A post should appear every Sunday

Sunday February 11th 2024

It has rained, and on one perfect, pouring day, I wrap Isis in Ellie’s preloved raincoat, and we spend an hour roaming the streets. Unfortunately, though, mostly the rain falls at night, and resumes late in the afternoon, so we miss it.

Sometimes, Isis would try the patience of a saint.

And I’m no saint.

To be fair, she only does this when she takes it into her head that she’ll refuse to co-operate on a road walk. Now, to be fair to her human too, Isis is never expected to walk in adverse conditions – that is if the sun is out, or the sky is bright, or there’s a gale force wind.

As we know, for the last two weeks, I’ve not been able to take her to the park because an eye problem prevents me from driving. Day after day, she joyfully greets her harness and lead, dances and tugs excitedly, then walks to the car and stands waiting to be let in.

Day after day she is disappointed.

Wednesday is a particularly cold day, but knowing that we’ll only be outside for a few minutes, I don’t bother to put on neck warmer or gloves.

Then it happens. She decides she’ll have a pavement walk, and sets off seeking the first interesting scent she can find. An army of creatures has passed this way since she last came along, so much of the walk is spent with her wiggly black and pink nose glued to walls, fences, shrubs and gate posts.

It’s chilly without neck warmer and gloves, but I’m so pleased she’s enjoying herself that I hardly register the icy blasts. We walk for about fifty minutes, which is very pleasing.

I’m guessing that she realises at last that we’re not going in the car. (How strange the actions of humans must seem to their pets.)

After this breakthrough, we go out each day. Although it is challenging to get her going, once we’re on our way, and the smells become more and more beguiling, we usually walk for about fifty minutes.

That’s O.K. It’s not as good as the park where she can be free, but at least she’s out of the house and getting some exercise.

She’s also made friends with Alyn, superb painter and decorator, who is transforming the erstwhile very scruffy walls and ceilings of hall, stairway and landing from a heart sinking griminess into a pristine space.

The change is uplifting. It’s inspired me to wax the new wooden doors which have been installed for almost two years, the glass panes of the downstairs ones retaining their rectangles of dusty, bedraggled film. They need two coats of wax on both sides. At present it’s nine sides completed, six to go. Once finished, they look beautiful, so I’ve even been inspired to begin sanding the landing floor boards which already sanded once, should have been varnished immediately, but weren’t.

“Well,” says my friend Chris on a flying visit, “It takes you a very long time to start, but you aren’t half thorough when you do!”

Anyway, back to The Hairy One. She is at least experiencing some variety in her life. She likes to sit with Alyn while he’s getting changed or gathering his kit together in the front room. I don’t know whether she is ensuring that he doesn’t make off with the her rug, or simply keeping him company, but, although she still sniffs his shoes and the bottoms of his trousers each time he arrives, she no longer barks and spins, appears to be at ease with him, and even accepts being stroked a little. He is a kind and gentle person who understands her need to instigate their contact.

So, with a new friend and regular exercise, life is more pleasant for both Isis and Human, and both can enjoy stress free ambles.

Not today though.

Dog knows why. We don’t venture out until the sun has gone in. There shouldn’t  be a problem. Eventually Isis chooses the direction in which she will walk, or, as it transpires, in which she will not walk. Having crossed the road, she decides that she’ll go home now. Perversely, I decide that she will not go home, at least until we’ve reached the bin where I can deposit the dog bags.

It is no fallacy that podengoes can be very stubborn – downright bloody minded, in fact. She is at her most resistant. She tries every trick in the book to get her own way, and, I fancy, quite a number of tricks which aren’t in the book: she attempts to pull me backwards; she plants her backside firmly on the pavement and refuses point blank to move; numerous times she walks across my path towards the road, and makes as if to cross; she tugs me into the mud, pulls her head back in order to escape from her harness; she stands stock still in the middle of the pavement, obstructing the passage of babies in prams, and arm-linked couples.

I tap her under her chin, hissing “Enough!” into her beautiful ears. When people walk by and smile, I force a grimacy grin. (Yes, I’m sure you’re right that there’s no such word as ‘grimacy’, but I like it.)

I almost need to employ a chisel to remove her bottom from the flagstones, but I force her to her feet, then tickle her rear to get her moving. I drag her back from the side of the road, stepping in the large patch of sticky mud I’ve been taking pains to avoid, I step adroitly back when she crosses in front of me, patiently ease my foot from beneath her paws when she stands on me, and urge her on.

At last we reach the bin and cross the road.

Immediately, her demeanour becomes one of a normal dog enjoying a normal walk. She stops to sniff the grass, the paving stones, lamposts and other street furniture with interest, even lingering over a choice scent. We walk back home at a relaxed pace. She no longer stops in the middle of the small side streets we – or, to be accutrate, I – am attempting to cross.

She has become the perfect canine companion on a Sunday walk.

Why, you may well wonder, do I insist on her walking when she doesn’t want to. Perhaps she’s feeling tired or unwell. Yes, I used to fall for that one too, but am not so easily fooled when she suddenly runs ahead, towing me behind, in pursuit of an innocent feline who has recently walked the pavement on its way home.

My previous dogs liked to pause to exchange greetings with any friendly cat they came across sitting in its gateway. Isis, I know, has no such benevolent intention.

Or do I persist because I’m as stubborn as she is?

Perhaps.

After all, one needs to be stubborn if one’s dog is a podengo?

Isis came from Aeza cat and dog rescue in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@azea.org or go to http://www.dogwatch.co.uk.