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"Would ya look at the webs on him!"
That was the first observation made by Tom, my then boyfriend, when he first met Sollee. He was referring, of course, to the pups paws which, I had to admit, were on the large size.
House training had been a doddle, no problem at all; a couple of messes and a few puddles but by the end of his first week he was asking when he needed 'out'. His other, basic training proved just as easy. He took great delight in pleasing me and he learned remarkably fast. The only problem was that once he had learned something he lost interest, it was a case of, "Been there, got the bone, buried it!" Our twice daily training sessions, where I would attempt to have him do all those things he had learned so quickly, like walking to heel, the sit, the stay, the down and stay ...would quickly turn into a battle of wills. I had been so happy with his progress but when it came to the repetition of everyday routine he just didn't want to know. Something new and he would throw himself into it with all the enthusiasm he could muster, but once he had learned it he lost all interest.
He wasn't a bad dog and walking him on a lead wasn't an unpleasant experience; he was very well behaved wherever I took him. His behavior certainly outshone that of most of the dogs of my acquaintance and he was still young and rather soppy, so I cut the training back to once a day and concentrated on teaching some fun things like playing Fetch or Tracking, both of which he never seemed to tire of (well, they were in his Springer spaniel blood).
Another factor that I felt might have a bearing on his short attention span was his blossoming interest in sex! At seven months Sollee was ready to hump anything, whether it moved or not, as he proved one Friday evening when visiting friends. Their elderly terrier bitch was the first to be subjected to his unwanted advances; we took mercy on her and let her into another room. Then he tried it on with their neutered dog who soon set him straight. Frustrated, Sollee then pursued the cat .... she knew how to deal with him! But a sore nose didn't cool his ardor for long and with no other options open to him he launched himself upon the arm of the sofa!
Next morning I booked him in with the vet to have his pockets picked ... he had just too much loose change ....
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I collected Sollee from the vet after I finished work on Monday evening. Poor lad, he was dead to the world. I felt sorry for him, he looked rather pathetic draped in my arms as I carried him indoors and laid him in his bed. He was limp and senseless, but the vet assured me he would be okay. Because of his age he hadn't used a general anesthetic, but had performed the op. under sedation and he promised me Sollee would be up and doing within an hour or two. That was at six-thirty. I checked on him every hour or so. It was only the fact that he was gently snoring that stopped me from calling the vet after four hours of inactivity. And when I turned out the light and headed for bed just before mid-night he appeared to be okay, just in one devil of a deep sleep. A dream filled sleep it seemed for his paws were paddling, his eyelids flickering and every once in a while his lips would twitch as he yipped excitedly.
Tuesday morning saw my Airspring still sleeping! I couldn't understand it, I waved a dish of minced beef near his nose but he didn't move. His nose was dry so I wiped it with a wet cloth and then squeezed a little moisture under his lip. He stirred a fraction but didn't wake.
I didn't like the idea of leaving him all day without some reassurance so I stopped off at the village phone kiosk on my way to work and rang the vet (we didn't have our own phone back then). The vet didn't seem overly concerned and told me not to worry, it wasn't that unusual. But I did worry, all day. By three in the afternoon I couldn't stand it any longer and 'threw a sickie' for the rest of the day. Arriving home I couldn't believe he was still asleep! I tried shaking him awake but without success. Tempting food scents had no effect either. I decided I would get father's meal ready for five o'clock and if Sollee hadn't stirred his stumps by then I would take him back to the vet before surgery closed.
Five o'clock came and still he snored on. I brought the car round onto the back lawn and gathered Sollee in my arms and carried him out.
I've never been able to quite decide what happened next, what actually woke him up. Was it the fresh air? Was it the movement of being carried? Or was it that he hadn't emptied his bladder in nigh on thirty-three hours?! Whatever it was, just as I started to lower him toward the back seat, he erupted! There's no other way to describe it ... he erupted!
Suddenly he was all legs and tail .... long, flailing legs and wild whipping tail . And ears ... ears that caught me a swipe across my mouth. He took me completely by surprise, there was no holding him. Somehow he hit the ground running, albeit a rather wobbly run, and he headed for the wood.
I live in a cottage surrounded by woodland and there is no fence to separate the garden from the wood. Sollee blundered across the lawn and on under the trees. I yelled his name and beetled off after him but I was no match for an Airspring, even a sleep drugged pup. I winced as he crashed through a brier patch, thinking of the stitches in his tender nether region, but he appeared to feel no pain and continued on a lap through the wood leaving me standing and bewildered, and scared for his safety. Then, on his way back toward the garden, he came across Barlow and the hens who, with the lowering of the sun had begun to make their way back toward the safety of their coop. Squawks and cackles filled the air and six outraged banties and one furious cockerel flew in mad array onto the lawn. Sollee followed but at that point, just when I was prepared to rugby tackle him into submission, he stopped. The fleeing bantams, my hoarse voiced orders were as nothing compared to his sudden desperate need for a pee!
I thought he'd never stop! Half squatting, hind legs spread, he seemed to go on forever and he took not the slightest bit of notice when I attached the lead to his collar. Tank empty, my pup shook himself, looked up at me with a definite question in his eyes, then led me indoors. He wanted his supper!
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Big paws, a poker tail, flappy ears, a large and extremely active tongue and sparkling, impish eyes ... that was Sollee as a pup .... and that was also Sollee as an adult! Looks-wise he was the type of dog one could imagine starring in a heart wrenching Disney film. Everyone loved him, I lost count of the number of people making 'offers' for him. Everywhere I went, Sollee went too, except into work. He had been a lovable scrap of a pup and he grew into a gentle, intelligent and very funny dog. Down my local he was an instant hit and readily joined the other canine 'regulars' at the bar. He was the perfect companion; the perfect friend ... the perfect clown!
