Do I know you?

For a dog with a huge self image, being a small and pretty, rough coated Jack Russell must be mortifying. There you are trying to project this ruffty tufty, dog about town, too cool for school persona and the first thing most people say when they see you is 'Ahhhhhhhhh, look at that little dog! Isn't she sweet? Isn't she cute?' Then - to add insult to injury - they loom over you and bend right over on straight legs and 'pat' you smartly on the top of your head! If that isn't the recipe for a headache I don't know what is!

Having observed this strange ritual being played out in a variety of scenario's, I  see the sigh of resignation and mild outrage that crosses Winnie's face every time. I can't blame her really. If you were (or are!) a small person, would you really want some complete stranger to tower over you and thump you with the flat of their hand on the top of your head? I don't think so. Why doesn't anyone bend their knees and go down to Winnie's height to greet her? Why do they all talk to her in high pitched squeaky voices? Why do they all assume she's friendly and accost her without a 'by your leave' or giving her chance to decide whether she wants to talk to strangers that day? She could be having a Marlene Dietrich moment (it has been known) and "want to be alone", but no-one would know until its too late.

Whilst Winnie is generally a friendly and sociable little girl, she is quite particular about introductions. Complete strangers who accost her out of the blue are usually favoured with a look that says in her best schoolmistresses voice:

 "Do I know you? Have we been formally introduced? No? Then I'm sorry, I can't possibly talk to you, it wouldn't be polite" 

With that comment she normally turns her back on the offending person and trots off This is a technique she particularly favours with loud, badly behaved children. Properly respectful children are allowed to approach but are not particularly encouraged. She is of the opinion that children are a very overrated novelty; to be endured rather than enjoyed - unless they have food of course.

However, people that have been properly introduced and treated her with the respect she feels she deserves, become friends for life. Once Winnie decides you are a friend, you will be committed to memory and henceforth be expected to make a huge fuss of her every time you meet. In return she will shower you with kisses and licks and, if you are an especially favoured individual, she will even wag her tail for you - not any easy thing to do for a dog with a curly tail.

When Winnie is out on her walks about town, or any other walk actually, she will constantly be scanning all horizons for signs of friends - dog or human. She quickly learns to associate certain places with certain people if she has met you there more than once. The trouble with this is that she will then expect you to be there and waiting, just in case she should pass that way. Should you not be there, then she will want to hang around and wait for you - just in case you have been unavoidably delayed, which is all very well, unless you happen to be the poor owner of Winnie who is trying to do a morning walk before dashing off to work. Its amazing how difficult it is to remove a determined terrier that has slammed the brakes on and wants to wait for a long lost buddy. It won't surprise you to know that it is often extremely difficult to reason with her in these circumstances - must be the language barrier...

There is one exception to her rule of proper introductions before talking to strangers. Men. Her preference is for young men in their 20's and the taller the better. However, she accepts that a girl cannot afford to be fussy in this day and age, so she is quite likely to accost any unsuspecting male. The embarrassment factor for this one can be huge as I'm sure you can imagine. We can be walking past a cashpoint, or a bus-stop when suddenly she will throw herself at a complete stranger. There have been instances when she has bounced vertically and has unfortunately headbutted the man straight in the crotch! This rarely endears her to her intended object of affection. Luckily though they rarely have the opportunity to hurl abuse as they seem to lose the power of speech. Which is probably just as well, as otherwise Winnie's feelings might be hurt. Just to be on the safe side I have perfected the art of the swift exit with a small confused terrier....

No way....!

Many people informed me that if I was taking on a second hand terrier there is no way I could have a cat. No way. Terriers are notorious for chasing cats after all - everyone knows that - or so I was confidently told by my friends, who were suddenly terrier experts. Apparently I might have a chance if I'd had one from a puppy and the cat was already 'in situ', so that the cat could teach the dog respect, before it grew big enough to argue back. Taking a terrier on at 17 months - no way, they  predicted.

 Trouble is, someone forgot to tell Winnie. When I asked her previous owner if she was cat friendly ( the dog, not the owner), she said that as far as she was aware she'd never met a cat, so she didn't know. She agreed to take her over to a friend who had a bouncy kitten to see how she reacted. I was a little concerned for the kitten given all my friends predictions, but I needn't have worried. I was told a couple of days later that she'd just brought all the toys over to the very non-plussed kitten and tried  to get it to play. It all sounded a little bizarre to me, but at least she hadn't acted agressively, so Winnie came on a two week trial.

When Winnie arrived at my home I waited for  the third world war to erupt. Ernie, my beautiful PBGV x JR lad, decided the best thing was to ignore her and hope that she went away. Winnie bounced round the house making herself at home when she suddenly came face to face with Dillon.

Dillon is a large, neutered ,seal point, Siamese cat. He was brought up as a kitten in a home containing two gigantic Rottweilers, so a small Jack Russell (he is taller than Winnie) was absolutely no problem. Winnie was amazed. What was it? It didn't sound like a cat, it didn't look like a cat and it didn't seem pleased to see her. In Winnie's eyes this was 'inconceivable' (to quote the Princess Bride) so she looked a little flumoxed. She looked hastily around the room and espied the toy box full of dog toys.

Whilst Dillon stood there, drawing himself up to his full imposing height and fluffing his tail just for good measure, Winnie skipped backwards and forwards piling up the toys around him. Dillon looked at me questioningly, completely non-plussed that Winnie hadn't shot away in terror by his sheer magnificence - and height. Once Winnie had piled up all her toys, she went into a play bow in front of him - front legs flat on the carpet and bottom in the air, tail wagging furiously, asking him to play. Dillon looked from her to me and back to Winnie again. Finally, he gave her a look that was exactly like Captain Mannering from Dads Army, but instead of saying 'stupid boy Pike' I swear the look said 'stupid girl Winnie'!

With that he stomped off in disgust as if he had a bad smell up his nose.....

From these inauspicious beginnings a gradual friendship has been forged, largely due to a shared love of hunting - spiders, that is. I live in an old house built in the late 1600's, complete with huge wooden beams. These seem to be a spider magnet in the autumn as the temperatures start to drop. As the house has a large and drafty fireplace, plus less than perfect fitting sash windows, gaining access to my house seems to present very few problems to determined spiders. It has to be said I'm not a great spider lover, but, generally speaking, I leave them alone if they do likewise. 

However, Winnie and Dillon have other ideas. The pair of them seem to form up some kind of bloodthirsty tag team when its spider season. Between them, no spider is safe. Dillon can hurl himself at any wall or ceiling to dislodge them, doing so with an almost balletic skill. As soon as they hit the floor, Winnie is waiting to herd and push them with her nose so that they start to scuttle. Then the pair of them hunt their prey with a kind of pincer movement, gradually chasing their prey until there is nowhere left to run. However, this is where the team work seems to break down, as Winnie will eat the spider if she can. This infuriates Dillon, as he like to play with the spiders, monster that he is. So an early dispatch by Winnie often earns her a sharp clip round the ear from Dillon.

 I think he sees himself as the brains of the partnership.

Since  Ernie died last November, the two of them have become much closer. Now I can often find the two of them curled up on my bed together. However, I think this is more Dillon's idea than Winnie's, as she often wakes up looking a little startled when she finds Dillon snoring in her ear. She knows he has claws and is not afraid to use them. Although in Dillon's defence, I have never seen him bat her with his claws out, but I believe the threat of violence if often enough.....