Some of the staples of my life growing up were a plethora of pets. We had a six foot tall Great Dane called ‘Tiny’ of all things. She was a kind and gentle soul, she was a quiet and calm animal but remarkably tactile at the same time. My mum would tell us that Tiny picked us as a family. We had visited the breeder a few weeks before the litter would be ready to leave their mother.
My mum turned at the bottom of the garden and found a petite blue coloured (blonde pups can appear blue in colour at first) puppy had followed her to the gate and that was that, Tiny had decided that we would be sufficient family. Although Great Dane’s aren’t renowned for being the most articulate breed, tiny was incredibly easy to train and was instantly very eager to please.
I understand the reservations some parents have in regards to committing to a pet for the benefit of an apparently enthusiastic pet. In most cases, once the puppy or small animal passes the cute and fluffy stage, as does the interest of the child. The allure of poop, walking or general care duties simply does not have the same allure as puppy cuddles. However I have always had a natural and undescrible affinity with animals, which has only developed in time.
Gaining their trust, beginning to understand their character/ personalities has always fascinated me. I could never of imagined growing up without our pets as children. Tiny would greet us when we came home from school, watching her practically gallop and accidentally knock you over, not recognising her size when she was excited to see you.
Tiny was incredibly protective over us all, but when we brought our youngest sibling home, she was fascinated with him. She would guard him, lay beside him when he was laid down on the changing mat, followed him when he finding his feet as a toddler and even as he grew older, you could tell she had a genuine love for him. When I was about nine years old I noticed that my neighbour has bought a Jack Russell puppy called Ben, I would sneak him biscuits from home or pet him through the fence when I passed his owner’s house.
On the very rare occasion that his owner actually bothered to take him a walk I would ask to pet him. Even at that young age, I was perplexed that his owner seemed indifferent to Ben, were seeing him was the highlight of my day. One day, I noticed Ben was out of his garden, someone had obviously let him out, so I called him and he bolted towards me. About two minutes later his owner game bundling out of the garden shouting profanities obviously in search for Ben.
I shouted that he was with me and someone had left the gate unlocked. Instead of offering thanks he simply grabbed Ben by the neck calling him every name under the sun. The feeling of rage feels as real today. Some weeks later I heard screaming from the street, I looked out the window and a group of young girls were screaming and pointing at a blood stained object on the ground and I saw a large dog disappearing into an alley. I instantly knew that something wasn’t right.
I rushed out and the girls told me the blood stained object was Ben, a large dog had attacked him. I scooped Ben off the ground and ran to his owner’s door, only to be met with the response that “Ben was f****d anyway”. Instinctively I ran home with Ben, thankfully my mum was also an animal lover and rushed Ben to the vets.
Long story short, Ben survived, when we brought him back from the vet my mum sat Ben in the middle of our street, instructed me to stand at our gate and for Ben’s owner to do the same. As the supposed owner had no love for this dog and would not pay the vet’s fee, my mum offered a solution, whoever the dog comes to, is his rightful owner. Low and behold, Ben became my very own dog.
In typical fashion, he was full of cheeky character, suffered from small man syndrome but was endlessly loyal. One of my biggest pet hates is when people attach stereotypes to breeds. My dad was a very successful Staffordshire bull terrier breeder and had many award winning dogs. I must say that this is breed is terribly misunderstood. Yes they have a strong build/ jaw and in the wrong hands are a weapon but the same can be said with any breed/ animal. My dad always says that there is no such thing as a bad dog, only bad owners.
Staffordshire bull terriers were once known as ‘nanny’ dogs, given their docile nature and gentle disposition with children. I have to say that this would be the number one breed I will have around my own children. They are not jealous by nature, naturally enjoy the company of people but do not need to be the centre of attention.
Our very first Staffordshire bull terrier that we had was the lovely Molly, she was the loveliest, most soft natured animal, and she simply loved the company of people. You were a forever friend for rubbing her belly or giving her a biscuit. Her death was a terrible loss to our family.
On that note, losing a family pet is exactly that, a loss of a family member, a truly devastating event. Something that non pet lovers will never understand and these individuals are perplexed when they see grown adults upset due to the loss of a pet. But pets are naturally embedded within the memories that a family make as a collective group.
Pets can teach children discipline, can help them to develop a kind and compassionate nature as they learn that animals need love, care and affection. I believe that pets bring a family together, provide comfort during sad times, they never judge/ speak back, they only wish to be loved and be loved unconditionally.
(END OF PART 1)
Emmette Dillon