WILLIAM

CHAPTER FIVE

by JEAN NORFOLK

He will be yours faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion. Anonymous.

Although we didn’t encounter many dogs on our first morning walk, we did meet quite a few later in the day. One of these was a lovely lady dog named Cougar, who was a couple of years older than William. In total contrast to his black coat, hers was a beautiful golden brown, and it was exhilarating to see them racing around together and having fun. William didn’t seem to mind that as she was quite a bit bigger than him she was totally in charge of the situation. He just loved her company, and although he was always exhausted after his runs with her they became the highlight of his day.

When Cougar and her owner moved away from the district he was broken-hearted for a while. For some weeks he fretted and pined for her, but eventually he seemed to realise that she wasn’t coming back and even though we still walked by the river every day without fail, he never found another doggie friend that “lit the spark” as she had done.

Like most dogs, William was a territory marker, and every corner we turned, every gateway we passed, was a signal for him to lift his leg and leave his “calling card”. If he spotted anything new that he hadn’t noticed before, a sign post, a discarded newspaper, a newly installed litter bin, anything at all really, he would walk round and round, sniffing inquisitively, before lifting his leg and marking it.

The most embarrassing thing he ever did was on an occasion when we crossed the high steps to the bridge over the canal, which from that point runs alongside the river. It was a beautiful sunny day, and as we reached the top of the steps, a well-dressed man carrying a briefcase suddenly appeared from the other side. He paused to watch a boat negotiate the lock and placed his briefcase down beside him. I totally forgot about William’s penchant for “marking” and before I realised what was happening he had lifted his leg over it! I was mortified, but all I could do was apologise profusely. The man simply picked up the briefcase, shook it, then glared at William, and me, as he walked off without saying a word.

One day after heavy overnight rain, the river was high and flowing very fast, and I had a heart stopping experience with William, quite close to that same footbridge. Looking back I realise that it was largely my own fault.

I normally kept William on his lead until we had passed the sluice gates from which point the river connects with the canal, and sometimes he went right to the edge to look over into the water below. On this particular day he was running free and after I had walked a few yards I looked back to see where he was. I was mortified to see that he had slipped over the edge and was in danger of falling into the river. His head and shoulders peeped over the edge of the concrete path around the sluice gates mechanism whilst his rear end hung precariously in mid-air! He was struggling desperately to hold on whilst his back legs scratched and scraped at the concrete in a frantic attempt to get a grip somewhere and haul himself back up. I ran back as fast as I could, convinced that he would fall into the swirling waters below before I could reach him, and he’d be swept away and drowned. Then miraculously, just as I reached out to grab his collar, he managed to pull himself back up. He then calmly carried on sniffing around on the grass as though nothing had happened! Following that event, I always made sure that he was kept safely on his lead until we were well past those sluice gates.

He loved to stop and rest at the wooden seats facing the river at the end of our walk when the weather was fine. If I tried to walk past them without stopping he’d look at the seats then look up at me, sending me a silent yet very meaningful message that he wanted me to walk across the grass and sit down for a while. When he realised I was going to do just that he’d race across excitedly and settle himself down on the grass as he waited for me to sit on the seat beside him. Although I teased him sometimes by pretending to walk by, in actual fact I looked forward to our little rest just as much as he did. It was a perfect relaxing finale to a pleasant walk, and I loved the quiet calm of just sitting there with my lovely dog beside me as we enjoyed the beauty of the wildlife and nature around us.

We spent many happy hours there over the years, watching the swans and ducks on the river. Occasionally I took bread to feed them, and William would gobble up any bits that fell to the ground. He hated it when I fed the birds and not him!

Sometimes when the day was bright and sunny, a tiny single-engine plane would put in an appearance overhead and at times it flew so high that it almost disappeared from sight. I remember trying to focus on what had become no more than a tiny pinhead as it flew higher and higher, then as it lost altitude and came back into view the plane would duck and dive as the pilot performed crazy loop the loops just for the sheer hell of it. Although I hate flying, I was always envious of this guy (or woman) who was in the position of being able to express their joy for living in such a high and lofty place. It was reminiscent of the childlike delight and carefree abandonment displayed by Gene Kelly in “Singing in the Rain” as he splashed and stomped around in those lovely puddles, filling us all with envy because we secretly ached to emulate him - and most of us cherished memories of a time when we actually had!

William watched what seemed to be our own personal air-display with interest. He amazed me sometimes when he spotted a plane or a helicopter. If he saw one he would stop dead in his tracks and watch until it disappeared from view. Perhaps he was waiting to see loop the loops? I don’t know.

In warm weather, friends and acquaintances or even strangers passing by would sometimes join us on the seat beside the river, and William loved it when we had company. He enjoyed being fussed over, and he never forgot a face. If anyone spoke to him or patted him, maybe just once, he would remember them, even if it was some months before he saw them again.

I’ve watched him on many occasions, stop and stare into the distance when he spotted someone walking towards us. Thinking it was a total stranger approaching I’d say, “Come here William, it’s not anyone you know”, but he knew differently! Totally ignoring my calls to come back, he’d race joyfully to greet them. Then I’d realise that it was someone we had met, perhaps very briefly, some months earlier. I might have forgotten but he hadn’t!

Although he loved meeting people, for obvious reasons I didn’t take him to visit friends or relatives very often as he was far too boisterous, but I do vividly remember one occasion when I did. My youngest son and his wife invited me to Sunday lunch and I was told to bring William along too. He behaved quite well during the car journey to their home and then immediately upon our arrival he spotted a white leather rugby ball that my grandson had left in the middle of the lawn. He pounced on it and we all heard a loud “Hisssss!” as William’s teeth punctured it and the ball deflated. He refused to let anyone have the now totally flat ball and my grandson said, “it’s ok, let him have it”.

William kept the ball with him during our entire visit and when we returned home it came with us. He carried it everywhere! In the months ahead it lay outside on the lawn and was the first thing he looked for when he went outside in the morning, and the last thing he played with each night. He tried to sneak it inside many, many times and I’d see his face peeping around the kitchen door, ball clamped firmly between his teeth as he looked hopefully at me. “Can I bring it in this time?” His toy box, with its assortment of balls, dog pulls and squeaky toys, was totally ignored in favour of a burst rugby ball. If visitors called he’d race to grab it and show it off to them. He really loved that ball. It remained outside in all weathers until finally, about eighteen months later it had become so disgustingly chewed and filthy that I quietly sneaked what was left of it into the bin when he wasn’t looking. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to miss it too much.

Chewing his own toys however, was the only destructive thing he did. He never once chewed slippers or furniture no matter how long he was left alone, and he really hated being left alone. If I went out by myself I’d hear and feel a bump on the door as I locked it behind me, and I knew it was William settling himself in his usual spot, on the mat behind the door, waiting for my return.

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