When Henry came to stay he wasn't house-trained. In fact he'd never been in a house before so we had the mamouth task of trying to house-train him.
It's not as easy training a dog that has passed the cute and cuddly puppy stage, even if technically they are still a big pup as they have learned that it dosen't matter where they go and in some cases if they wee all over the house it makes them feel more secure. But I am a patient person and was fully prepared to overcome all of Henry's problems until he became a super-dog.
During the first few days it was miracle if Henry went to the loo outside. Every night and after every meal and playtime and first thing in the morning I would put him on his lead and walk round and round the garden with him until he perfomed. This worked well when the weather was nice but most of the time during the winter here it blows about 60mph winds with sideways rain, I certainly didn't want to be out in it and I have a big winter coat to wear. For a small skinny balding dog it certainly wasn't much fun at all and he spent most of the time outside trying to get back in.
He was also scared of the wind. You can here it coming from the end of the valley 2.5 miles away and it wooooshes up into the side of the house and every time that happened Henry would croutch down and cower so that didn't make house-training any easier.
Henry also seemed to have a bit of a communication problem. Molly has learned that if she paces around the living room we know she wants to go outside. Henry wanders about, runs about, throws himself about, barks, whines, laughs, lays down, trots and bounces all the time. So you spend most of the time letting him out and he dosen't want to go and then you go into another room to find that he has been to the loo in there and that was what the last batch of energy was all about. There was no consistancy about it and we were trying to work him out while he was trying to work us out, it wasn't easy.
Then we started to turn a corner. I noticed that his 'accidents' had pretty much stopped during the day. I work from home so I'm around all the time which I had thought would be great for settling a new dog in. But as soon as I told Other Half that the accidents were getting fewer Henry would go aack 6 steps and start doing it again. I was totally stuck and didn't know what to do.
I tried every solution possible from 'Get Off' sprays to stop him from wanting to wee on things (which worked for about 4 hours and then he just wee'd on them anyway) to wee disolving solutions designed to clear up the wee and destroy the scent left by it, to making home made solutions of lemon juice and spraying that about the place and trying to cover rotten smells with all sorts of anti bacterial air fresheners. Our house was begining to smell like a kennel and I was exhausting myself trying to sort it out while Henry was exhausting himself trying to keep it smelly. If there was a house-training product or technique I had tried it. And Henry had ignored it.
Finally after five months I took him to the vets. I was trying very hard not to burst into tears as I told the vet about the problem. I wasn't being emotional, I was simply worn out by it all.
The vet listened and made nice noises about getting it sorted out which made me feel so much better. She then gave Henry a good going over, taking some samples etc just in case there was a medical problem at the bottom of this - no pun intended!
There was no medical cause. Part of me felt releived, most of me felt totally deflated that the problem couldn't be solved overnight with a couple of tablets, although actually it wouldn't be great if it was medical for Henry's sake.
On seeing my deflation, the vet then had a really long chat with me about routines and feeding and patience and actually this made me feel lots better and on leaving the surgery I felt re-energised and ready to fight the canine sewerage battle anew. I was also armed with two bottles of super dooper industrial strength wee and poo smell and scent destroyer (which were half the price of all the other stuff I 'd tried).
So off home we went, Henry sitting in the back of the car looking rather insulted by the whole experience.
Back home I got to work with the spray. It smelt of marzipan. Rather odd but I didn't care. Once I'd gone around on my hands and knees sniffing the entire carpet for smelly bits and exterminated the smell I felt so muhc happier. I gave it a night and asked my neighbour to come down the track for a smell test. When she walked in she announced that it didn't smell of wee in our house any more yippeeee! It did smell of marzipan but who cared, it didn't smell of wee.
Strangely Henry hadn't had an accident that night either so I had a blissful morning of no clearing up before my breakfast, oh what joy!
Saturday, 20 September 2008
Friday, 19 September 2008
Bouncing Furry Legs
It was on my cousins return visit from Durness that we realised Henry had begun to turn a corner with his body.
My cousin noticed that he was ever so slightly less skinny and there was the beginings of fur appearing on his legs. I suppose that being with him every day I hadn't noticed this but it was a major turning point for Henry and his recovery from near starvation. These pictures of him a short while later as for the first few weeks of his life with us my camera wasn't working and so the only really bald pictures we have are on a mobile phone but you should be able to see that his back legs are still very sparse and the lower parts of his front legs are the same.
In fact he was so skinny and so cold because of his lack of fur that he had to wear his lovely thick fleece coat all the time even when he was indoors and he had to wear another one on top when he went outside. Every evening he would curl up next to me, really close and I'd hold his poor skinny bald legs to keep them warm, he was a total heart breaker and all I could do was love him loads.
It was around this time that he started to become bouncy. And I mean really bouncy. He seemed to love having my cousin and family to stay, perhaps it was an extended pack thing but he really started to come out of himself, chasing balls, socks, anything really and it was about this time that he started to perfect his 'wind you in the stomach' leap. This involved (and still does) running at you full pelt, jumping into the air and poking you in the stomach with his front legs. It' a bit hard to describe how he does it exactly as he does a sort of extra jump on his back legs just as he does it, but it just about knocks you out! It seems to be his 'special' way of saying hello and over the last few months I've learned to very skillfully avoid it!
He also learnt to leap onto the windowsill with the skill and grace of a mountain goat. (In fact some neighbours have got goats and the way they move is very similar to Henry) he leaps with all four paws onto the arm of the sofa and then stretches his front legs accross the gap onto the windowsill to look outside. It's quite amazing to watch and rather funny when someone is sitting at that end of the sofa as a rather big dog springs onto the arm.
The main problem with this is having to constantly clean the dog art from the window, left there by Henry's nose and also being ready to clear up spilt tea from suprised visitors.
I suppose he shouldn't really be allowed to do it at all but it is rather funny to watch.
So, Henry the Leaphound was christened.
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
Full Scottish Breakfast & Black Pudding
A few days before Christmas my cousin, her husband and Mum, plus two rather large German Shepherds were coming to stay on their way up to Durness were they were to spend the holidays.
Once they arrived we tried to get all the dogs together to see how it would go, we had a contingency plan just in case they didn't like each other.
The German shepherds were huge, I mean really huge, much bigger than I remembered and Henry and Molly sniffed around them while they stoated about the garden, all dogs were on their leads,just in case. Molly was fine, she wasn't bothered about playing or jumping around, she just said hello and went off and left them to it. Henry of course was a different case. He jumped about the shepherds, they tolerated him, just. Then the big male shepherd got fed up with him and we all realised that Henry wouldn't even make a dinner for him, and not even a small snack, he'd just be a mini dog treat as he seemed so skinny in comparison. We decided that the dogs would all end up having a massive fight and a visit to the vets was not what any of us wanted just before Christmas so we resorted to keeping one pair of dogs in another room and the others in the living room with us and swapping them about every half hour or so. Needless to say, the shepherds were incredibly well behaved, so settled and took everything in their stride, I was completely in awe of them and wished my dog training skills were up to that standard!
The next morning I got up early to make everyone a huge Scottish breakfast complete with black and fruit pudding which everyone enjoyed. All too soon it was time for our lovely visitors to get going on their long trip, so we helped them with their stuff and waved goodbye, ready for the next round of Christmas visitors, Other Halfs parents who were coming down the next day.
When I went back into the house I found various contents of the kitchen bin strewn accross the kitchen, hall and living room floors. Then I noticed one of the little plastic strips that they put around the fruit and black puddings. I immediately did a mental calculation of how many strips there should be and found that there were 8 missing! They were nowhere to be seen so the only place they could be was inside a dog, but which dog?
I didn't panic, after all I've had dogs for years and they eat all sorts of things without a problem but I decided I should call the vet just in case. The vet said to bring the dogs straight to the surgery as the plastic rings could get caught in the dogs gut and cause some major problems. So I had to leave all the beds unchanged, bundle the dogs into the car and run to the vets. Molly is often car sick so I tried to drive very badly to encourage her but of course this was one of those journeys where she behaved impeccably and wasn't sick at all!
Once at the vets the dogs were taken straight through to a special room with kennels in it and I had to hold the dogs while the vet administered masses of bicarbinate of soda and water to them. We then put the dogs in the kennels and waited. The vet said the result was usually fairly instant and that it woudln't be long before we found the plastic rings again.
However the dogs had other ideas. They looked extremely insulted at what had just happened to them and stood there looking very indignant indeed. We waited, and waited, the bicarb made the dogs blow up like a pair of odd balloons but still nothing happened.
After a long time the vet said the only thing we could do was try to hurry the digestion process along by trying liquid parafin which the dogs were duly dosed with. After speaking with the vet I decided to take the dogs home, armed with all the symptoms if anything should happen and also a small bottle of liquid parafin. I also promised to try and find the rings once they were expelled.
Thus began the mystery of the disappearing plastic rings. The dogs were fine, no adverse affects to either the bicarb or parafin, most dogs would have been laying with their legs in the air doing impressions of an exploding sewer works, but oh no, my dogs did nothing at all. I then had to spend the next few days (including Christmas day) picking through all expellations (the only polite word I can think of at this moment) to find the plastic rings and they never appeared. Never.
It seems that the plastic rings around black pudding and fruit pudding from Tescos must be dissolvable as several months later the dogs are still alive dispite never finding them....
Once they arrived we tried to get all the dogs together to see how it would go, we had a contingency plan just in case they didn't like each other.
The German shepherds were huge, I mean really huge, much bigger than I remembered and Henry and Molly sniffed around them while they stoated about the garden, all dogs were on their leads,just in case. Molly was fine, she wasn't bothered about playing or jumping around, she just said hello and went off and left them to it. Henry of course was a different case. He jumped about the shepherds, they tolerated him, just. Then the big male shepherd got fed up with him and we all realised that Henry wouldn't even make a dinner for him, and not even a small snack, he'd just be a mini dog treat as he seemed so skinny in comparison. We decided that the dogs would all end up having a massive fight and a visit to the vets was not what any of us wanted just before Christmas so we resorted to keeping one pair of dogs in another room and the others in the living room with us and swapping them about every half hour or so. Needless to say, the shepherds were incredibly well behaved, so settled and took everything in their stride, I was completely in awe of them and wished my dog training skills were up to that standard!
The next morning I got up early to make everyone a huge Scottish breakfast complete with black and fruit pudding which everyone enjoyed. All too soon it was time for our lovely visitors to get going on their long trip, so we helped them with their stuff and waved goodbye, ready for the next round of Christmas visitors, Other Halfs parents who were coming down the next day.
When I went back into the house I found various contents of the kitchen bin strewn accross the kitchen, hall and living room floors. Then I noticed one of the little plastic strips that they put around the fruit and black puddings. I immediately did a mental calculation of how many strips there should be and found that there were 8 missing! They were nowhere to be seen so the only place they could be was inside a dog, but which dog?
I didn't panic, after all I've had dogs for years and they eat all sorts of things without a problem but I decided I should call the vet just in case. The vet said to bring the dogs straight to the surgery as the plastic rings could get caught in the dogs gut and cause some major problems. So I had to leave all the beds unchanged, bundle the dogs into the car and run to the vets. Molly is often car sick so I tried to drive very badly to encourage her but of course this was one of those journeys where she behaved impeccably and wasn't sick at all!
Once at the vets the dogs were taken straight through to a special room with kennels in it and I had to hold the dogs while the vet administered masses of bicarbinate of soda and water to them. We then put the dogs in the kennels and waited. The vet said the result was usually fairly instant and that it woudln't be long before we found the plastic rings again.
However the dogs had other ideas. They looked extremely insulted at what had just happened to them and stood there looking very indignant indeed. We waited, and waited, the bicarb made the dogs blow up like a pair of odd balloons but still nothing happened.
After a long time the vet said the only thing we could do was try to hurry the digestion process along by trying liquid parafin which the dogs were duly dosed with. After speaking with the vet I decided to take the dogs home, armed with all the symptoms if anything should happen and also a small bottle of liquid parafin. I also promised to try and find the rings once they were expelled.
Thus began the mystery of the disappearing plastic rings. The dogs were fine, no adverse affects to either the bicarb or parafin, most dogs would have been laying with their legs in the air doing impressions of an exploding sewer works, but oh no, my dogs did nothing at all. I then had to spend the next few days (including Christmas day) picking through all expellations (the only polite word I can think of at this moment) to find the plastic rings and they never appeared. Never.
It seems that the plastic rings around black pudding and fruit pudding from Tescos must be dissolvable as several months later the dogs are still alive dispite never finding them....
We wish you a merry Christmas
We'd had Henry for three weeks when Christmas was upon us.
We had deffered putting up the tree for as long as possible as we just knew that we would be wakened in the dead of night to the sound of it crashing to the floor with a dog in the middle of it, but we could put it off no more. This was to be the first Christmas in this house so the first thing we had to do was locate the tree and decorations. Henry of course was very interested in all of this and followed us around while we tried to find the boxes.
We live in a rather old cottage where the upstairs rooms are part of the roof, this means that there is a sort of tunnel which runs around the rooms upstairs, all around the upper part of the house. We found the tree and deccorations just inside one of the hatches to the tunnel. We also saw a stripey tail disappearing into the tunnel once we'd pulled the boxes out.
Thankfully we managed to catch hold of Henrys tail just before it completely disappeared and managed to pull him back through the hatch - I had visions of calling the fire brigade and of them crawling round and round the roof of the house while Henry ran round and round just ahead of them, that and it all being filmed by Animal Rescue and being made to feel like a bad pet owner.
Putting the tree up was actually not quite as bad as we expected. Henry and also Molly kept putting their heads into boxes and trying to work out what was going on but all in all they took to having a mini part of the forest outside all in their stride.
Night time was also a bit of a suprise as the tree remained standing, the decorations along the fireplace had all been removed and thrown around the living room, killed and then left but apart from that we were very very pleased. Fergus always used to wee up the Christmas tree in his efforts to continually terrorise Other Half and we had remembered to unplug all the lights, just in case!
Things were looking promising for Christmas yey!
We had deffered putting up the tree for as long as possible as we just knew that we would be wakened in the dead of night to the sound of it crashing to the floor with a dog in the middle of it, but we could put it off no more. This was to be the first Christmas in this house so the first thing we had to do was locate the tree and decorations. Henry of course was very interested in all of this and followed us around while we tried to find the boxes.
We live in a rather old cottage where the upstairs rooms are part of the roof, this means that there is a sort of tunnel which runs around the rooms upstairs, all around the upper part of the house. We found the tree and deccorations just inside one of the hatches to the tunnel. We also saw a stripey tail disappearing into the tunnel once we'd pulled the boxes out.
Thankfully we managed to catch hold of Henrys tail just before it completely disappeared and managed to pull him back through the hatch - I had visions of calling the fire brigade and of them crawling round and round the roof of the house while Henry ran round and round just ahead of them, that and it all being filmed by Animal Rescue and being made to feel like a bad pet owner.
Putting the tree up was actually not quite as bad as we expected. Henry and also Molly kept putting their heads into boxes and trying to work out what was going on but all in all they took to having a mini part of the forest outside all in their stride.
Night time was also a bit of a suprise as the tree remained standing, the decorations along the fireplace had all been removed and thrown around the living room, killed and then left but apart from that we were very very pleased. Fergus always used to wee up the Christmas tree in his efforts to continually terrorise Other Half and we had remembered to unplug all the lights, just in case!
Things were looking promising for Christmas yey!
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
Two Steps Forward....
After a few weeks of saintly patience we seemed to be getting somewhere with Henry's night time anctics. He had finally quietened down and had stopped all the barking and howling and running around for no reason in the middle of the night.
The difference this made to my sleep pattern was amazing, finally I could go to sleep at 10.30 and stay asleep until 6.00am, just about a whole nights sleep.
The house training wasn't really coming along though, well it was a bit but nowhere near as well as it should have been and I needed to keep my eyes glued to Henry all the time otherwise he would go off and leave a nice smelly present for me, usually in the middle of the living room floor.
One of Henry's other mad habits was eating. I dont mean eating like a normal dog, Henry eats like a mad thing, as if he's never eaten before in his life. I suppose that being starved to within an inch of your life would make you slightly obssessed with getting every morsel of food that you can but Henry had taken this to extremes.
One of my little luxuries in life had been eating my breakfast on the sofa in the living room whilst watching the news on tv. Not any more! On emerging from kitchen with my bowl of cornflakes and milk Henry would do a very good impression of a merecat on his hindlegs whilst walking backwards and trying to get his nose into my bowl all at the same time. Being a rather big dog this meant I had to hold the bowl up above my head.
Sitting on the sofa for breakfast was a complete hazard, Henry had absolutely no manners whatsoever and tried to simply push his way past my fending off legs and eat the contents of the bowl. First thing in the morning just after I had cleaned up the nightly poo and pee and been jumped over the last thing I felt like doing was fighting with a dog for my breakfast so I took to eating in the kitchen with the door firmly shut and Radio 4 for company.
This didn't really solve anything though as it meant that no-one could eat anything in the living room, not even a chewy toffee without Henry on their lap trying to extract it from their mouth so I decided I should persist with the sofa breakfasts.
It took a few mornings but it finally paid off, I started off by standing up and holding the bowl high in the air between spoonfuls, then I progressed to sitting on the arm of the sofa using my legs to fend Henry off. After a couple of days I eventually sat on the sofa, again using my legs to fend him off at one stage he ended up standing on the sofa back looming over me from behind but I still wouldn't give in.
And eventually I could go back to my morning tv and bowl of cereal without a dogs nose in the bowl.
The difference this made to my sleep pattern was amazing, finally I could go to sleep at 10.30 and stay asleep until 6.00am, just about a whole nights sleep.
The house training wasn't really coming along though, well it was a bit but nowhere near as well as it should have been and I needed to keep my eyes glued to Henry all the time otherwise he would go off and leave a nice smelly present for me, usually in the middle of the living room floor.
One of Henry's other mad habits was eating. I dont mean eating like a normal dog, Henry eats like a mad thing, as if he's never eaten before in his life. I suppose that being starved to within an inch of your life would make you slightly obssessed with getting every morsel of food that you can but Henry had taken this to extremes.
One of my little luxuries in life had been eating my breakfast on the sofa in the living room whilst watching the news on tv. Not any more! On emerging from kitchen with my bowl of cornflakes and milk Henry would do a very good impression of a merecat on his hindlegs whilst walking backwards and trying to get his nose into my bowl all at the same time. Being a rather big dog this meant I had to hold the bowl up above my head.
Sitting on the sofa for breakfast was a complete hazard, Henry had absolutely no manners whatsoever and tried to simply push his way past my fending off legs and eat the contents of the bowl. First thing in the morning just after I had cleaned up the nightly poo and pee and been jumped over the last thing I felt like doing was fighting with a dog for my breakfast so I took to eating in the kitchen with the door firmly shut and Radio 4 for company.
This didn't really solve anything though as it meant that no-one could eat anything in the living room, not even a chewy toffee without Henry on their lap trying to extract it from their mouth so I decided I should persist with the sofa breakfasts.
It took a few mornings but it finally paid off, I started off by standing up and holding the bowl high in the air between spoonfuls, then I progressed to sitting on the arm of the sofa using my legs to fend Henry off. After a couple of days I eventually sat on the sofa, again using my legs to fend him off at one stage he ended up standing on the sofa back looming over me from behind but I still wouldn't give in.
And eventually I could go back to my morning tv and bowl of cereal without a dogs nose in the bowl.
Sunday, 3 August 2008
Progress
Despite the lightheartedness of previous entries into this blog life with Henry was hard work. I'm a really patient person when it comes to animals, realising that they cannot speak and usually any trouble they are in is due to us humans. So faced with a dog who had been so badly neglected as Henry my patience was super high.
My sleep levels weren't. Every night I would let Henry and Molly out for a pee last thing before we went to bed. I'd settle the dogs down on their beds, pull the living room door to and go to my own bed.
After five minutes Henry would get up, wander around and start to howl, bark, cry, whine, jump, run and generally cause havoc. Other Half had said he didn't want dogs in the bedroom so I had to close the door over but I think this was what was making Henry get all stressed. I persisted nonetheless as Molly was quite happy downstairs and I was sure Henry would settle in time.
The barking and howling was rather hard to sleep to though and it would go on for hours every single night, then he would settle down at about 2 or 3am only to start again at around 5.30am.
I'd get up at around 6ish, get a rapturous welcome of a two springing stripey hounds jumping up like mad things the moment I opened the door (Molly never used to do that) and find all sorts of deposits left for me by Henry.
It wasn't easy, as cleaning up dog poo, dog pee and avoiding getting jumped all over first thing in the morning by two very big dogs can test the patience of a saint, beleive me.
So after a few nights, Other Half decided he wasn't putting up with the howling and barking any more and he yelled at Henry to shut up at about 12.30am. It worked. I was amazed. But I still had to clear up the poo and pee the next morning, and avoid the mad jumping up and he was still starting to howl and bark at 5.30am.
My patience persisted though, and my progress was getting nowhere, at one point I decided I must be the most patient person in the world as surely no-one could be so sleep deprived and still happily clean up poo in their pyjamas at 6.40am ever morning.
I really didn't know what else to do other than be patient. I was sure Henry would settle down eventually, in the 6 months he had been alive he had been with his mother, then gone to another home, then left to wander and fend for himself, then picked up by the dog warden, put into the dog pound, put on death row, given a repreive by the lovely ladies at Greyhounds Galore, put into their kennel and and then come to live with me. That was five homes (that I know of) in six months and he was still really a big pup who no-one had bothered to socialise, train or let him know what was expected of him so to be patient with him was all I could do for him just now until he settled.
My sleep levels weren't. Every night I would let Henry and Molly out for a pee last thing before we went to bed. I'd settle the dogs down on their beds, pull the living room door to and go to my own bed.
After five minutes Henry would get up, wander around and start to howl, bark, cry, whine, jump, run and generally cause havoc. Other Half had said he didn't want dogs in the bedroom so I had to close the door over but I think this was what was making Henry get all stressed. I persisted nonetheless as Molly was quite happy downstairs and I was sure Henry would settle in time.
The barking and howling was rather hard to sleep to though and it would go on for hours every single night, then he would settle down at about 2 or 3am only to start again at around 5.30am.
I'd get up at around 6ish, get a rapturous welcome of a two springing stripey hounds jumping up like mad things the moment I opened the door (Molly never used to do that) and find all sorts of deposits left for me by Henry.
It wasn't easy, as cleaning up dog poo, dog pee and avoiding getting jumped all over first thing in the morning by two very big dogs can test the patience of a saint, beleive me.
So after a few nights, Other Half decided he wasn't putting up with the howling and barking any more and he yelled at Henry to shut up at about 12.30am. It worked. I was amazed. But I still had to clear up the poo and pee the next morning, and avoid the mad jumping up and he was still starting to howl and bark at 5.30am.
My patience persisted though, and my progress was getting nowhere, at one point I decided I must be the most patient person in the world as surely no-one could be so sleep deprived and still happily clean up poo in their pyjamas at 6.40am ever morning.
I really didn't know what else to do other than be patient. I was sure Henry would settle down eventually, in the 6 months he had been alive he had been with his mother, then gone to another home, then left to wander and fend for himself, then picked up by the dog warden, put into the dog pound, put on death row, given a repreive by the lovely ladies at Greyhounds Galore, put into their kennel and and then come to live with me. That was five homes (that I know of) in six months and he was still really a big pup who no-one had bothered to socialise, train or let him know what was expected of him so to be patient with him was all I could do for him just now until he settled.
I'm Henry the 8th I am I am
By now we'd had the new dog five days. He still didn't have a name and he still wasn't housetrained. Ok I didn't expect him to be housetrained by now but he really should have a name.
I had decided against FergusII as this dog just was Fergus and it seemed wrong to Fergus to semi erase him by giving his name to another dog. But that left me with a problem because for years I'd always said I'd call my next dog FergsII, so I was on the hunt for another name.
I decided to look up baby naming websites as I thought this was as good a place as any to get a name but have you seen how many names are out there? It was impossible, espcecially as the dog was holding back on his personality due to so much happening to him in a week, although he was showing slight signs of the madness attached to all the dogs I've had.
There were lots of things to consider in choosing the dogs name, would it be badly out of fashion in a few years? Would I always have to explain why I called him what I did? Would I always have to spell it at the vets, groomers etc? Would it sound ridiculous being shouted out loud in public?
So many dilemas and without a single idea.
I decided to start at A and work my way through the alphabet until somthing hit me.
To start with I tried Fergus. This only proved to make Molly come tearing up to me looking for Fergus. Other half suggested Taxi in response to the calling out loud in public problem, but he wasn't a taxi he was a dog! I quite fancied Saluk as he is a half (or more Saluki) but Other Half said that was just silly. So again I was stuck.
Then a trailer for the BBC series The Tudors came on tv. I'm really into history and while Jonathan Rhys Myers was breifly on the screen it came to me in a flash. Henry the 8th had ginger hair. The new dog has ginger fur (with stripes which I'm sure Henry the 8th didn't have but you never know) and I'm really into history so there it was.
I went out into the garden with the dog and as he wandered around I called Henry and he came bombing up to me so the decision had been made, Henry was here. Henry the Leaphound was yet to make himself apparent.
I had decided against FergusII as this dog just was Fergus and it seemed wrong to Fergus to semi erase him by giving his name to another dog. But that left me with a problem because for years I'd always said I'd call my next dog FergsII, so I was on the hunt for another name.
I decided to look up baby naming websites as I thought this was as good a place as any to get a name but have you seen how many names are out there? It was impossible, espcecially as the dog was holding back on his personality due to so much happening to him in a week, although he was showing slight signs of the madness attached to all the dogs I've had.
There were lots of things to consider in choosing the dogs name, would it be badly out of fashion in a few years? Would I always have to explain why I called him what I did? Would I always have to spell it at the vets, groomers etc? Would it sound ridiculous being shouted out loud in public?
So many dilemas and without a single idea.
I decided to start at A and work my way through the alphabet until somthing hit me.
To start with I tried Fergus. This only proved to make Molly come tearing up to me looking for Fergus. Other half suggested Taxi in response to the calling out loud in public problem, but he wasn't a taxi he was a dog! I quite fancied Saluk as he is a half (or more Saluki) but Other Half said that was just silly. So again I was stuck.
Then a trailer for the BBC series The Tudors came on tv. I'm really into history and while Jonathan Rhys Myers was breifly on the screen it came to me in a flash. Henry the 8th had ginger hair. The new dog has ginger fur (with stripes which I'm sure Henry the 8th didn't have but you never know) and I'm really into history so there it was.
I went out into the garden with the dog and as he wandered around I called Henry and he came bombing up to me so the decision had been made, Henry was here. Henry the Leaphound was yet to make himself apparent.
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