking it. This became a big worry to me. i hate to see

  ilasty dogs and although Bracken was completely obedient
>
  and would never run off and attack any dog, i still had to be

  on my guard and try not to let other dogs come near me,

  which was extremely difficult. i only had to raise my voice to

  a strange dog to tell it to go away, and that was the cue for

  Bracken to fly after it to make sure that it did. Of course, he

  was an entire dog and had already sired a litter of puppies.

  i had visions of him being a stud dog. His puppies had

  been so nice and one had been accepted to be a guide dog,

  but i had to re-think my ideas about this. He was obviously

  beginning to find his feet as an adult male and I'd got to do

  something about it. After very careful thought, i took a leaf

  out of the guide-dogs' book and decided to have him

  castrated. It worked like a charm. He became even more

  loving and devoted to all of us as a family, still kept his patrol

  with Emma up and down the garden and stopped attacking

  strange dogs. It was a relief to me. I'm surprised how many

  people think this is cruel because i believe the opposite: that

  it's cruel to keep an entire dog if you're not going to supply

  him with bitches. You're asking him to live the life of a monk

  and, surely, a dog wouldn't choose that life for himself.

  Bracken still fancies the ladies, of course, but now it's a

  pleasant chat and a tall-waving session. i would also not

  hesitate to advise anyone to have their bitch spayed if they

  have no intention of breeding from her. So many bitches go

  through a lot of heartache and illness, coming in season time

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  2

  after time without ever being allowed to have a litter of

  puppies. Many of them have false pregnancies and some of

  them even produce milk at the right time. Surely this is far

  more cruel than having a bitch spayed? We should take a

  lead from some of the Continental countries who charge a

  higher licence fee for dogs that aren't castrated or spayed.

  Perhaps that would also cut down the many unwanted

  puppies there are in England.

  f- f- IThe

  more i know of dogs, the more amazed i become at their

  differences in character and their variation in intelligence.

  Even one breed, like Labradors, can be just as varied as

  human beings, both in their looks and temperament. Mocha

  was the u y that made this absolutely plain to me. Mocha

  is, of course - yes, you've guessed it - another chocolate

  Labrador. i saw her advertised in one of our dog magazines

  and i couldn't resist her. Poor Don wasjust a little perturbed

  that we suddenly had four dogs but, optimistic as usual, i

  assured him that sooner or later we'd find a nice house with

  lots of land and we wouldn't even notice we'd got four dogs

  then. To this very day, three years after purchasing Mocha

  as a puppy, I still haven't quite fathomed her temperament

  out completely. i can't really believe that she's as stupid as

  she makes out.

  The very first day of her arrival, unlike most new puppies

  who gallop round the garden in delighted excitement,

  Mocha walked amiably up and down, taking no notice of

  anything around her, accepting the fact that there were three

  other big dogs. She appeared to be in a trance-like state as

  she sat in the middle of the lawn staring contentedly at

  nothing in particular, while Bracken and Buttons were

  racing up and down trying to work out what this new puppy

  was and what it was going to do. Emma, of course, took no

  notice whatsoever and cleared off to her usual place on the

  settee in the lounge. But, for all that, Mocha made up for her

  lack of intelligence with a super nature. i don't think i shall

  ever meet a kinder, more obedient dog. She just doesn't

  know how to be disobedient.

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  i

  Although i don't feel my dogs are human beings, i like to

  treat them all with respect. This is the way you get the best

  out of your dog and i can't help seeing human characteristics

  in them. Mocha reminds me of a little orphan child

  whenever she sits g~zing into the distance with those big,

  liquid brown eyes of hers. She is transformed in my mind to a

  little girl of about eight, with red hair and freckled cheeks

  and one of those big floppy hats which were in fashion before

  the war, blue ribbons dangling. i imagine her dreaming of

  what she'll do when she is old enough to leave the orphanage

  and start a life of her own, of the handsome man she'll meet

  and marry. And that handsome man, I'm sure, is Bracken. i

  think it's because i can see now that i read so much into the

  dogs' expressions and their eyes can make me imagine so

  many things. If I'd seen all my life, perhaps i wouldn't take

  notice of this, but eyes are so fascinating. Bracken's show

  reams of intelligence. i have a picture of him being in the last

  World War, leading a squadron of fighter-bombers, telling

  all his many girlfriends that he was winning the war singlehanded.

  He's smart, upright, always joking and a real ladykiller.

  i can see him in my mind as clearly as i would a close

  friend, combing his hair in the mirror and laying it down

  withjars full of Brylcreem and making sure every hair was in

  place, brushing his uniform down meticulously before going

  ofr to lead his squadron into battle. I can also see his last

  battle over Germany as those impetuous hazel eyes of his

  dart to and fro while he watches the attackers, and sadly his

  plane is shot down in flames. This scene is so vivid in my

  mind that sometimes it really worries me. i wasn't around in

  the war-time and for me to have the feeling of being in that

  fighter-bomber with Bracken, and feeling the fear that he

  did, is very uncanny.

  I'm rather glad Buttons doesn't know how i see her,

  because it really isn't a very nice picture. i get flashes of her

  wearing curlers and a hairnet, leaning on the garden fence

  gossiping to anybody that passes rather than doing housework,

  always going out on a Saturday night to have a right

  old booze-up, then returning home to nag a poor, weedy

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  little husband. i had no strange notions about Emma,

  probably because when i was blind i always thought of her as

  a person. i always talked to her as we went along the road and

  i often remember people telling me what a beautiful dog she

  was. i would stop and think, But i haven't got a dog. Then I'd

  realize they meant Emma. i am sure this all sounds - even to

  the most ardent of dog lovers - a lot of sentimental slosh and i

  hasten to point out that I'm not sentimental about my dogs.

  They are treated as dogs and they're made to behave

  themselves and to be obedient, and they are not at all

  spoilt.

  I'm not quite sure if i believe in reincarnation but it's

  worth thinking about: whether we have to prove our worth

  before we go to heaven (or the other place for that matter) by

  coming back as various things - dogs, cats, horses, whatever

  you like to mention. I'm sure th
at some of you at one time or

  another must have looked at an animal and felt it reminded

  you of someone that you knew. i often get that feeling.

  Perhaps i should see a psychiatrist.

  I learnt such a lot more after having Mocha about the

  temperament of each dog and how the approach to training

  had to be so totally different. i had to be very cart-ful about

  the intonations in my voice when i spoke to Mocha. i

  couldn't tell her that she was a good girl excitedly. It had to

  be done very calmly. i learnt this quite early on. If i forgot

  for a moment and sounded at all excited when talking to her,

  Mocha would go berserk, leaping up into the air as if she

  were trying to jump clean over my head. Usually she didn't

  quite make it and hit me straight in the face. She did this one

  evening and knocked my front tooth clean out. Luckily it had

  been capped or i would have been in agony, but i was

  horrorstruck when i saw my front tooth sailing across the

  kitchen. Bracken, who had been dozing in the corner, also

  saw it and leapt up with the speed of light, grabbed it and ate

  it. i felt such a fool when I arrived at the dentist and told him

  my tooth had come out and the dog had eaten it, but it wasn't

  the first time I'd had to tell someone a similar story. Bracken

  had once eaten one of my contact lenses - not the crunchy

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  i

  enough to drive so i had to make do with ringing the estate

  agents, trying not to sound too excited, and making an

  appointment to view the following afternoon. There was

  pouring rain and a howling gale as we turned the corner at

  the top of Barton Hill to see our kennels but, even in those

  sort of weather conditions, i knew I wanted it. i knew i

  wanted to live there, to have as many dogs as i wanted and to

  be able to run a boarding kennels.

  'This is it,' i said as i got out of the car.

  'You haven't seen it yet,' said Don, always a little more

  conservative than i.

  'But look at all those fields. i think the property stretches

  up to that ridge of trees over there.'

  'Hmm, quite a size.' Don seemed to be impressed.

  Mrs Wood, the owner, greeted us at the door and asked us