Sunday afternoon: I'd just spent the last of my cash on petrol and was enjoying a leisurely drive through the countryside with a couple of friends. It was early October and there was a mellow glow upon the land, freshly turned plough shone silver from the share and gold tinted woods smoldered in the valleys, while a high above all a wrack of dazzling white clouds smiled coolly down. It was good to relax after a long weeks toil and I was in a lighthearted mood, enjoying the scenery, the company and the freedom; not going any place in particular, just driving for the sake of it.
The miles slipped smoothly by and I found myself on a familiar stretch of road with an equally familiar red brick house looming on the horizon. It was one of the local boarding kennels, the one I had used on a couple of occasion to board Merlin, my much missed German shepherd. On impulse I slowed the car and pulled into the drive and parked. I grinned at my friends quizzical looks,
"Let's see if they have any puppies!"
There were no objections, Sheila and Mick were as dog daft as myself.
Anyone who has visited a kennels will know the chorus of barks that greet strangers and amongst the volley that greeted us that afternoon I easily recognised the heavy bark of the wonderful long coated German shepherd who belonged to the owner. His thunderous voice brought many memories of Merlin whom I had lost four months earlier. How I missed Merlin. Too much too give thought to getting another dog. I still had Kiki, a rather irascible fourteen year old Jack Russell terrier who would probably not take kindly to the introduction of a pup into her domain. At her advanced age Kiki deserved some peace ... but that deep throated bark brought an ache of longing.
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Merlin and Kiki play tug-o-war.
Roused by the excited volley of barking the proprietor appeared, and after exchanging greetings I introduced my friends and Sheila lost no time in asking if there were any puppies we could see. I was silently grateful when told there were no German Shepherd pups available (Merlin had been a Welton dog and they knew of his passing and assumed I was after another GSD). Fate can play some pretty strange tricks on us at times, not all of them bad ones. Occasionally it can leading us into situations that are 'right' for us, even though we do not know it at the time. That October Sunday in 1982 Fate led me to Welton Kennels at just the right time and introduced me to a character who would play a major role in my life and, no doubt, help save my sanity in the years to come.
There were three left from an unexpected litter still looking for homes. They were not German shepherd pups though, so I wasn't particularly interested, but Sheila wanted to see them and was bubbling with questions. What the breeder told us made me smile: apparently Brahma, a striking Airedale terrier had fallen in love with a pretty little springer spaniel dog who had achieved great things in the show ring and was expected to produce some very good pedigree puppies. Seeing their love go unrequited was too much for the new kennel maid the result: seven Airsprings had been born!
Airspring!
An intriguing name. Remember this was 1982, quite sometime before cross-breed dogs like Labradoodles and Cockerpoos became popular and these pups were called Airsprings for simplicity... it was quicker than saying Airedale- Springer spaniel cross. Anyway, my curiosity was roused; I just had to see what an Airspring looked like. So the three pups were let out to meet us and have a run around in the exercise field.
Three leggy, black hurricanes dashed out to mug us. They were built a bit on the square side, like their Airedale sire, even their heads had a sort of oblong look and with tails like Dr Who's K-9 they were actually quite charming. Their big ears and dark eyes gave them instant cuddle appeal. The two little bitches were typical pups, anxious to please, rolling over for tummy rubs, mouthing our hands with needle sharp teeth and generally becoming so excited they widdled uncontrollably. Their brother was a different matter; he didn't hang around for fuss and, evading our reaching hands, he set off at a pretty smart lick to the top of the field.
Now, my good old uncle, Charlie 'Brock', who had bred smooth Fox terriers to a Best in Show at Crufts standard, had often told me to go for a bold pup, the one who shows no fear. Well, that dog-pup, rooting around in the long grass at the top of the field, seemed quite fearless to me. He was undeniably independent. He showed promise.
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I'm still not sure how it happened, but half an hour later I was carrying an ungainly, leggy dog pup down the drive from the kennels to my car. I settled him on Sheila's lap, and drove away in the direction of home. I hadn't even paid for him! It had been agreed I would return the following Friday after work when I'd been paid, and hand over the grand sum of £12 to secure his future with me. Yes, I was suddenly the proud new owner of a bold, fearless Airspring pup ... the very last thing I'd expected to be when climbing out of bed that morning.
What the Hell was my father going to say?
What was Kiki going to make of him?
"What are ya gonna call him?"
I took a swift sidelong look at my friend, Sheila had that smitten look as she nursed the pup, holding him so he faced her and she could watch him and drink in his loveliness. Her question stumped me ... hell, I'd just taken on a pup I hadn't known existed an hour ago. I hadn't planned on getting another dog. Name him? I hadn't a clue. I took another look at him. He was sitting bolt upright, forepaws on Shelia's stomach, legs ramrod straight. His forehead was puckered in a quizzical frown .... somehow he looked quite wise! I decided,
"He looks rather wise so I'm gonna call him Solomon, Sollee for short."
That inscrutable, wise look that won him his name, but in my wisdom I had been mistaken; it was not wisdom I had seen. The puckered brow was not a sign of contemplative intelligence... just a sign of stomach ache as was proved by what happened next. Sheila's scream of disgust mingled very nicely with the sound of retching. An overpowering stench filled the car and I pulled over onto the verge. Looking at my friend I couldn't help but laugh, my wise new pup had projectile-vomited all over her ample bosom .... and I realised that perhaps he wasn't as bold and brave as I'd first thought; that dash up the exercise field wasn't the act of an intrepid explorer, it just proved he knew where the kennel owners dumped the rotten eggs from their fowl, a sickly mess of which flowed into Sheila's cleavage and forced us to wind down the windows to get rid of the unholy stink.
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With my friend tidied up as best we could manage, and a now exhausted Sollee asleep beside Mick on the rear seat (Sheila was no longer quite so keen to monopolise him), we continued on our way and I couldn't prevent the occasional titter escaping. He had looked so wise with that puckered brow; it seemed like I had found myself another 'character'.
I had no idea just what a clown I had taken on.
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