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Category Archives: romance

in all weathers and the Houdini show…

Brin hated rain.

In England that would prove a problem.

Being a relatively clean dog inside the house as soon as the rain would fall he would flatly refuse to budge outside meaning accidents would happen on a daily basis.

In Afghanistan the rain can come down very hard, so hard it can actually hurt, and it was this memory that seemed to strike a deep fear in him.

The only way to tackle this problem was to meet it head on and so, donned with waterproof clothing, I would take him out to the forest in torrential down pours avoiding the stares of people sitting in their steamed up cars wondering if I was totally mad or being totally cruel to a miserable looking dog who looked as though he wanted to sink into the mud swirling around his feet and give up.

a little light rain!

But it worked. After a few months of dragging him through acres of soggy forest Brin became used to the puddles and mud and eventually was happy to go out into the garden once more.

Next came the snow.

He had never witnessed a full snow fall before other than a shovel-full that had been placed in his quarantine kennel many months before.

I had been getting up around 2am to let him out for a while now as he was quite nocturnal when he first came home but this time he would be met with around 10 inches of fresh snow.

Instead of being tired, I felt like a joyful mum watching her child play for the first time.

2am and out we went…

I had bought him a coat but that idea was quickly eaten ending up in shreds on the floor.

Brin loved the snow and I loved seeing him run, jump and dig in it all. He was really enjoying his new discovery and instead of having to encourage him to out nothing would now get him in!

What snowball?..Where?

even his own igloo…

He continued to learn about all things new and with that came a lot of pleasure and joy witnessing his freedom to explore and the fun he had while doing so.

The digging of deep holes at night-time was starting to subside but with that also came his desire to be free of his bed inside the crate.

I had said goodnight to him and he settled down and appeared to be sleeping. I had got into bed and was just falling asleep when I heard a strange noise rather like a soft squeaking sound.

Getting up I walked to his room and listened through the door. The noise came again, this time followed by a snuffling sound on the other side of door. In my disbelief I entered the room to be met by Brin totally out of his crate that was still locked and with no damage whatsoever. I still to this day have no idea how he got out of it…I can only think he squeezed himself between the floor of the crate and the upper bars…it made my stomach churn as he could have so easily trapped his neck.

Brin loved his bed..until one night…

Brin had had enough and now resides on the end of our bed and, despite his loud snoring, we never know he is there.

And secretly, we prefer it that way.

 

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well, I didn’t like that plant anyway…

Brin loves the outdoors and will spend hours sitting on his table (yes table) surveying the garden.

He also likes to dive into any shrub, bush or flower bed containing anything that should be ‘naturally’ upright squashing them flat. I have also never known a dog to ‘disappear’ so quickly, as if by magic.

He also walks on tip toes..literally. I have never seen this before but observed this talent when he discovered a rat living under our shed. Brin would rush out in the evening, stop, listen then tip toe across the patio.

It is the funniest thing to watch.

The problem is that once he gets ‘one on’ there is no stopping him.

this once was tidy…

In my greenhouse there was a mouse…a small country mouse that I had been quite happy to share my space with. Brin knew it was there and I would have to trick him into moving away by throwing a toy if I ever wanted to open the door.

His obsession with this mouse grew quite intense and he would snort loudly through the crevices, where the greenhouse was nailed against the wall, as if he thought could blow the critter out… rather like the battle between the wolf and the three little pigs.

For weeks I managed to keep him away but Brin, being Brin, was not going to give up easily.

The door had been left slighty ajar one evening and with one swift swipe of his paw he managed to prise it open and fly inside.

As I have mentioned before these dogs are strong..very strong..very stubborn and impossible to move.

The chaos that ensued was frightening. Shelves came down, pots went flying and to cap it all, in his effort to grab the mouse who was in full flight (bar a superman cape) he backed up and went straight through three panes of glass. Luckily, two broke away from him and I just managed to catch the top one before it came down  on his back.

Out came the mouse, followed by Brin, and the once adorned flowerbed adjacent to the now wrecked greenhouse became a hunting ground. Leaves, flowers and mud flew everywhere and as I stood there clutching the heavy loose pane I could do nothing but watch in despair.

The mouse had hidden itself in a clay ornament, shaped like a huge mushroom, and Brin was now snorting loudly though the base of it. Over it went and with one stomp of his paw the top broke off and he saw, to his delight, his long-awaited prize.

The mouse is now buried under a forlorn looking rose that once had many blooms.

 

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motorways and lamposts…

The day that Kilo and Brin would meet loomed and Sue and I were slightly anxious that they would not like each other despite all the ‘lurve’ shared on their pages. Afghan dogs are not known for their accepting attitude towards other dogs and Brin had always disliked the bigger ones. Kilo didn’t like smaller dogs and so this was certainly going to be an interesting moment.

Sixty people were due to attend along with Pen Farthing the founder of Nowzad who was going to give a talk about the charity.

The journey for me would take just over 3 1/2 hours and I had never travelled such a distance with Brin so was a little nervous about how he would cope.

I bought a car restraint for him but this was duly chomped through before I got to the end of my road so I resigned myself to driving slowly or brake suddenly and wear him as a scarf.

The journey was not too bad and we only stopped just a couple of times to stretch our legs and soon we arrived at the hotel where all the staff were very excited to meet him, having found many articles on the internet and printing them out for everyone to read. They had even saved him his favourite food…bacon.

Signing the admission form I noticed that it stated that dogs were not on allowed on the bed and I assured them that this would not happen and that I brought his bed to sleep on.

Brin, it seemed. had other ideas..

The next day preparations took place for the gathering, which was to take place at a nearby hall surrounded by a lovely field where we agreed to allow the dogs to meet.

Brin dressed up for the occasion and looked very smart indeed and for once the chomp action was firmly out of reach of it’s target!

Brin and I waited outside while Sue and Kilo walked out of the hall towards us and we both prayed!

Keeping a safe distance the two dogs sniffed the air but made no move towards each other which was a relief on all sides.

The whole evening was a fabulous success with people coming from all over England and flying in from Europe to meet the dogs and hear more about Nowzad. With the raffle (including the Pant’s quest picture) we raised over £2,000 for the charity.

Both Brin and Kilo were totally spoilt but, above all, friendly and gentle towards everyone who came close.

Sue and I were so proud of these dogs and, knowing just how hard we had both worked to build their confidence, this really showed that it was all paying off.

Sue and I meet for the first time

Exhausted, both Brin and I fell into bed around 11.30 that night, but not before I had taken a wrong turn on the way back to the hotel and driven 10 miles down the motorway before being able to turn round.

Brin had been a star, along with Kilo, and this would prove to be one of many trips he would make to meet many people who so longed to stroke a canine hero from Afghanistan.

 

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Knock knock…

June 2011 brought a wonderful surprise.

Once a year the PDSA announce awards for animals who have achieved outstanding bravery/devotion and loyalty.

Brin’s story was, indeed, well known but I had no idea it had made it to their boardroom for consideration among so many others.

Brin was selected for the PDSA Loyalty Award for never leaving the soldiers while on patrol in Afghanistan and a huge achievement for a small brown stray from Afghanistan. Everyone who had cared for him were so very proud and no one more so than Cpt Mark.

The framed certificate arrived along with a wonderful letter of congratulations and, after making a copy for myself, I sent the original on to Mark to keep forever.

A few weeks later a PDSA van arrived at our local pet store and I took Brin, and his award, along to show it to them as they had never seen one before.

Brin was also offered a free health check and weigh-in but declined…

Many of the other strays that the troops have befriended over there have shown similar loyalty and I hoped that this award would help to raise the profile of these incredible animals who often go unsung in recognition of the unconditional devotion they give despite all they go through.

 

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where there’s muck…

Brin had a few visits planned to say thankyou to the people who had helped to raise fund to get him home and so off we set to meet the children at my school who had followed his journey and were so excited to know he had made it home.

I had used his story as part of a lesson I was teaching them about animal welfare. There was to be a debate about whether animals should be used in war, rescues and security.

This debate proved really interesting as they spoke about the reality of situations, through research, far beyond their experiences, thank god.

The outcome was that animals should be used if it meant the saving of a human life.

Brin had saved lives without any specialist training of course. This is what made his story that more remarkable. He knew where the dangers where just by having to survive everyday. People say that they wished their animals could speak but in Brin’s case I am glad he couldn’t as I feel the pain of his experiences would be very hard to bear.

Brin behaved impeccably at the school where over 100 children lined up to stroke him. Cpt. Mark came along to talk to the children about Brin’s life in Afghanistan, bringing with him Sam his own dog. I would have thought Brin would have freaked at meeting such a huge dog but he just greeted him normally as if he knew that he was part of Mark’s family.

Brins tolerance of children was amazing for, in Afghanistan, the new generation of youngsters have, sadly, been brought up to fear strays and their treatment of them has been known to be pretty harsh at times. Brin either escaped such treatment or managed to steer clear for his friendliness was lovely to witness and no children were eaten that day!

Raising funds to help other dogs and cats make it home was always on my mind and one day, while walking in the forest Brin came upon a pair of underpants lying by the base of a tree. He wanted to carry these with him but I managed to persuade him otherwise. I documented this story in pictures as he would rush back each day to check on his ‘treasure’. Other items were also found and the hilarity of his ‘finds’ made for a fundraising idea.

The pants were framed and auctioned along with pictures of his ‘Quest’ and raised a good amount for the charity..the couple who won them were delighted… apart from the fact that when they hung it on their wall it promptly fell down and hit them on the head!

It seemed wherever he went he caused chaos!

 

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sometimes…

Four months in.

Brin would still guard doorways and, despite the house becoming a little like the visiting room of the local prison due to the ever-increasing number of stair-gates, we all were getting used to his quirks and quibbles.

Brin was never going to be easy but there were brief glimpses of him relaxing more and becoming less demanding on my time.

I was also getting used to walking him out in the forest and I seemed to have developed a 6th sense of what was around the corner. Small dogs were never a problem even if they chose to hang off his top lip and this led me to believe that sometime, in his past, he either was around puppies or had fathered some.

Big dogs remained a problem and around here there are many and sometimes I would be so tired and physically exhausted after a walk I would cry.

People were often very good when they stopped long enough to hear his story. Some were not and, often at a time when I felt particularly low, their words would hurt. It often felt very lonely.

Everyday I would take him out, rain or shine, and I learnt to swiftly dive into the thick undergrowth when the enemy according to Brin’ would appear over the horizon. I took to taking him out mid-afternoon as this time was the quietest and the people walking their dogs were often more sympathetic to a woman hanging on for dear life to a dog who had a bark loud enough to wake the devil.

Sometimes it felt that life would have been easier had I decided not to take him on.

My home would be gate free and my nerves, having to cope with the growling every time someone came up the stairs or if one of the dogs decided to amble innocently into the room, would be less frazzled.

I seemed to spend all my whole time trying to avoid situations and, to be quite honest, I was often at the end of my tether. I adored him but the feral in him was tough to break and it seemed, at times, we would always be living on a knife-edge with Brin with me in tow trying to keep things together.

It became a huge responsibly caring for Brin as he also now had many people following his antics on his Facebook page. I didn’t share the tough times except through private messages to Sue and other Afghan rescue dog owners. But it seemed we all were going through similar situations and this helped so much knowing I was not alone.

Brin was also raising much-needed funds for Nowzad through his antics…and one in-particular caused quite a stir…

 

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trials and tribulations…

Brin had now been at home for just over three months and everyday brought new challenges, lessons but above all laughter.

Brin was becoming a real character and his confidence to cope with many new things were developing well.

One major problem, however, was rain.

Afghanistan is known for torrential downpours and these downpours are short, sharp and severe. The rain comes down so hard is actually hurts causing man and beast to run for cover.

Living in the UK Brin was going to have to learn a lot about rain!

The amount of ‘accidents’ in the house increased with every wet day as his refusal to go outside became a serious problem. I decided to meet this head on and, during one of the wettest days since his homecoming, I donned hat, mac and boots and took him to the forest. Sensible people were at home and, as I sat in my car in the totally vacant car park, I wished I could do the same.

Rivers were literally pouring down the tracks and despite my coverings the rain seeped in to soak everything underneath. With one miserable looking dog by my side we ventured on our way.

One thing I did notice was his coat. He looked rather like a duck in the way the water would form into beads and run off his body leaving his undercoat totally dry. My other dogs would have been thoroughly drenched by now.

Arriving at the pond we turned to walk along a sheltered path and Brin seemed to relax and accept his fate of coping with the downpour and started to enjoy his outing.

Suddenly, from nowhere there came a dog from the bushes and with that Brin became super charged and started giving chase. Holding on with all my might, the mud beneath my feet became the perfect medium for land-surfing and, yet again, pain shot up my arm. Landing on my backside I managed to keep hold by using two hands and my feet, but still travelled along the ground at speed. The dog had long disappeared into the undergrowth and Brin had become entangled in scrub bringing him to an abrupt halt. Slowly standing up I noticed that, by a miracle, I had just missed a huge pile of fresh horse manure and, although it maybe great for roses, laying in that would have certainly clinched the deal on what had turned out to be yet another nightmare moment.

My hand was throbbing badly and fears of yet another break came to mind.

As it turned out I had dislocated my little finger which took 6 weeks to heal.

After that, Brin coped with rain and the accidents in the house decreased, apart from now and then.

 

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