The cat is out of the bag: Part ll

When we were first thinking of getting a dog, I filled in a questionnaire on a website to help pick a breed. Did I want a big dog? Did I want dog that didn't moult? Did I have a garden? That kind of thing. I eagerly waited while it loaded the results... "We're sorry. We have no suggestions for a breed that suits your requirements." Hm. Well, I had been a little idealistic. I wanted a dog that was good with children, strangers, other dogs, didn't moult at all, wouldn't need too much exercise, wouldn't mind being left alone, wouldn't slobber, would be easy to train, probably would be prepared to stand for Parliament too. I tried again, tempering my answers with realism. It came up with one suggestion: the Mexican Hairless (which looks somewhat like a rat, in my opinion). I clearly needed to loosen up on the "no moulting" issue.

I've moved in my thinking since that questionnaire. I'm torn, though. I have two requirements that pull in opposite directions. I want a dog I can train. I'm prepared to put in the time and effort, and learn how to do it properly. I want a dog who's obedient, reliable, and who will come when called (crucial if you're living on a boarding school campus, don't you think?). I'm thinking Labrador, in spite of it being such a cliche. But I also want a small dog, because our house isn't huge. I grew up with Border Terriers, so I'm comfortable with them, and I also like the idea of a Scottie or a Westie. Because I realise I can't have a terrier-sized Labrador, or an obedient Terrier, I've started thinking about a middle option, but nothing seems just right. What I'm really hoping, though, is that we won't find a dog, but that the dog will find us. I'm hoping our paths will just cross. Perhaps when we move to Edinburgh, someone will know someone who has a bitch who's just whelped, and that we will get a puppy on the basis of the known loveliness of the mother.

I'm rather prejudiced against rescue dogs, though I know they can be a big success, (so no offence intended to those of you with rescue dogs). First, we want a puppy, and those are rare in rescue centres. Second, I witnessed a sad story involving a rescue dog that seemed fine, but wasn't, and it put me off the idea.

As for names, currently we're on Bracken for a bitch, and Hector or Mungo for a dog. The dog names are from Hector's House, and Mary, Mungo and Midge. Thank heavens for Youtube, with which we've been able to educate our children on those favourites from our childhood past. Remember Hector? He really was a very splendid dog. I'll include a little snippet at the end of this post for you. You'll enjoy having your memory cells tickled with the theme tune.

Our favourite name, but one we will never be able to use, is Headmaster. Husband told us that in a boarding school, the Principal is usually addressed as "Headmaster". It occurred to me that if we named our dog Headmaster, that would give rise to endless opportunities for mirth. "Get down, Headmaster." "Time for walkies, Headmaster." "What are you doing in those bushes, Headmaster?" "Stop sniffing your friends' bottoms, Headmaster." We've had a lot of fun with the idea. I just hope the children keep a straight face when they meet the man.

Well, we didn't manage to shock our children visibly with the announcement of our decision, but we do shock them every time we talk about dogs and bitches. "Ooooh, Mummy used the B word!" screeches my daughter, in horrified delight.  11-yo and 8-yo genuinely didn't know that the word 'bitch' was anything other than a crude insult. Even though we've explained the original meaning of the word, they still experience a shiver of something naughty every time it comes up.

Now it's time for Hector. (Amazing, by the way, how expressive he can be, though he has no moving facial features - well, I suppose the bottom of his mouth goes up and down, but that's not a great boon for expression, is it? It's all in the voice. Even if you don't want to watch all five minutes, watch just a little bit.)