10 Days of Dog Gone

Final Days

Charlie’s Eulogy

A loved life, regardless of physical size, leaves a big hole; this is how it was dug.

Scout Lovat was born on September 22^nd 2009, in a litter of five to a breeder of MiniFoxies who kept all of his dogs inside with him. He was one of three with the naturally stumped tail and the little hook of hair on the end. The breeder told me that we could have him cheap because he had too many freckles in his coat for him to be any good for showing. There was a much prettier pup in the pack but we were told that Scout was the one who always came and sat beside him, that convinced us. The Lovat part of his pedigree name was in honour of the 15^th Lord Lovat whose estate was Beaufort Castle on the Beauly river in Inverness-shire. The breeder had served in the Lovat Scouts (Special Service Brigade) and landed on Sword beach in Normandy under Lord Lovat’s command. He told us that he owed his life to the commander’s courage as they landed. On our travels to Portsmouth we saw the Overlord tapestry in the D’Day museum that had a portrait of this much admired gentleman but Charlie was not allowed in to pay his respects. He was scurried back to safe harbour, the Watford Rectory when we took the night crossing to Normandy, avoiding the distress of being locked in a cage on the car deck with a muzzle on, so he didn’t see the memorial to his name sake at Sword beach either. This was an overwhelming legacy for such a timid little pup although he grew into courage.

General - Commando commander Lovat - Sword Beach Normandy

The breeder and I agreed to the sum of $600. The breeder wanted cash so the family went for lunch and a discussion began about his name. As Petal’s dog, she had final say and I could not sway her to Frodo. M suggested we keep Scout as his name and Willow’s suggestions were all 3 or more syllables. Eventually everyone agreed on Charlie – because he was brown. Over the years he ended up being called Chaz, Best Boy, Chazzle the wazzel, CharlesBbrown, Mr Chau, Weeman, Stinkrat,  Binboy, Ratboy(after some uncouth youths asked the girls if they were walking their pet rat) and he answered to them all. The tone is more important than the word.    

On arrival after purchase - what a fun day.

That day was a big day for Charlie, he left the house he was born in for the first time, went outside for the first time and he left his mother and siblings for the first time. His stress response to all of this was to dribble down our arms in the car, at a visit to the cousies and until we had been settled at home for an hour or two. He would always hate the car – he got carsick. If he thought we were taking him somewhere he would start doing big circles just out of reach. He couldn’t bear to be away but made it quite clear that he did not agree with our plans. Every time we went to NZ for a few weeks, I would drive him out to the Berryman Kennels where the small dogs got to play together in a huge outside area everyday, and Holly’s mum knew to put his blanket over him at night. Every time he would vomit in my car and would feel very sorry for himself. He never did coming home because Petal would come out and sit beside him.

Visiting Petal in lockdown,  Nana's knee to Windemere, Getting Chaz's passport checked in Dover.

That is how he traveled around Europe, in a car nest between the girls or on the knee of the front seat passenger. He particularly like Nana’s knees when we drove out to the Lake District. He liked the vans we hired sometimes, better because the seats were deeper and flatter. His pet passport was stamped a few times over the years. Thanks to Jet Pets, he came across to Cambridge once we were settled, double the price upon return but that is another story.  This was a condition of Petal’s cooperation for our shift there.

Netherlands - ducks v tulips, Brighton - too stoney, Cambridge - love to grab a swan neck!
Honfleur - let me jump out the window, Canterbury Cathedral - with Chester , Stratford upon Avon - can't see why there is so much fuss about this Shakespeare.

But before those adventures he had Sydney life with his cousie dogs, Buster and Oscar, Nana’s dog’s Tess and Lucy and his best buddy Boobaa from the Holman Household. Mini foxies are a cross between a fox terrier and a whippet, the breed is an Aussie one and had a range of variations in shape and size at this stage. Charlie had the narrow snout and legs of the whippet and his back legs shook for many reasons just like the whippet. He was also fast and could out run everything in the small dog park. He shone with glee, flying across the grass with a pack of dogs behind him – his nose straight as an arrow as the rest of his body curled up and stretched out straight in huge leaps forward. The girls were horrified one day as he came back to us, leaping over a freshly coiffured white pomeranian to get onto the wooden platform they were sitting on. Using the back of the white dog for a last thrust as he jumped, it was rolled into a large mud puddle. Hmm, Charlie was pleased with his speediness and leapt down, pushing the dog over again to go for another few rounds. The girls were left spluttering apologies as the owner of the mud ball tried to catch it, but it raced away after Chaz. It would need another bath.

Come on throw the ball - Yep I'm on it - Got it - Park in Watford.

Baths were one of Charlie’s other dreads. This may have been because in his 2^nd month with us, a wet January, he went out for toilies, always at a gallop and skidded to a splash. Thinking that he was taking his time on a rainy day for his business I looked out the kitchen window and saw a ring of ripples in the pool. I rushed out to find the little fellow with one paw up on the side of the pool (luckily it was very full) and the other little sticks running ineffectively in the water to keep his nostrils just poking up above the water. I dragged him out and he started licking under my chin. Just as well the pool was at summer temps not winter ones. After that, water was his foe. He would leap and snap at water coming out of the hose and got very distressed whenever the girls got in for a swim. As soon as the water in the laundry tub started running he would curl up tight in one of his nests. The collar would come off and he would shrink back as if naked in a public space. He had the same oatmeal shampoo and conditioner for his whole life.  The cue for bathtime was when the girls said he smelt like a corn chip. Although even after his arthritis got bad in his back, he loved the massage he got once all soaped up. Once he was rinsed off and his ears, paws and soft bits were dried off he would run to get a toy and squeak it until he thought it was dead then would tear around the house and outside as if he could outpace the moisture clinging to him.

But I don't like it!    Bathing my toys is just as bad but hanging them to dry is worse!

Once he was running for his life! Although with us he was the gentlest of souls he had a large rage inside him. This was directed at the postman, lizards, squirrels and the Labrador two houses down in Cambridge. But none of these prompted a speedy escape. From his guard position at the front windows in every house he ever spent time in he would bark  to sound the alarm of approaching enemy. Our poor postmen very bravely approached the front door. He would stand for hours in baking sun staring at the place he saw a lizard disappear and whine until the bin was shifted – circling it so we couldn’t catch him to let the reptile run to a safer place. It took two of us to save each one. I never believed that dogs communicated beyond smells and sniffs until an American serviceman renting a few houses down tried to introduce his Labrador to Chaz. Charlie walked up quite happily, the lab shook his head in a weird way and suddenly the hairs down Charlies back were up at attention and he let out a deep growl. The Lab looked over to him with all I can call a roll of the eyes and growled back. From then on every time Charlie saw him he would try to leap off his lead or nearly smash the glass in the windows barking hysterically. The American said once to me that he just had small dog syndrome, I replied that so far Charlie’s instincts of character had been excellent. We didn’t talk a lot after that. Squirrel chasing was his favourite sport in the UK. Once he ran out on a willow limb hanging way over the Cam. The squirrel leapt from the ends of the willow branches across to another tree and down, I had sudden visions of him following and me having to jump into the Cam to rescue this non-swimming dog, thankfully he realised his limitations and trotted back down the branches as if he was at home negotiating the stairs instead of in an enormous Willow tree.

I can see free range chickens over there!      Lizard - I see you!      Where is the mouse Sharnie?

His speedy escape was bought on by play. Stourbridge common was a favourite off leash place we took Charles for walks. It is said to be the oldest market fair site in England and small herds of cows often had free range. Charlie did not care for the cows, walking behind us whenever one got a bit close. But the long grass was a perfect home for all sorts of rodents and Chaz loved to hunt. Often in summer time, as the heavily seeded grass heads attracted the local house mouse, Charlie would spend 30 – 40 mins on his back legs hopping around and pouncing when a whiskery nose would show itself. He met all sorts of friendly dogs to play with in this space then one autumn a puppy Irish wolf hound leapt at him with both paws showing that it wanted to play. Unfortunately this 6mth baby was a giant to our tiny 6yr old and the crash onto Charlie’s back hurt. He was off leash and took off running. Laeticia took off in pursuit with calls of apologies following her. She was no match for Charlie’s speed and soon she had lost visual contact. At the river bank she asked the people in moored longboats but no one had seen a small dog running past. Laeticia rang Dad at home. He pulled on his coat and opened the door only to see Charlie running up the driveway to our house. Clever boy remembering the route of three blocks and a huge common to get home. Luckily the Labrador wasn’t out and about. That evening he lay down with a grunt and seemed to be in pain. The vet x-rayed him and said that there was a break in his spine. My heart dropped, seeing massive dollar signs but the whole operation, drugs, recovery and follow-up appointments were cheaper than any vet bill I had paid in Aussie ever! It is a small wonder that he didn’t paralyze himself running home. The arthritis that soon made this weakness a home stopped his carefree sprints and froze up his back hips over his last couple of years.

Catching a spot of sun in Cambridge.                     Nesting for warmth in a Sydney winter.

What about all you guys? Am I going by myself?   You smell right, thank goodness that is over.

Getting to England and back were probably the worst days of his life. He had a lovely holiday with Nana, Tess and Lucy then was packed into a plastic box with a bit of his blanket and a jacket on. He was loaded up into a Qantas flight where there are special areas of cabin pressure space for live animal transportation. He was unloaded at Bangkok, feed, watered and given a walk – the crate hosed out then loaded back in for the long haul to Heathrow. We got the exciting call that Charlie was about to land so headed out to Animal Arrivals to wait with other expectant families. Their dogs all came out and still we were waiting. Finally we were told by an embarrassed official that Qantas had lost … (all our heads started buzzing) … Charlie’s veterinary check papers so he couldn’t be admitted to the UK. Luckily they had no intention of sending him back, we just had to wait until a vet could come and check him and run some tests. 3 hours later Charlie came through the doors straining on his leash happy to lick any face that was presented but he had his eyes firmly on the grass outside. The girls took him out and he let go of all he had been holding in. He seemed to actually recognise us after that. As an apology, Qantas gave us his Pet passport that would have cost us £200 and was required for taking him in and out of the UK. The return trip was also problematic. He had to have a blood test to prove that he didn’t have rabies before being allowed back into Australia. Unfortunately the vet told us that small dogs respond to the test badly. He failed three times. We had to leave him in the care of Lulu and Chester, R and the Rev and wait for the next test and results before we could OK Jet Pets to book a flight and pick him up. Thankfully he eventually passed and arrived in Sydney at last. After two weeks quarantine, a vet check and a bill we were allowed to go out to Eastern Creek and collect him. This time he knew us straight away. We were told though that his favourite monkey, which had travelled with him, had to be cleaned for the sum of $300 or burnt. He came bounding into his old house as if he had never been away, gave Sharna, who had spent the UK years with Nana and had a few weeks to accustom herself back to the house, a sniff and went on an inspection tour. We hadn’t enjoyed the weeks of unpacking stored furniture, arguing with the real estate co that had failed to secure the bond of tenants that put holes in ceilings and walls and hair dye stains on vanities and waiting to see if and when he would be back.

Corf Castle,       Another church with Lulu, Chester and the Rev,     Not Stone Henge - promise.

His home away from home in the UK was with R and the Rev. We had two Christmases there, Chaz loved Lulu and Chester but was a bit of an only child when it came to sharing his toys. He taught Lulu how to play tug with her toys but wan't happy for any of them to have a turn with his. When they came to stay at our house he guarded his nests in each room but was happy to have company on his walks and shared his dinner no problems. When the Rev's mum was visiting Watford Charlie liked her so much that he weed in her handbag. Now that he has passed I guess this story has reached legend status.

I prefer boats - or hovercrafts!

The only time Charlie ever dug holes was in the last month of his life. First to bury food that he couldn’t eat and to get rid of a fish toy that started flipping whenever it was moved. For some reason Chaz took a hatred to it and buried it a few times in different places. His little paws and long nails were put to good use unwrapping parcels, this was one of his favourite activities. We know he couldn’t read but somehow he never dug into any presents around the Christmas tree unless they were addressed to him. This made us wonder if dog toy manufacturers put a dog pheromone into their toys so Charlie could smell them through the wrapping. Another seasonal game he loved to play before his back accident, was party balloon bounce. He could keep a balloon in the air for over 5 minutes and would bark(a rarity) in a squeak of delight if you rallied with him.

Get rid of that burny thing so I can have cheese (2yrs), Still interested in parcels at 14yrs - last b-day.

Chaz’s favourite food was cheese for a long while. He would sit in the kitchen when I made tea then do a little gallop on the spot if I pulled out the cheese bag. After having people around for lunch one day we had to leave in a hurry for another special occasion we left the remnants of a cheeseboard on the table, everything was eaten but we found ¼ of a camembert wheel on the back doorstep – he had sated his desire and after that was never quite as enthusiastic for cheese again. Luckily there were no digestion issues! When he was still a pup he woke up crying in the night. I went down to the laundry and couldn’t settle him. He seemed to be in pain. I let him settle down with me in the spare bed but he kept squirming and whimpering. Eventually I took him to the night vet, nervously waiting for some terrible diagnosis. The vet came out laughing and said it was just gas, he’d injected a pain killer and nature would take its course. After his back surgery intestinal gas also caused regular pain so he had to go on a diet with reduced fat – good bye cheesy treats! At least he was still allowed the occasional cat biscuit which he thought were lollies. Any kind of roasted meat was by far his favourite, after being told he only had one or two weeks to live he got roasted beef and chicken every day – so he lived for another 3 months and broke my grocery budget.

There were certain things that he really enjoyed, cuddling up for an afternoon nap while I read was my favourite. Cat biscuits seemed to be like lollies to him. His favourite game was tug, we always got sick of it first. If you let go of the toy between you he would calmly walk towards you and plop it back into your hand again and wait breathing through his nose until your spirit breaks. Right from little he also loved chasing the lazer pointer. He never had to have rainy walks. Someone would just stand in the middle of the house and move the spot up and down the stairs, in and out of rooms, even just from the front door to the back. We had to stop to give him a rest, he would never give up. He knew the drawer that it was kept in and when we were working in the study he would stand pointing to it until someone got the hint.

This is his Sydney waiting podium, in Cambridge it was our bedroom or study double windows. He could hear Nana's car from the bottom of the hill. He could hear but not see his people on zoom.

Charlie was a small dog of small brain and fierce devotion. Every return to the house was greeted with toys and smellings of great joy. If you were settled in one place doing something he had to have a place to watch you do it or sleep beside you. He loved lockdown and developed a routine that spent time with all his favourite people. Petal was the person he followed around the most and loved going up to her room early in the morning to snuggle until she got up. M was the boss of the pack and he would trot proudly beside him when he was working outside as if his efforts were very important. When the girls walked with him he was very protective and would snarl at strangers and other dogs, when M or I were there he was friendly to other dogs and went his merry way undisturbed. He had excellent intuition and knew who would treat him well. When Brad entered his life he couldn’t believe that he had another boy human to idolise, he kept his ball away from everyone else and would only let Brad play with it, if someone else picked it up to throw it for him he would pick it up and go to Brad with it, if Brad stopped wanting to play he would bury the ball under the pile in the toy basket and sit adoringly at his feet.

I'm only doing this to make you happy right - OK time's up!

Being told that he had Lymphona after a lump was discovered when in for his annual teeth clean was rotten. We were told that with chemo he could last 3-6months, without it 1-2 weeks. It is hard to put your own needs aside and think about what is best for the animal. He would hate going into the vet every week for treatment and the nausea that it would have brought so we decided against the Chemo. Our wonderful vet, Sonya Bains at Hills Animal Hospital, kept him going on morning steroids, kids panadol and an analgesic in the evenings for pain and sleep. He was a tough wee fellow, it was three months before the burning temps in his belly needing ice wrapped in a towel and vanished muscle around his hips and shoulders were making it tiring for him to stand told us it was time to call Dr Rainbow. In the end a company called Rest your Paws came and helped him to forever sleep in his own nest and took him to be cremated (QR coded to ensure the ashes weren't mixed up). A very difficult thing to do. We were warned that the happy drug, to relax him and take away any pain of the catheter  might be enough to stop his little heart, because of the murmur he had developed but it just wouldn't give up. Eventually it stilled and the life we loved so much was gone.

He gave us so much love and only really wanted his dinner, the odd chicken neck and our company in return.

Got to be doing the work,  Yes I'll just put this Cadbury bear into the boot for you, Me sniffing???

Thank you Best Boy for so much fun and happy memories. I hope my Gran is right and the energy of love invested in pets will be resurrected – bloody hope God doesn’t give you wings or you’ll stink like a corn chip for eternity – mind up I guess you’ll be vegetarian!

P.S. There are so many stories missed from this remembering. Please feel free to add your happy Chaz story in the comments section. 😊