A mother's pride

I am composing this post with a tear in my eye, reader. No, my mother has not confirmed a six month booking at the Daughter Hotel (5*, dinner, bed and breakfast, pants washed for a small consideration). No, mine are not tears of mortification but of joy, of pride, of joyful pride, of joyful mother’s pride in fact. My baby boy is a star!! I’m so happy….

You’ll recall that I was off to Baldock Services to join the Greyhound Rescue West of England fundraisers in their quest to relieve Bank Holiday motorists of their change. Now I had elected Miffy to be my representative, as she met the essential ‘bombproof’ criterion, but this morning I changed my mind. I was concerned that she might be a little timid or even diffident in the circs – lots of people, hustle and bustle, children poking her in the ear, that sort of thing – and thought that a more confident, demonstrative sort might be a better ‘advert’ for the breed. So I looked around the subs’ bench and decided to give Ranger his first team debut. He’s not ‘gone solo’ before and not done a lot of dog socialization either, if I’m honest, but thought he was worth taking a punt on. He’s incredibly patient with his pack mates, despite amazing provocation, especially from Arthur who incessantly seeks ‘licky winkle’ favours from him, so I thought he’d bear up pretty well. But I couldn’t be sure so I was a little nervous as I approached my fellow volunteers and their dogs….here was the first test…would Ranger be the perfect gent and go ‘round the back’ to make his introductions in the proper way? Well, blow me, he did! I was half expecting a couple of air snaps or even a growl (I’m not pessimistic by nature, I think it’s just the destabilizing effect of motorway service stations) but he sniffed up the collective rears with delicacy and respect – and there’s a delicate balance between a gently nudged hello and rampant rectal ‘WOTCHA COCK’.

And he just went from strength to strength. There was a human tide ebbing and flowing through the quite constricted foyer (constricted because Ranger thought standing in the middle of the doorway was strategically sound – clever boy) and he just soaked up the fuss, the pats, the strokes, the baby kisses and the prepubescent pokes (Is it legal to poke the prepubescents back?) Now he may have been loving all this attention….but I suspect he was actually focused on something else...like the 24 piece KFC bargain buckets….or the Pepperoni Pizza Hut pizza, large, with cheese crust…or the quarter pounder deluxe meal with bacon….of course, if he had a bit more class, he would have been eyeing up the beef stifado from M&S, but you can’t have everything….at least he had manners, and didn’t whiz up the ‘Greyhounds Make Great Pets’ poster. We raised nearly £400 on the day and just as importantly raised a lot of very positive awareness about the breed amongst the Great British public. And they lived up to their name today, thank you everyone. Some might question your fashion sense, others your choice of nutrition, but there’s no faulting your generosity.

And what did the boy get for his fundraising achievements? Well, virtue should be its own reward but this is Ranger we’re talking about so I’ve negotiated a contract with his agent - one Polish kabanos per appearance, rising to a Cumberland sausage if the takings top £500. Not surprisingly, they’ve accepted – well, they know and I know that Arthur is just waiting to step up to the (dinner) plate and take over: he’s a complete tart and will do anything for a chipolata.