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I never saw myself as a dog person. I mean - they were grand; I’d pat the head of a friend’s dog call them a good boy or girl - but that would be it.
Then we got a collie named Sam. His full name was Sam Maguire (at the time he was seen as the best hope Mayo had of having Sam Maguire in the county). Sam was a great farm dog who’d round up the sheep like one of those dogs featured on TV programmes and move them into the pens.
As he started to show signs of ageing, we got Socks, who came to us as a pup and - despite our best efforts - never quite got the hang of sheep herding. In fairness, he could round them up and have them all gathered in the corner, but that’s where it all went wrong. Poor Socks had absolutely no sense of direction. He’d get them within feet of the gate and then decide to send them back into the field again.
Colourful language
This gave rise to Saturday mornings filled with delays, stress, colourful language and Sam looking smug with his acknowledged talents as a sheep dog evident (despite his age).
Although a good farm dog is a great asset, Sam and Socks were also gentle, protective of the children and great fun. There were various attempts to have them learn tricks with mixed results. Neither would ever make it on to a TV talent show, but they gave the children hours of enjoyment jumping over makeshift jumps and doing stunts.
I got very used to their friendly greeting, which was always enthusiastic whether you were coming back from an hour-long shopping trip or returning from a two-week holiday. I think this is really when my love of dogs started. They welcomed me home with enthusiasm and - even when I was stressed or rushing because I was late - they greeted me like a long-lost friend every time.
A dog in the house
Neither dogs were house dogs; they slept in a shed fit for a king every night. But when Sam died, it was as if Socks knew we needed a dog in the house. He came in that first evening and never slept outside again. A few years later, we welcomed Amber - a pomeranian who was never going to round up sheep - but she became the cuddler the girls needed. Amber had a bad habit of eating other dogs’ food, and a dog attacked her for it, which resulted in her having a front leg amputated. She quickly adapted to life with three legs and - let me tell you - walking a three legged dog is a great conversation starter.
Unfortunately, she tried to eat another dog’s food one too many times and the resulting injuries were too much and we had to say goodbye. Within a few months, Socks showed worrying signs and was eventually diagnosed with cancer. Once again we had to make the decision, after 15 years of him being a faithful companion, to say goodbye.
Wonderful Willow
Several months later, having decided I didn’t want another dog, I went to volunteer at Madra, our local shelter. After walking several dogs I was ready to leave when I spied this slightly odd looking one on her own in a pen.
A mix of collie, terrier and numerous other breeds, they had named her Dearbhla after finding her abandoned. She came out of the pen, licked my legs, looked up at me and we both knew she was going home with me. Five years on, Willow (I was never going to call her Dearbhla!) greets me when I get home, sits quietly when we both need it, loves long walks on the beach, sea swims, chasing cats and cuddles with the girls when they are home.
She’ll roll in s***, chew flower pots and shed enough hair to fill the vacuum cleaner, but I wouldn’t be without her. When you have a dog you’re never alone.
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