Emotional rescue of a rolling stone

Emotional rescue of a rolling stone

Emotional rescue of a rolling stone

When I heard a friend needed a good home for his beloved dog after a marriage breakdown I did not hesitate to offer ours. Our dog Bluey (inherited when my gran passed away) had died five months earlier and we had found it a rewarding experience to provided a safe, loving environment for an elderly dog down on his luck. So, Max came to live with us.

Caring for an older dog is a different task to bringing home a puppy whose character is not yet developed and is open to learning the rules of your house. Older dogs have strange habits and can be set in their ways.

We knew a little about Max, he had been rescued seven years earlier from a builders yard where he was neglected. The next seven years he lived with my friend's family and was used to children and cats. He got on well with our two cats after initially chasing them now they are firm friends. We were warned that Max was a free spirit, he liked to roam free when ever he could.

One day, leaving the front door on the latch and closing the porch door, to chat with a neighbour I left Max inside. We could hear him barking and whining (he likes to greet everyone) and in under thirty seconds he had pulled open the front door and was just through the porch door when I managed to haul him back inside. We have never figured out how but, he can open them even when locked if the key is in the door! There is not a door in the house Max cannot open. This was not a problem in itself but we soon panicked when he opened them at will and disappeared for up to five-six hours at a time.

The first time Max ran off it was 8pm and I walked the streets for two hours (he was unfamiliar with the area) calling him. I returned home and sat up frantic, going outside every ten minutes calling him. Around 1am I heard a knock, I went to the front door but could not see anyone so, deflated I sat back down. KNOCK! KNOCK! Much louder this time. I went back to the front door but in the darkness I still saw nothing. Then I heard a bark! Max was sitting on the door step wagging his tail! I was so relieved, I did not know whether to kiss him or kill him... Until I opened the door, he stank.

Max ran off once a week for the first three years and often turned up at a neighbours at 1-2am, luckily they saw the funny side. He would jump six foot fences like a goat on a pogo stick, wriggle out of his collar and harness in under thirty seconds. He has calmed down now, he is thirteen years old and we would not have changed him for the world.

Lisa Creamer friend of www.petwonders.co.uk

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