WILLIAM

CHAPTER THREE

by JEAN NORFOLK

No matter how little money and how few possessions you own, having a dog makes you rich.
Louis Sabin.

William wasn’t a vicious dog by any means, although he might sometimes have come across as such, mainly because of his deep loud bark. He was a dog with an overpowering desire for a social life, which was why all visitors were greeted so noisily and enthusiastically. Living in a household with just one other occupant wasn’t the ideal environment for a dog like William. He loved company and went wild with delight whenever visitors arrived.

Those who knew him were unphased by his barking, but strangers would think twice if they saw or heard him. He was an excellent housedog and I could always sleep soundly in my bed at night knowing he was there.

It was a huge relief for me and I’m sure for my neighbours when we finally left our flat and moved into a bungalow. We now lived just five minutes from William’s favourite walks by the river, and even better was the fact that he now had a garden of his own where he could run freely. After the limitations of the flat it was wonderful to simply leave the door open and let him come and go as he pleased, knowing that the garden was fenced off and he couldn’t escape.

Although he loved his garden, he still looked forward to his walks with eager anticipation and at the mere mention of the word “walk” his ears would go up and he’d race around like a lunatic until I was ready to take him. When I tried to put on my jacket and shoes without saying a word, he instinctively knew what I was planning to do and would perform his wild and crazy ritual anyhow!

In the fourteen years we spent together, I walked him at least three times a day, regardless of the weather, sometimes having to push myself to the limits when I was ill and aching to stay home and go to bed. I recall one Christmas when I had a particularly bad bout of flu. I was wrapping myself up and walking him, maybe not so far as usual, then crashing out on the sofa when I got back until it was time for his next walk.

I was amazed one day when I did a bit of mental arithmetic and discovered that I had actually taken William on over fifteen thousand walks. That didn’t include the odd trip to the shops or the post-box in between, and as each of his walks covered a couple of miles I guess we must have easily walked over thirty thousand miles together! If I went out anywhere without him, people would ask me “Where’s your dog?”

William would sit quite happily outside a small local shop when I went to collect my newspaper and would wait quietly and patiently for my return. Then he’d give me a couple of barks to welcome me back. If I visited another shop a little further afield, he barked non-stop from the moment I went inside until I emerged again. The assistants would say, “We always know when you arrive – your dog tells us!” I think the reason he disliked visiting this shop so much was because it was close to a busy street, whereas our local shop is in a quieter area.

When I took him on his first, and last, visit to a supermarket, I had a very frightening experience, following which I knew I could never risk taking him again. He was obviously very nervous as we walked across the car park and he fought like a tiger as I struggled to tie him to one of the “doggie hooks” provided outside. I could hear him barking frantically as I hurried to get the one or two items I’d gone for, then I rushed back to him. He was deeply distressed and I had great trouble holding him back. He pulled me along obviously desperate to get away, then as we crossed the busy main street during a gap in the traffic, to my horror; he collapsed right in the middle of the road.

I was conscious of horns blaring and traffic stopping, then a car door opened and a man, obviously coming to see what was wrong, walked towards me. Just then, as I stroked William and spoke to him, he got to his feet again, shook his head, and slowly recovered. The man from the car asked if he was all right and as I was thanking him for his kindness William pulled me across the road. Within a few minutes he was happily walking along beside me apparently none the worse for his nasty experience and I was making a silent promise never to take him to the supermarket again, and never did.

Living alone with just a dog for company might seem like a pretty easy life to some people, but it can be really difficult when it comes to fitting in housework, gardening and shopping, alongside the inevitable “doggie time”. Some days I would return home carrying bags of heavy shopping and longing to simply sit down and put my feet up with a cup of tea, but I couldn’t, because it was time to take William out again, and he always came first.

I remember going out on hot sunny days and spending a couple of hours weeding the garden or cutting the grass, then somehow having to summon up the energy to take William for a long walk immediately afterwards. Dog owners are constant clock-watchers! Although I wouldn’t have been without him for anything in the world, it would have been wonderful just once in a while to hear someone say “Let me walk him for you today”, or “let me cut the grass.”

I was never a fair weather dog walker. I’ve walked him through rain, wind and raging blizzards. No matter what the weather was like, I never ever neglected his walks. Thunderstorms of course were different. I hate thunder although it never bothered William. He would sleep soundly through the severest storms.

Fireworks held no fears for him either, and the evening of 5th November traditionally saw me baking Christmas cakes whilst William slept soundly until the neighbours fireworks had all gone. I found it difficult to understand how he could be so upset by the hustle and bustle of a supermarket yet remain totally at ease with thunderstorms and fireworks.

Now if there’s one thing that you are guaranteed when you have a dog, it’s early mornings! I was always up and about well before six-o’clock so that I could take him for his first walk when the day was fresh and new, especially in summer. I love the feeling of peace and the silence that comes with the days awakening.

I recall so many idyllic mornings, walking back home beside the river listening to the birds singing and watching the sun just beginning to appear over the horizon. With William’s dark shape darting around on the grass just ahead of me, it seemed like we were the only two beings left in the world. The sky, early on a warm summer morning, really is a sight not to be missed.

Our journey home took us in an easterly direction and sometimes it was just as though we were walking into a huge beautiful painting. Some days it was totally breathtaking. An endless selection of art-works that seemed to be meant exclusively for our own delight and pleasure, and we were never offered the same picture more than once. Each day was different and somehow more spectacular than the day before. Shades of pink, grey, gold and orange, merged with fiery reds to create a scene of such amazing brilliance. No artist on earth could ever capture anything so aesthetically beautiful.

As we walked, the entire picture went through a kind of metamorphosis, so that by the time we reached the end of the path, this incredible display of nature was now totally changed, yet equally awe-inspiring.

One morning, very unusually, I saw a man walking towards me. He was talking on his mobile phone and then as he put the phone away in his pocket he turned around and looked up at the sky.

“I’ve just rung my wife to tell her to take a look out of the bedroom window” he said. “It’s unbelievable isn’t it?”

I had to agree with him, and I’m sure that if dogs could talk, then my dog would have agreed with him too. William and I saw some wonderful sunrises together.

Although we rarely saw other dogs on our early morning walks. We did see a rich variety of wildlife. Rabbits, wary of revealing themselves during daylight hours, enjoyed the peace and quiet that comes just after dawn as they grazed on the lush clover that grows there in abundance.

William totally ignored them, preferring to do what most dogs do – sniffing around. The rabbits seemed to sense that he meant them no harm and only occasionally did one dart back down its hole in the riverbank.

Once, just once, I saw a kingfisher. A sudden flash of brilliant blue swept past me in a second as I stood looking across the river, and before I realised, it was gone. I never saw it again.

A kestrel hunting for food was a regular and beautiful sight, and one morning I was totally enraptured to see a deer on the top of a small tree covered mound when we had almost reached the end of the river path. Fearful of alarming this beautiful creature, I softly called William and put him on his lead. I wasn’t sure how he would react when he saw it, but I needn’t have worried. We left the path and walked to the river edge and the deer, obviously aware that the path was now clear, suddenly ran like the wind right past us and headed back along the route that we had just walked. William hardly noticed and simply gave the deer the merest glance.

Our walk came to an end beside a small footbridge where local people regularly come to feed the swans and ducks on the river. In warm weather, a lovely old chap named Joe, who lived close by, would carry a couple of slices of bread in his hands each morning and we occasionally met him when we were almost home.

One particular morning stands out in my memory. I said “Good morning” to Joe and watched him as he headed off across the grass carrying his bread. He almost always walked with his hands clasped behind him, and he did so on this particular morning. I can still picture him in fawn trousers with white shirtsleeves rolled up as he walked away from us. Then William spotted the bread and realising that Joe was about to feed it to the ducks he raced after him. Before I could do anything, he grabbed it out of Joe’s hands and scoffed the lot! After that Joe always made sure that his two slices of bread were kept well out of sight if a certain dog was in the vicinity!

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