Some years ago, a friend of mine told me a story about something that had happened to his mother; a story I have never forgotten. She was an older woman, widowed, and had a small dog who was her constant companion. Being of a certain generation, she was a regular Mass-goer, and attended her local church each Sunday.
It was her habit to tie up her dog outside the church. You can probably guess what is coming next. She came out after Mass one Sunday and the dog was gone. Stolen. She never saw it again. She was devastated. She did not get another.
Sometimes I have nightmares that Boo has been stolen, or that she is lost and cannot find her way back home
The story was even worse because my friend told me that his mother’s particular breed of little dog was one that was used as bait in some kind of illegal dog fighting. Any notion of her dog being swiped by an opportunistic, but kind, child who had longed for a pet, and who loved it ever after, was a fantasy. I begged him not to tell me what the breed of dog had been, because at that point of the story, I was haunted enough. I did not want to think of this terrible story every time I saw a dog of a similar breed.
I visited the family home when my friend’s mother died a few years later. I had never met her. I went to pay my respects to her, where she was laid out in the living room. As I stood there, looking down at this lady with silver hair, all I could think about was what she felt when she came out of the church that day and realised her pet had been stolen. It kind of broke my heart to be honest with you.
I too have a dog. A black cocker spaniel; Boo. I share her half the year with friends who live in Sligo. This might sound unorthodox, but it works for us, and Boo is happy in both country and city abodes.
For as long as I have had Boo who is now, at 11, a senior dog, I have worried that she might be stolen. With her joyful wagging tail, lovely demeanour and long eyelashes, she still stops the foot traffic, although her floppy ears and soft muzzle are now silver.
Given that so many of us now have dogs, and particularly so since the pandemic, I don’t know why Irish society isn’t better set up for them
Sometimes I have nightmares that Boo has been stolen, or that she is lost and cannot find her way back home; that she is being mistreated by whoever now has her. My friend’s poor mother must have gone home that day, looked at the dog’s empty basket and food bowls, and wept, wondering where her dog now was, and what was happening to it.
Given that so many of us now have dogs, and particularly so since the pandemic, I don’t know why Irish society isn’t better set up for them. Many, many people, including me, probably combine walking their dog with running some errands at the same time. These are some of the things I do when walking Boo. Use an ATM. Post a letter. Recycle bottles. Things I can do while she is on the lead with me.
But as for grocery shopping in a supermarket, where the aisles are long, the windows obscured, and the queues to pay are
