A few months on, we know more and more about our Jake. He’s generally contented to be asleep at our feet, but has no problem being in the house on his own for a while. He makes his opinions felt, but now rarely digs his heels in and refuses to participate. He loves his food; except when he doesn’t.
He has even begun to play. Now, not much, and not every day, but he has picked up a soft rattley item and worried at it when he’s being stroked. “Keep rubbing his tummy, no, don’t stop yet, watch!” Oh, the excitement! That our wee old man could be beginning to relax enough with us to play, just a little. We’d thought he didn’t know how.
He doesn’t want to be bothered with other dogs. Mostly he’s ok if they come to sniff around him, but he has been known to rear up in protest, putting the fear of god into Spurs Fan. Jake’s always on a lead- just in case a bouncy dog wants to play with him.
Until last weekend. We were the only people on the beach. We did an extra check for the big labrador that seems to live there. Nope, all empty. It was time.
We let Jake off the lead.
His inner greyhound appeared. Faced with wind and sand and sea and emptiness, Jake took off, and we gaped in awe.
Our bundle of smelly fur was a sleek racing machine. All four limbs flat out in the air, he sped along the shore, into the distance. A brief pause. A look behind to see where the slow two legged creatures were, and away again.
It was glorious, and we were glad.