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Bang! I go down hard on the icy road. It's 6:35am in mid December and it's dark. With a dog lead in each hand, it's easy to slip when the road is like glass, and almost impossible to stop myself falling, if the unseen forces have deemed it my fate to sit on my backside in the middle of the street. Nala and Leo have zero sympathy and, it appears, zero tolerance for my holding up their early morning walk by messing about doing whatever it is I'm doing on the floor. As I swap both dog leads into one hand and try to push myself up with the other, they are already pulling, keen to get to where the best smells are. Unfortunately, they are neither pulling in unison, nor in a direction which would assist me in getting to my feet. My legs go from under me and I'm on my back, grateful for the darkness as I flail around like a beetle. My first thought, somewhat surreally, "I've just washed this jacket !" This makes me laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it and I quiet the dogs and struggle to my feet. Leo is ready for the off but Nala just stands and looks at me. She's almost human, this dog, and I can almost see her rolling her eyes and thinking, "Have you finished messing about now ? Can we carry on ?"
We make our way up the road and into the field. I'm very aware of how cold it is and that the clock is ticking. Leo can't be out for more than 15 minutes without having one of his strange cramping attacks, and both dogs still need to do their morning business. Nala wastes no time and her business is quickly over and done with. I turn back to the road, knowing that Leo will pull me down onto the verge so he can do his. He's predictable. As he squats down, I reach into my pocket for a bag. I'm still holding Nala's lead in my other hand and she's not keen on my hanging about, it's cold. I waste no time. I put my hand inside the bag and reach down to pick up Leo's, rather loose, deposit. My brain registers something warm and cold at the same time as I realise too late that this is one of the bags which Leo chewed and there's a hole in the bottom. I have just picked up my delightful pup's equally delightful poo, with my bare hand. The details of what happens next as I try to shake my hand clean and get both dogs home, I will leave to your (hopefully not too fertile) imagination. Suffice it to say, it's not an experience I'm eager to repeat in a hurry. I storm into the house almost sending a very surprised looking Rico, flying. Five minutes later, I'm clean and ready to go again, this time with Rico. In contrast, this boy is wonderfully calm and I have no fear of repeating my beetle like behaviour. Just as well, it's getting light now and the neighbours already think I'm slightly wanting in the top storey. We amble up the road, each of us doing our own thing but we're very much together. He's my shadow, this dog. He's my Mr. Rico. We stroll up to the field, him sniffing and weeing every few metres, me musing on the day ahead. Fifteen minutes later, business having been despatched, we're back home in the warm. I glance at the clock, it's 7:15am.
I sit and eat my breakfast in what could never be be described as peace and quiet. Leo is wide awake and raring to go. It's playtime. It's pandemonium as the three of them race from room to room, round and round. I half watch them and half tune it out. It's loud but I love to see how they interact. Leo is always in the middle of everything. He is the instigator of this ruckus but also the reason that Rico has learned to play and that Nala has rediscovered both her maternal side and her crazy side. He is, this seven month old pup from the perrera, their teacher. And mine too.
A year ago, I had never even heard the word podenco. A year ago Nala and I had a peaceful, quiet life. A year ago, I could do exactly as I pleased, go exactly where I wanted. I often took Nala with me but also had the option of leaving her at home. If I wanted to go away for a few days, it was never a problem to find someone to take care of Nala. My princess loves everybody and everybody loves my princess. She fits in anywhere. Life before I heard the word podenco, was easy. Life before I heard the word podenco, was good.
I can almost hear you gasp, as you read that last sentence. It bears repeating. Life before I heard the word podenco, was good.
I always slept in a dog free, dog hair free, bed.
I often slept until 8am.
I never flailed like a beetle on the ice in the dark.
I never put my hand through a chewed dog poo bag.
I took Nala for her walk when I wanted, where I wanted and for as long as I wanted.
I had more spare cash than I have now.
I could lay on the sofa and read or write, undisturbed, Nala's head on my lap.
There was enough room for me on my sofa.
Nala and I went to nice restaurants and shops.
I could write all afternoon in a cafe, with Nala curled up fast asleep by my side.
I could go on, but I won't. I think you get the point. Life before I heard the word podenco, was good.
And then came that moment, the shovel in the face moment I describe in my first blog post. My first, albeit, virtual encounter with a podenco was a powerful experience that I will never forget and it changed everything.
The addition of Rico to our family of two, disrupted our well rehearsed, easy life somewhat. It becomes more difficult when you have two dogs, you have to think a bit, and plan. Tripping off for the weekend becomes more complicated. As wonderful as Rico is, he's not easy easily absorbed into another family, with other dogs, as Nala is. There were no 'for fun' summer weekend trips to Prague or Merano this year. I went to the UK on 'family business' and spent the day in Bolzano on my birthday, but in both of these cases I was lucky enough that my good friends were both understanding and willing to help.
But, I took it all in my stride. Rico, is an easy dog, with me. I could take him all the places I took Nala, he was calm on the lead, he had good recall, he was a perfect gentleman when we went into a cafe or restaurant, he never put a foot wrong. He was loving and generous of spirit. Pretty soon life began to look like it had before his arrival, he was the perfect dog for Nala and me. Two had simply become three.
Back in August, I was writing my book, completely absorbed and grateful that Rico fitted in so well. And then it came again, that damn shovel in my face. From nowhere, Leo appeared. This time huge changes. A pup is always a challenge. A pup from the perrera who has missed that vital socialisation stage, more challenging still. A pup with a strange cramping problem triggered by cold coming to Austria at the beginning of a long winter, is something else again. My life is governed by this boy's needs. I plan my day around him. I have to. He has changed everything, yet again.
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So, dear reader, please explain to me the reason why I'm sitting here at my computer looking at my two sleeping podencos with the biggest smile on my face and a feeling of such utter contentment that comes from deep within me. Please explain to me why I don't give a damn that I have no money, too little sleep, no chance of taking off to a christmas market, increasing vet bills, a need to replace items Leo has used as dental floss and even going for a walk or beer requires planning that would make a military general look disorganised.
These dogs, are podencos. I have suspected for some time that there is an unwritten natural law about podencos. It's akin to Newton's theory of gravitation or Einstein's theory of relativity. And, to me, equally as important. Every podenco 'owner' knows of it but maybe no-one has named it. I'm calling it 'Podencivity' and my theory is simply this; whatever a podenco takes from you, from your life, from your time and your riches, he will give back to you a thousand fold or more. You can neither explain this, nor quantify it. Don't even try. Podencos, just are.
My shovel in the face moment brought me into contact with podencos and changed my life. The more I learn of them, the more I love them. The more I learn of their plight, the more determined I am to do whatever I can to help them.
Life before I heard the word podenco, was good.
Life now, is even better.
