As a child we always had a dog at home. They came in all shapes and sizes and some lasted longer than others – sometimes we resembled a half way house for disadvantaged dogs who then went on to pastures new.
When I left home there never seemed a good time to have one in my own home. Either ‘home’ was too small, or I couldn’t afford it, or someone had an allergy and so it went on. Two years ago I thought it’s now or never and a chance meeting in a car park with the cutest dog I’d ever seen sealed it for me. I wanted a goldendoodle! They looked cute as a Disney dog, didn’t moult (I’m not overly fond of hoovering) and would get me out and about rampaging along beaches and countryside as my furry companion.
The reality is Harvey is now the size of a polar bear, takes hours of grooming and in a car is sick as the proverbial dog! He ate the kitchen – and most of the garden, and the cat despises him. The delightful lady at puppy training reassured me he will improve with age only I’m not sure the house (or the cat) will survive until this miracle happens!!
I love him dearly, he is full of fun and energy and makes me smile every time I look at him. On a walk everyone stops us for a chat and a fuss… and he doubles up as a blanket when he climbs on to my knee for a cuddle!