WILLIAM

PART THREE

by JEAN NORFOLK

The one absolute, unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world – the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous – is his dog….

When William was a puppy, a visit to the vets was an easy task. Not so when he got older, so it was fortunate that until the last three or four years of his life he hardly ever needed veterinary treatment. As an adult dog he viewed the vet’s surgery as a medieval torture chamber! He was absolutely petrified when he realised where we were going, and when we were a mile or so away from the surgery he’d know instinctively where we were heading, and his entire body would begin to shake and he’d dribble uncontrollably.

As we drove into the car park at the vets he’d begin struggling to escape and he was as strong as a horse! It took every ounce of my strength to keep hold of him. He’d whine and howl and look up at me pleadingly with an expression that said it all “How could you bring me here when you know how I hate it?” I had to literally drag him inside and I always said a silent prayer that we wouldn’t be kept waiting for too long.

The first time he needed treatment was when he had to have a build up of blood on the flap of his ear drained. William was so terrified, it took the vet and her assistant, along with my son and I, to hold him down until this was done, and we were all covered in scratches and bruises, not to mention hot and totally exhausted by the time it was over!

A few months later he had to go back to have exactly the same treatment done again, when once more the same problem recurred. This time we saw a different vet who was absolutely wonderful with him. She explained that the trouble with his ear had been caused by him shaking his head too vigorously, perhaps because of itching in his inner ear.

To my immense relief, she didn’t insist on William being lifted up onto the table, which is not an easy thing to do with a scared full-grown adult dog. “Leave him where he is”, she said, “and I’ll kneel down beside him.”

She stroked him and talked softly to him for a couple of minutes, gently coaxing him to allow her to look at his ear. I felt the tension on his lead slowly loosen as he began to relax and warm to her. She gently inserted the hypodermic syringe into his ear whilst continuing to whisper to him. “Good Boy! My aren’t you a good brave boy?”

I could scarcely believe it when this lovely young woman had completed the whole operation with such relative ease but almost before I had an opportunity to thank her, William, realising that the dreaded deed was done, almost yanked my arm off in his eagerness to get outside once more!

All went well for a couple of years then I was forced to take him back once more when he had problems with his teeth. I was told to return with him at eight-thirty the following morning when I would have to leave him there all day and he would be given a general anaesthetic to allow the vet to inspect all his teeth. It broke my heart to see him being dragged off into the unknown by a veterinary assistant as he barked and howled and looked back at me with an expression of terror and disbelief, no doubt wondering why I was deserting him for the first time in his life.

I was sick with apprehension as we drove back home without him. I had been told to telephone the surgery at three o’clock that afternoon for news of his progress and I tried to find something to do to take my mind off William, but I couldn’t. I was so worried about him I couldn’t eat a thing.

I waited and waited until finally, at two thirty, I could wait no longer so I picked up the telephone.

“He’s not recovered from the anaesthetic yet. Call back in an hour!” I was told.

I called again at three thirty, then at four o’clock then again and again. Finally at around six o’clock I was told “You can come and collect him”. I couldn’t get there quickly enough!

My eldest son drove me there in the Landrover that had taken William to the vet’s that morning. When we arrived he said “I’ll go across and collect him whilst you are in reception paying the bill.” I did as he asked and the vet who had operated on William was waiting to see me. I was told that he had extracted five teeth and had discovered an abscess under one of them so he prescribed a course of antibiotics for him to take over the following week.

I went back to the car park, eager to see my dog and I spotted my son holding William on his lead as they waited for me to return. For a few seconds I was convinced that he had got the wrong dog! He looked ten years older than he had done when I left him that morning and as he stood there looking so obviously weak and frail with blood still dripping from his mouth, I almost wept. I tried to reach out and stroke him but William was having none of that. Although still dazed and muddled, he spotted the vehicle that had brought him there earlier and pulled us towards it as if to say “Come on, take me home” He leapt up inside, but refused to lie down on his blanket. Instead he insisted on standing behind me as I sat in the passenger seat in front, so that he could look straight ahead. I think he wanted to be certain that we were heading in the right direction – home!

After a couple of days he was almost back to normal. He regained his youthful looks once more and was no longer the sorry old chap I had seen emerge from the vet’s operating room. Somehow though, I couldn’t help feeling that if he had been a cat this operation would have used up a couple of his nine lives.

He still enjoyed his walks now, albeit at a rather more leisurely pace than previously. Sometimes he would stop and look up at me and I knew what he was thinking.

“Do you want to go back?” I would ask, and he’d and turn around, eager to return home, fleetingly displaying his old exuberance and spirit before settling into his now familiar steady pace.

Now the distance and speed of our daily walks was dictated by him, as was the destination. He discovered that suddenly he had a choice and I’m sure he relished the idea of being in charge. I found myself being led to places we had visited only infrequently in the past and William was excited by all the fresh unfamiliar scents and smells, although he tired easily and would sometimes be exhausted by the time we got back home. Looking back I wonder if perhaps I expected too much of him; after all he was now almost twelve years old which in human terms would have made him over eighty! I would console myself with the fact that his parents had both lived to be six years older than he was now so I hoped that he too would be blessed with a few more years yet.

One day I decided on a sudden impulse to take him to a place that had been special to me but one that William had never visited, the place where I was brought up as a child. Although now rather different to the place I remember all those years ago, a lot of the old landscape still survives. The lane that I walked so many times as a child is still there and provides a temporary respite from the constant noise of traffic that is left behind as you leave the busy road.

I set William free and he immediately began darting from one side of the lane to the other, sniffing excitedly and exploring the ditches on either side. So many landmarks were familiar to me, yet everything was fresh and new to my dog.

Halfway along the lane, a motorway service station now occupies land to the right. As a child I recall the testing sheds for aeroplane engines that were built there during the war, and the incessant din driving my poor father wild as he tried to sleep following a night shift at the local factory. Beyond the service station the fields widen a little more and the motorway is in the distance to the right. I could then have almost believed that I had stepped back in time had it not been for the housing estate high on the hills to the left. As a child I had wandered across the open fields never dreaming that one day the farms would disappear and the land would be swallowed up by dozens and dozens of houses. Thankfully, the lane still leads up to the last remaining farm, and a cottage that I remembered as a child is still there, and still occupied by the same owner who lived there then. Alas, my old home is now long gone and a large new bungalow now stands in its place.

William was too excited to be tired that day but I couldn’t help wishing he could have seen it as it was all those years ago when, as a child, I raced around playing with other dogs who were free-spirits and allowed to run freely wherever they wanted to. I don’t remember us ever having a dog lead; we had no use for one, although I do recall my Dad always keeping a bit of string in his pocket just in case! I guess we lived in what must have been a paradise for dogs.

The field where I had sat beneath the pear trees eating windfalls was still there and it brought a lump to my throat to see William, with his tail wagging enthusiastically, enjoying his few precious minutes of freedom close to the spot where Nellie, a beloved old dog of mine from childhood, was buried.

As we turned to go back down the lane, away from memories of the past, I was glad that I had decided to take William there. Somehow I knew that it would be his, and possibly my last visit. He thoroughly enjoyed himself that day, and in spite of the distance we had covered, it seemed to have invigorated him. He wasn’t quite so tired as I had imagined he would be and it felt good to know that sharing my memories with him had given him so much pleasure.

He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. When all other friends desert he remains. George G. Vest.

I have so many memories of William but I guess one vivid image of him that will remain with me forever, is seeing him running along, with his nose making a furrow in freshly fallen snow. He simply loved snow, and if I made snowballs and threw them at him he was in seventh heaven! I can still see him snatching them up and spitting them out in bits with his tail wagging as he waited eagerly for another one. He would roll over and over in the lovely white stuff before standing up and shaking himself dry with an expression of sheer bliss on his face.

Like most dogs he was capable of finding pleasure in the simplest things. If he discovered an empty discarded plastic bottle he would swoop on it with delight, instantly claiming this new-found ‘treasure’ as his. He’d run along ahead of me, bottle crackling noisily as he clamped his teeth around it. He’d flatly refuse to give it up, and the only thing that could persuade him to change his mind would be the sight of another more appealing treasure, such as a stick or a log.

One day, after workmen had been pruning trees along the footpath by the river; William spotted a branch lying on the ground. In spite of its size and weight, and my loud protests, he picked up the branch and ran on ahead of me, dragging it along and looking for all the world like Santa’s lost reindeer!

The branch was wider than the path and I could see walkers hastily jumping onto the grass verges as this huge branch with William hidden somewhere underneath, hurtled towards them. A couple of times he turned around and raced back along the path towards me, and then it was my turn to leap out of the way!

One day I took him into a field behind our local shop. William, always on the lookout for ‘treasure’ spotted an empty cardboard carton. He raced towards it and grabbed the open end so that his face was inside the box, then ran across the field totally unaware of where he was going. He couldn’t see a thing except the inside of the box and I couldn’t help laughing as I watched what appeared to be a cardboard box with legs racing around the field.

A large blue van was parked on the opposite side of the field and I saw to my dismay that William was heading straight towards it. I called out to him but he was so filled with elation at finding this new toy that he didn’t hear me, or chose not to. Of course, he crashed right into the van with a loud thud, and ground to a sudden halt. Then he simply looked around to get his bearings again, picked up the box once more and ran off again apparently none the worse for his mishap.

So many things gave him pleasure. At home, if I pretended to chase him around the coffee table in the living room, he’d eagerly join in the game by running half-way around then waiting for my next move before doubling back mischievously, knowing full well that I hadn’t a hope of out manoeuvring him and catching him!

If I said, “Shall we have a cuppa?” he’d jump to his feet, barking, and rush excitedly into the kitchen to watch me prepare it. He loved tea or coffee, especially milky coffee, and would wait impatiently until I poured it into his bowl.

Milk is not considered to be good for dogs, but he loved it. If he saw me take milk out of the fridge he’d sit there looking up hopefully at me, then at the milk container, conveying his thoughts silently, yet meaningfully. I couldn’t resist pouring him a small helping into his bowl.

He loved chocolates too, especially Malteser’s, but I had to harden myself and limit his intake to no more than four, just a couple of times a week. He would have polished off the lot in one session if I had allowed him to.

Although he loved dog chews, he disliked dog chocolates and refused to eat them.

When the television soap ‘Brookside’ ended its long run and the final episode was broadcast, I was almost tempted to write to the producers to tell them that my dog William was one of the shows staunchest fans! Not because he liked watching the show, but because of the theme tune which he recognised immediately he heard it.

I always took him out for a short walk, or a play in the garden, when the programme ended and as soon as he heard the final music he would race around frantically, knowing it was his time to go outside. He never reacted to the music played during the interval, but just to the music at then end of each episode.

I remember going out into the garden one such evening with him. The sky was beginning to darken as day turned to night and I saw him stop and look up. Then I heard a strange noise that gradually grew louder and louder and for a few seconds I was totally bewildered as to what it was. Then I saw a skein of geese, just above the rooftops, heading in the direction of the river, their noisy chattering totally filling the air as they approached their destination just before nightfall.

William was always a sound sleeper and even if I got up during the night he would sleep on. I regularly find it impossible to sleep so often sit up reading until the early hours, but it never seemed to bother him at all. If he heard the slightest sound outside, however, he would be wide-awake and out of his basket like a shot!

Sometimes I would think that he’d just imagined it or perhaps been dreaming, but he would pace up and down ‘wuffing’ softly and giving out that little groan of exasperation that he kept for whenever he was frustrated and unable to investigate any suspicious goings on. I knew that if I had opened the door and let him out he would have barked and made enough racket to wake everyone for miles around!

No matter what kind of night we had had, however, William would always poke his head around the bedroom door first thing to see if I was awake. Sometimes I used to think it would be nice to have a lie in, but how can you lie in bed when you have a dog eager for his morning walk?

Looking back I smile now when I think of the pure delightful simplicity of the situation that regularly confronted me thanks to my dog. I’d grudgingly say “Oh alright then, I’m getting up now!” I would turn on the fire then put the kettle on before taking a shower and getting dressed. Then I’d go back into the living room where I’d discover William curled up fast asleep once more on the rug in front of the fire! Aren’t dogs wonderful!

A dog has the soul of a philosopher (plato)

William loved Christmas with the excitement of opening all his presents, and helping me to open mine. One year after we had done this, we were sitting on the floor surrounded by a sea of wrapping paper when I discovered another tiny package that I had missed earlier. I picked it up, and assuming it was for him I said “Look William! Here’s another one for you!” However, as I pulled off the wrapping I realised that it was in fact a keyring with a photograph of my grandson inside.

“Oh no, it’s not yours, it’s mine” I said, but William obviously deeply disappointed tried to grab it out of my hand, as if to say “Oh no it’s not – hand it over!”

I hung the keyring on a hook on the wall and for some days afterwards he would sit there looking up at it, and then at me, pleading silently for me to give it to him.

They do say elephants never forget, well William proved that neither do dogs and even months later I would frequently discover him sitting there looking up at “his” present. If I reached up for it he would do twirls of delight, no doubt thinking “great – she’s got the message!” I hardly ever used it for its intended purpose – as a keyring – because William wanted it so badly. If I carried it in my bag or my pocket, he constantly nosed around searching for it and obviously it was totally unsuitable for use as a toy, so I couldn’t let him have it. The keyring with the photograph of a little boy, who is now a young man, still hangs on my kitchen wall and will remain there as a constant reminder of William.

I’m sure that we, as human beings, are largely unaware of the true talents and intricacies of man’s best friend. I believe that dogs conceal intelligence and an indefinable essence of character that is way beyond the comprehension of us mere mortals. Dogs are magical creatures! They have far greater senses and powers than we ever give them credit for. The key to achieving a privileged glimpse of the true nature of your dog is to give them your time and your love, and accept the total love and trust that they offer to you. You will be infinitely rewarded.

It takes time to establish that very special bond between man (or woman) and dog but when it happens it’s a rich and beautiful involvement. Without you even realising it, a dog can wrap himself around your heart and envelop you in blanket of love and devotion that is totally impenetrable, and one day you realise that whatever happens, he’s yours and you are his, forever, and your dedication to each other is unshakeable.

I believe that it is possible to be telepathic with your dog. For instance, I only had to think of going out into the garden, or taking him for a walk and William knew immediately. If he was outside already, he would come indoors wagging his tail and looking at me expectantly as if to say “Come on then – I’m waiting!” If he were indoors he’d run backwards and forwards between the kitchen and the living room until I opened the door for him.

He loved going outside into the garden and having company was the icing on the cake for him! If I was going out shopping and was unable to take him with me, I didn’t need to tell him. He would lie down on the rug with grunts of dismay and look up at me reproachfully, knowing he was going to be left alone for a while.

My son and daughter-in-law visit every Saturday and William always knew instinctively when it was their day to call. I never had to remind him that it was Saturday. He knew! If the weather were fine he’d sit by the door or the garden gate awaiting their arrival. Occasionally he’d come back indoors very briefly, and look at me, no doubt telling me “They’re late today”, before returning to his position outside to carry on his vigil.

One of the greatest natural talents of a dog, and the one most frequently used, is his sense of smell. A dog’s sense of smell is truly remarkable. I recall one day in particular when we were returning from our regular walk by the river. We were about five hundred yards from our home when William suddenly lifted his head and began sniffing the air vigorously. Then he began pulling very hard on his lead and I struggled to hold him back. For a couple of minutes or so, I couldn’t understand why he was behaving like this and I found myself having to run to keep up with him, as he dragged me along behind him. As we turned a bend in the road and came within sight of our home, I spotted my son’s car parked outside, and immediately realised that this was the reason for William’s behaviour. His sense of smell had told him that my son and daughter-in-law were waiting for us at home. I set him free knowing that he would head straight for home to greet his visitors and within seconds he’d arrived, leaving me behind, out of breath, yet once more totally in awe of my lovely dog, who never ceased to amaze me.

You think dogs will not be in Heaven? - I tell you, they will be there long before any of us.
Robert Louis Stevenson.

A dog's lifespan of course, is much shorter than ours, and the richest and most rewarding years with your dog are the last few years of his life when your relationship with him is deep and meaningful and more beautiful than you could ever have hoped for. The earlier hassles of dealing with a boisterous exuberant puppy and then a rebellious, disobedient immature dog are forgotten and you realise that you now have a soul mate who is surely heaven-sent. He understands your every word and can read your mind in the blink of an eye. His love and devotion towards you is unconditional.

Every dog owner knows that there is heartache ahead for them sometime in the future, but it’s a fact of life that they prefer to keep on a back burner and try not to dwell on too often, until one day they are forced to face reality. I realised that William’s days were numbered when he was suddenly taken ill.

He began by refusing to eat little more than a mouthful of his meals, which was certainly not like him as he had always enjoyed his food so much. His desire for walks diminished too and some days he refused to go at all. I discovered he had cancer and that he would probably only have a few more months to live. I tried not to think of losing him because it was just too much to bear.

A short time later, he seemed to regain a little of his zest for living and we continued for a while to go out for short walks which he still enjoyed most days, although his appetite was still poor and he still wasn’t eating much. If I fed him by hand he seemed to enjoy his food more, so this became a regular task for me at mealtimes for a few weeks. One day I cooked a chicken and he almost bit my fingers off as I fed him pieces of meat. That was the last meal he enjoyed.

The following day, Friday 10th December, he was really ill and refused to eat at all. I stayed up most of the night with him, and I sensed that the end of his life was near.

The following morning however, he seemed once more to have recovered a little and looked up expectantly when I went to the door. “Shall we go for a walk?” I asked, and he jumped excitedly to his feet.

We took a short walk to the shop for a morning paper followed by a leisurely stroll back home, and he seemed more like his normal old self once again. Knowing it was Saturday; he claimed his usual spot by the living room door awaiting the arrival of his visitors.

Feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders by his apparent recovery, I went into the bedroom. A few minutes later, my elation turned to despair when I returned to him, and I realised that I would have to make that dreaded phone call to the vet.

I had no intention of putting him through the ordeal of another frightening visit to the surgery so I asked the vet to come and put him to sleep at home.

I don’t think I will ever forget seeing William suddenly rouse himself when he heard the knock on the door and race to joyfully greet the vet. He presumed it was my son and when he realised his mistake he obviously thought “Well it’s not whom I expected but what the heck – I’ve still got visitors – great!”

For a few minutes he made such a fuss of the vet and his assistant, delighting in all the attention he got. Then he quickly realised that something was very wrong and began struggling to escape when I took hold of his collar for the last time…

Only a dog lover can realise the awful situation of having your beloved companion put to sleep. You are told that it’s the kindest thing for him, yet you feel like his executioner.

William died in my arms on the 11th December 2004, two weeks before his 14th birthday, and on that day a light went out in my life. I remember thinking “He’s not had his breakfast yet”, and weeping because I hadn’t fed him.

He was a loveable individual who may not have been much to look at compared with some dogs but to me he was just beautiful. He wrapped himself around my heart and I adored him.

He had no pedigree but he was so very special to me that I couldn’t simply let him die and be forgotten, which is why I felt I had to write a little about the years I was blessed with the company of this beautiful dog. How could I let fourteen years of joy and happiness slip away into oblivion?

I still look at the rug in front of the sofa where he used to lie, half expecting to see him there fast asleep. I still find myself stepping to one side to avoid his food dishes on the kitchen floor, even though they are no longer there. I still wake up each morning expecting to see his lovely old face peeping around the bedroom door to see if I’m awake, and oh how I wish I was still having to mop up dirty paw marks off the kitchen floor!

This short account of his life tells only a fraction of the hundreds of little anecdotes and stories that I remember about him. He filled my life with such joy and left me with such a rich legacy of love and happy memories.

I grieve for “my Bill” every day and if I allowed it, the pain and the heartache, still so raw even now, would encompass me and take over my life. However bleak it may be, I have to focus on a future without him, and accept the fact that he was simply lent to me for a short while, but in that short while, he taught me that love can come into your life in many different ways.  In my case it came in the form of an ebullient crossbred puppy who grew up to be – in my eyes – the most precious gift I could ever have wished for. My perfect dog and my perfect soul mate.

I was truly blessed on the day I found him. He took over my life and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He was one in a million and I’ll never forget him.

God bless you, my darling Bill.

©2006 Jean Norfolk