In many ways Kelly and I agree that it was Dotty that was the catalyst for us to create an animal sanctuary.
Dotty is a black Pomeranian who came home with Kelly one Thursday July evening a couple of years after we had moved to Ross-on-Wye. Kelly at the time worked alongside a lady who, as well as her full-time job, was a trustee of a local RSPCA branch. On that Thursday morning she had come to work with this little black ball of nerves and, as Kelly put it, pretty much begged Kelly to take the dog home just for the weekend, or until Tuesday at the very latest. Dotty’s owner had just passed away and her family, rather than take on the responsibility and care of this small creature, quite literally dumped it on the doorstep of the RSPCA. Unfortunately for Dotty all the kennels were full and they had no foster parents available, so her plight was desperate – until she was brought into Kelly’s office and Kelly agreed to take her home for the weekend.
The little dog that was introduced to me that Thursday evening was frightened, nervous and utterly bewildered. Her vulnerability was totally enchanting and it would have been a cold heart that would not be swayed by her pathetic disposition. Dotty clung to Kelly’s neck with her forelegs and refused to make any eye contact with me. As I stroked her gently she soundlessly buried her head deep under Kelly’s chin.
Kelly hadn’t given me any warning that she was bringing a dog home with her, and there was no need to do so, but I was rather taken aback when she walked round the corner. She explained Dotty’s situation quickly to me and left it at that, she knew that I wouldn’t mind having a guest for the weekend – especially as I was working away for most of it.
It was inevitable that by the time Monday dawned Kelly and I had already decided that this little dog with all her timidness would be better off staying with us rather than being subjected to some sterile holding cell. In the few days she had been with us Dotty had shown nothing but nervousness and insecurity. She had followed Kelly as if she were physically attached and had shown complete subordination to Bailey, our (well Kelly’s technically) aged miniature Yorkshire terrier. Bailey for her part had taken the guest good naturedly, she showed no animosity to Dotty and accepted her with a mi casa es su casa attitude.
So Kelly went to work and had the conversation that most likely was expected – I’m convinced to this day that the plan by Kelly’s colleague was in getting Kelly to take Dotty home we would end up keeping her. Due process and formalities had to be adhered to with forms and visits and reports and then Dotty was officially signed over to us. In the short interim period however some details about Dotty had emerged. The family of her former owner had been contacted and her medical records had subsequently been identified. It transpired that for years the vet who Dotty was registered with had been recommending that the Pomeranian have teeth extractions, but these had been ignored, consequently when we got her to a vet it was plainly obvious that she was in some serious discomfort and that time was of an essence so that she would have at least some teeth left in her mouth.
Thus within days of completing the adoption this poor little creature was then subjected to an invasive oral surgery, followed not too long after by a neutering. She hadn’t had a good few weeks, but she was loved. Kelly doted on her, kept her safe, warm and looked after and gradually the little black fur ball who looked as much like a baby gorilla as a dog, gained strength and confidence and even some weight.
Dotty fitted into our small but enlarging family like a comfortable, wool lined glove as if she had always been a part. Visitors would fall in love with her easy, warm demeanour and remark on how at home she was with us. We for our part couldn’t recall a time without her, even though she had perhaps been with us for less than a month.
Then the wind changed. Or someone fed her after midnight. Or the exorcism had expired. Because one night our darling, warm, cuddly, friendly Dotty became the bitch from hell.
We were watching television, Bailey was cuddled up on Kelly’s lap, Fairy (my cat – I didn’t chose the name) was behind my head on the sofa and Dotty had fallen asleep on a large dog cushion on the floor. It was an idyllic, Rockwellian scene missing just a roaring fire. I went to stand up to go and make myself a cup of tea and as I did so I must have brushed, ever so gently, Dotty’s fur. Immediately tiny teeth were chomping at my naked feet coupled with a fierce snarling growl that was not fitting to her size. The surprise attack shocked not just me but Kelly too who just stared in wide eyed astonishment, Bailey who immediately leapt to my defence and jumped off Kelly’s lap to challenge my aggressor, and Fairy who deftly jumped off the back of the sofa and slunk into her box. For my part, whilst being shocked I was also squealing like a child as the dagger-like teeth (she hardly had any left!) sent waves of pain from my toes to my brain.
When something so out of character occurs like a savage, bloodthirsty attack from a cuddlesome fluffball, it does take a while for your brain to make sense of the situation. My brain being somewhat more challenged (I have this on good authority) took a little longer than the normal brain. Amidst the pain and the inevitable swearing it seems I was also performing an involuntary dance.
‘What did you do to her?’ Kelly eventually demanded crossly.
‘Me? I didn’t do anything.’ I bleated forlornly, ‘I didn’t even touch her, I just stood up.’
‘Well you must have done more than that, she’s furious.’
‘I didn’t even touch her, I swear,’ I answered.
Meanwhile Dotty was still trying to gnaw the flesh off my toes, growling and snarling and spitting.
‘Dotteeeee,’ Kelly turned her attention to the vicious animal besetting me, ‘Dotteeeee, come on, come to Mummy.’
And as if a switch had been flicked our Dotty returned. Her ears relaxed, her eyes turned and focussed on Kelly, her little tail wagged enthusiastically and she waddled jauntily over to Kelly, where, as Kelly lowered her hand she did a joyful little bounce to land in Kelly’s palm.
‘What the …..?’ I stammered.
Kelly cooed gently at Dotty and cuddled her up. I was sure she was whispering some disparaging words about me into Dotty’s ear because all of a sudden the two seemed thick as thieves.
‘I don’t know what you did to her, but she’s ok now’ Kelly said to me in an admonishing tone.
‘I didn’t do anything,’ I vainly pleaded, ‘I barely touched her, if at all.’
‘Well she’s fine now, go and make yourself a cup of tea,’ Kelly commanded gently, snuggling the small dog to her chest where she had promptly fallen asleep and had started snoring. I hobbled off into the kitchen.
All my life, literally all my life right up to now, my mother has repeated at frequent intervals the nursery rhyme about the little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead (no doubt my mother had a curl when she was a girl and it got ingrained in her memory!). The rhyme continues to inform us that when the girl was good she was very good indeed, but when she was bad she was horrid.
Dotty didn’t have a curl in the middle of her forehead but apart from that she shared two very significant character traits with the girl of the nursery rhyme.
As the days went on and Dotty became more and more familiar in her surroundings and clearly felt more confident that her feet were well and truly underneath the table she showed with increasing regularity both her good and her bad sides.
If visitors were with us she was the most darling of creatures imaginable, trotting up to anyone and everyone with a panting smile on her lips and a wavy tail at the back. She would coaxingly dance on her back feet as her fore feet tried to grab your attention for a cuddle or a stroke (incidentally I’m writing this in the past tense as it refers to the time when she first started showing both sides of her character, but they are just as relevant today).
If she was alone with me or Kelly or anyone, then she was the most charming of dogs, happy to be the centre of attention and more than happy to be picked up and carried around for as long as you would care to do so.
If there was a treat on offer or imminent, then she would bark (yap!) excitedly and dance around with her tail in the air and drool dripping off her chin.
She was in fact, lovely, a dog you couldn’t ever imagine falling out with, a dog that was very good indeed.
BUT, if Dotty was asleep, anytime of day or night, anywhere, and you made the slightest movement in her vicinity, her dark side would show. A side where even the force is powerless. The warning would be a low guttural growl that would unnerve an SAS veteran. A growl filled with malicious intent but emitted from a tiny body where the eyes were mere slits observing every one of your half movements. And if one of those movements dared to venture too close, the merest of millimetres too close, then a full frontal assault would be thrown into action. None of your toes were safe as a gappy, gummy jaw would thrash out at your extremities and despite the lack of teeth, whatever teeth there were would find their mark unfailingly.
The worst would be at night, on the bed.
Understandably, because of her meekness and timidity and insecurity, from day one Kelly brought Dotty into our bedroom to sleep with us along with Bailey who has always had the privilege. All was fine. Never a problem. Until the gremlin emerged from its hidey hole. From that point onwards a fitful night’s sleep was a thing of the past. Once Dotty was asleep on the bed she was not to be disturbed either accidentally or on purpose, and low betide you if you did. One tiny movement in your sleep and the hound would be awake and biting your toes, snarling malevolently. Should you dare to turn over then really you would be taking your own life in your hands.
And things didn’t improve, in fact they got worse. Dotty began to show a jealous streak towards Bailey, who from day one had been very accommodating to the new house guest. The first signs were quite subtle and it took us a while to pick up on them, if Kelly was doing her make up or getting dressed Dotty would inevitably be sat with her, but then her stance began to change from one of dependency on Kelly to one of protection. Rather than lying at her side she would sit at attention in front of her, waiting for the approach of Kelly’s one true love, Bailey. If Bailey tottered in then Dotty would begin to murmur a discontent, which over time became more of a snarl and then later on a growl. It got to the point that whenever Bailey was shown any attention whatsoever Dotty would fly into a rage of jealousy, bouncing around and barking in Bailey’s face.
From her side Bailey was very chilled, she knew how much she was loved by Kelly so took these histrionics with a pinch of salt. She would allow Dotty to bark and snarl as much as she wanted, and effectively would ignore her. But, if Dotty got just that bit to close then Bailey would put her right back in her place with a quick snap of her jaws. It wouldn’t stop Dotty from bouncing and barking, but it told her who was boss and where her place was.
But the naughty side of this little dog kept developing. She wanted to be top dog, not just of the canine family, but of the whole family, so she started making demands of Kelly and I and should we not heed her, then we would be suitably punished. Dotty craved attention and wanted always to be the centre of it. If for any reason she wasn’t then increasingly we would be chastised for it.
I have a bad habit at night of throwing my clothes into a heap on the floor, especially when I have come home in the early hours of the morning. A hanger and drawer is not foremost in my mind, all I want to do is to get into bed. You don’t expect anything to happen to your clothes in the few hours that they’re on the floor, and so when you drape them back onto your body first thing in the morning to just go and let the chickens out or do the first feed you’re not paying full attention to their condition.
The smell and feel of a small Dotty pee can be missed at first. It’s a small amount of liquid and on a cold morning your clothes are naturally chill so you can mistake dampness for coldness. The odour is not as potent as a cat’s pee which pretty much hits you as soon as you’re in the vicinity. However, both the damp and the odour permeate your senses, slowly and surely. To begin with you wonder what the smell is, especially when you’re out and about with the animals. You put it down to their smells, their creations. But when it follows you around four acres you get a little more suspicious, and then you begin to question why your t-shirt clings just a little too much to your skin. Then there is realisation. Then you know that in the few hours you had in bed Dotty had sought out your clothes and left you a message. A clear message that she did not approve of you leaving her, albeit with Kelly, for a length of time.
Dotty became very adept at using her pee for punishments. If she had had a spat with Bailey then you would see her turn tail and walk haughtily to Bailey’s bed (or one of them, she has a few!), once there she would stoop momentarily and leave her droplets of gold. Bailey’s beds have gone through the washing machine a vast number of times.
But quite possibly the worst is when you have told Dotty off. Dotty does not like to be chastised and takes it very personally, especially when she is of the firm mind that she was in the right. A habit of Dotty’s when she has been verbally disciplined is to leave you a little poo. Not immediately and not always where you’ll immediately see it, but nevertheless deliberately placed for maximum effort.
I have had poos left for me outside the shower room, just where you’re not expecting them and not so easy to observe when you’re not wearing your glasses. These poos inevitably get between your toes or in the bend of your toes and stick there with solid determination.
Dotty is a brilliant poo placer. In the middle of the night you can find one of her poos waiting for you outside the bedroom door if you have thrown her off the bed for growling just one time to many. Or sometimes you will bend down and pick one up under the kitchen table just before breakfast because you think it’s a large raisin.
Most of the time Dotty is a shadow to Kelly or as second choice to me, but when a poo has been placed she is conspicuous for her absence, blatantly waiting for the shriek of disgust and shout of her name in fury.
At first we made excuses for Dotty’s naughtiness. We put it down to the trauma she had been through. Nowadays we just put it down to her wilful nature. Her metaphoric curl.
We did however make a discovery as to why Dotty reacted so badly when awakened unexpectedly.
Should you pass by her when she was sleeping, not even touch, just pass slowly by, she would leap up and be at you. It was a violent, panicked reaction that showed in her eyes. They would be glazed and staring, reacting to a danger but not comprehending what the danger was.
At first we thought it was an aggressive streak, then it dawned on us that she was reacting totally out of fear. Perhaps the previous owners had teased and bullied her when asleep, perhaps they had hurt her – we had at this stage learnt that Dotty had had broken bones which had not had veterinary treatment. So whenever Dotty reacted like this we would seek to calm her with soothing tones and words. Then eventually we realised the obvious.
Dotty could barely see.
In fact one of her eyes was effectively blind.
It was another tug on the heart strings which Dotty was so adept at doing. One minute you’re infuriated with her for her wilfulness, the next you are cuddling and soothing her because you felt her inherent vulnerability.
This knowledge did explain much about her behaviour. It explained the manic expression on her staring eyes when suddenly awakened from sleep, it explained why she often jumped if something appeared on her right side, it explained why sometimes she appeared simply terrified in a darkened room or hallway. And for all these situations she was instantly and will always be forgiven.
However, having limited sight did not explain her otherwise obnoxious behaviours and for those she was not forgiven, or will be today. Dotty is without doubt in her head a princess (I have to say not the only one in the household) and as far as she is concerned expects always to be treated accordingly. Unfortunately for her she is treated just the same as everyone else (with one exception ….. that princess would be REALLY intolerable if I didn’t keep treating her as such), much to her frustration.
Today we have three dogs, Bailey is still with us – the grand-mere, Dotty of course – the princess, and since autumn 2024 gorgeous Tilly, another miniature Yorkshire Terrier like Bailey. Tilly, although the most recent, is without doubt top dog. She is the one that won’t stand any of Dotty’s nonsense and makes it absolutely clear that she thinks Dotty is a spoilt, stuck-up brat. In fact if Dotty is on the bed at night and we’re all settling down, Tilly will make it perfectly clear that Dotty is not welcome on the bed and will bark until either we calm her down or Dotty is placed down on the floor. There is very good reason for Tilly’s attitude. Tilly knows that if Dotty stays on the bed then none of us will get any sleep, because no sooner than we drift off I will inevitably move a toe or breathe a little too heavily or twitch a finger. This action will cause Dotty to go into a paroxysm of fury because I have upset her sleep, that will then set Tilly off barking as she crossly tells Dotty to her face that she is a pain the bum and Kelly and I both have to shout at both dogs to go back to sleep.
This sort of routine goes on about every twenty minutes or so and thus by the morning all of us are absolutely knackered. All, except for the grand-mere Bailey. Bailey sleeps through it all, snoring loudly, content in her deafness (Bailey feigns deafness, if you silently open the biscuit cupboard in the kitchen when she is fast asleep at the other end of the house, you will find her at your side with an expectant look on her face within moments, any other time she’s pretty deaf).
In fact we have a nighttime routine these days which Dotty is wholly responsible for. The routine is to decide whether to both stay in the house and sleep with the dogs, Kelly to sleep in the cabin with Dotty, me to sleep in the cabin with Tilly, or both of us to sneak out of the house and sleep in the cabin. Should we opt for the latter then I have to put my hands up and accept my cowardice. Whilst Kelly is ‘doing her face’, I sneak out to the cabin on my own and leave her to tell the dogs that they’ll be on their own that night. Frankly I can’t bear the guilt of shutting the door on three little faces at the front door in the knowledge that at that moment they hate my guts and know exactly what the subterfuge is.
Currently it’s the middle of winter. It’s not particularly cold, but it is wet and it is muddy and working outside is draining. It was particularly tiring today as I shifted a ton bag of gravel from the top gates to the goat and pig enclosures to try and help the drainage. So after I came in and showered and just before I started on this missive I just lay down on the floor in the study to ease my back and legs. Tilly, who is often by my side, was there and lay down by my feet quietly and contentedly. Then Dotty pottered in, she sidled up to my head, licked my nose and nestled into my neck. She was, as she often is, totally adorable. She was affectionate, relaxed and just wanted a little part of me for a little while. For a little while we shared precious moments. My heart was filled with warmth and I could feel the same emanating from hers. I closed my eyes and I must have drifted off. Then I must have twitched because all of a sudden there was a growling at my neck and Dotty bit my nose.
Dotty is adored, she is loved and she is doted upon. She is a favourite of visitors because she is insanely cute. And she is good, when she wants to be, really very good. But then when she’s bad, she really is horrid!
