Tugger and Teri were a spirited pair of 5-year-old English cocker spaniels much loved by their owner. For most of his life, Tugger had traveled the show circuit scoring conformation wins and bragging rights while Teri stayed home enjoying the owner’s undivided attention. After Tugger was retired from competition, the pups set about to prove two spaniel brains were better than one. Tugger and Teri became an incorrigible pair: irresistibly cute, smart, high energy, mischievous, and not house trained. I was hired in the hope that long walks would curb naughty ambitions while encouraging the dogs to piddle and poop away from the house.
But the dogs had always relieved themselves at home. The owner encouraged the pups to use the back garden though she did object to Tugger’s habit of regularly refreshing home goods and personal items with a splash of his signature fragrance. From dry cleaning temporarily draped over a chair to new toss pillows on the couch, anything within reach was subject to a quick squirt.
Bad weather blues
Because the dogs were not house trained, Tugger and Teri were confined during owner absences. In good weather the back garden was perfect: all brick and stone with high walls, floor drains and a hose. Not great was bad weather when the pups were left in the finished basement with a thick layer of newspaper covering the middle of the tile floor, the owner’s invitation to “go here.”
Basement confinement was stressful for everybody. The dogs would pace the room scattering newspaper, stopping only to pee on the exposed tile. Which was often. Tugger especially would circle the room at a trot, as he once did in the show ring, a tendency that seemed to be self-soothing. By the time I arrived, the floor would be covered with puddles, prints, and sodden lumps of newspaper. There was no way to avoid two bouncy, joyous pups as they patterned my clothing with pee-soaked paws. Worse, we were trapped in that space until the mess was cleaned up.
Off to church we go
The weather was perfect on our first walk together. The dogs were frisky making it somewhat challenging to attach the leashes but I reassured myself they were excited, perhaps a little nervous, but how bad could they be? Turns out pretty bad. The dogs pulled with an almost diabolical intensity, their little necks kinked like garden hoses.
To safeguard their necks and my shoulders, our daily drag ended at an old churchyard a few blocks away. The property was expansive, enclosed on all sides by a high brick wall with a massive wrought iron gate that stood open to the public. On one side of the church was a cemetery, on the other a lush, tree-shaded lawn that became our regular midday destination. Chasing tennis balls exhilarated and exhausted Tugger while Teri preferred lazing in the grass looking adorable.
The churchyard was our happy place. Teri’s quiet presence and Tugger’s intense and eager enjoyment made all the unpleasantness worthwhile (except for the basement stuff).
Two years later, the owner moved from the city to a large home situated on a few wooded acres. Tugger and Teri loved the country life.
