My lovely dog

Our lovely dog-dog

We call him Dog-Dog.

He’s a five-year-old Border Terrier from show-winning stock. His Kennel Club registration name is Fifty Shades of Grey. I wish I was joking. We got him home and named him various things, none of which made any sense, but then hot on the heels of our tortoise being named Touse, my barely verbal son came up with Dog-Dog. And it stuck.

The photograph captures his character pretty well. Wikipedia describes the breed as “a small, rough-coated member of the terrier family. Though sometimes stubborn and strong-willed, border terriers are, on the whole, sound dogs. They are friendly and rarely aggressive. Good with children, but may chase cats and any other small pets.” And my God how he does. All I have to say is ‘What’s that?’, and Dog-dog is running at full speed into the garden barking at an imaginary squirrel, pigeon… or whatever.

Custard

Wikipedia goes onto explain that “They take training for tasks very well, and are extremely trainable, and capable of learning tricks quickly and competently. The border in recent years has been bred to harbour a more subtle character so are more adaptable to apartment living if properly exercised.” The former I cannot agree with, I am fairly sure Dog-dog is as dumb as custard, bless him. I will confirm though that he loves lying around the house doing nothing useful. He is to be found 95% of the time in his bed, on the sofa, lying in the garden. Asleep. A guard dog, Dog-dog is not!

The books would also have you believe that a Border Terrier is intelligent and eager to please. The former I have dealt with already, and I think I’m probably being a bit rough on the custard. The latter once again I have to give to Dog-dog. Wagging his tail so hard it pretty much bends his backside around next to his face… both ends greet you simultaneously.

He’ll lie there while the kids make him a collar out of lego. Follow you around until you’re fed up with him, but pretty much refuse to go for a walk. As I type, he’s lying by my feet in a pool of sunlight streaming through the window. I’ll forget he’s there and he’ll trip me up. Dog-dog.

Have you got a lovely Dog-dog?

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