Happy birthday Dilly!

B eventually conceded 4 years ago to getting a dog for the family. She wanted a lapdog. I was having none of it. I wouldn't be seen dead taking a chihuahua out for a walk. If she wanted one, then I'd have little to do with it. Those were my rules.

At some point, not sure when, I managed to get her to consider looking at a Welshie, which she reluctantly agreed to, providing it didn't grow too big. "They're medium dogs" I explained. "Not Big". We found some pups and arranged our interview once they were eventually born. I think it was that first sight that turned her corner, although there was still a sense of apprehension. Dilly's mother, Zoe, was absolutely beautiful, as was the whole litter, but Gussy had picked out his favourite from the early pictures. His birth name was Blaze, due to his markings. On his back was a white flash that looked like a question mark. Gussy knew that he was the one, but we had to be interviewed. Would we come up to scratch? Which pup would we be allocated if we passed scrutiny?

We did pass, and Kathleen (the breeder) gave us...you've guessed it, Blaze! Now known as Dylan or Dilly to family. (nothing to do with Dylan Thomas, but we read by chance about 'di i ddilyn' a welsh verb relating to a dog [a verb?, go figure - something lost in translation I suspect], and as our eldest had even said he would only ever refer to him as 'dog', it seemed apt that we named him Dylan!) I digress. We got 'Blaze', because he was the most boisterous, biggest (his paws were huge) and the greediest at feeding time - survival of the fittest. As we had two boys, Kathleen thought we could handle that!

Well for sure, we got the boisterous one!. Don't get me wrong, he is soooo loving and so sweet. He's adorable. But when people come to the house, he goes crazy mental! It lasts for about 5 minutes where he is beside himself with excitement. He doesn't know what to do next. We've tried everything to keep him calm, but nothing works. It wears off, but all the visitor has to do is pop to their car, and it starts all over again when they come back in. Crazy!.

So we pick him up from the depths of Sussex and have a 2 hour journey home - with a 9 week old pup. He's shivering and whimpering as we get him into the car. We have a scarf sprayed with some chemical that is supposed to give off a mother's scent, to try and keep him calm. B sits in the back seat with him, cuddling him, protecting him from the outside world. He just looks up at her with those puppy eyes, sad as you can imagine, with B stroking him for comfort. He hardly moved a muscle the whole journey. he did eventually stop pining for his mother and siblings and fell off to sleep.

By the time we reached home, B's blouse was soaked through from where she was cradling him, from her neck, shoulder and arm down to her waist, all clinging to her. Not once did she moan. He was clearly so disorientated from this new adventure that he just salivated non-stop for 2 hours. This was her first experience as a dog owner, but not her first as a mother and instinct had taken over.

He loves his family and his home, that is clear, but I feel that journey established a special bond between Dilly and B, his new mum. He is her shadow, wherever she goes. He lies outside her bedroom waiting for her to emerge. When she was ill, he held vigil by her bedside and would not move unless she stirred, whence he sat bolt upright.
He knew all was not well.

B got her lapdog. Just a little larger than expected! Happy 4th birthday Dilly.