Creative writing submission from the Rest Less community – submit your entry here.
I know so little about the sausages’ actual past, having rescued them, and almost all of what I was told appears to have been both nonsense and a pack of lies. I know as fact that Willow had at least one litter of puppies when I was assured she hadn’t ever had any; that Bear has suffered physical abuse, having his nose broken and that both behaved like they’d never been taken out.
Initially, walking down a street or being let off-lead to run around with other dogs, they were terrified of open spaces and of all people they didn’t know. Over the last year, they’ve literally come on leaps and bounds, and I’ve worked hard to build their confidence and expose them to new, safe experiences. I needed to show them that they don’t need to be afraid of everything and that most (maybe not all) people are good and kind.
Willow is still a shouter; Bear is less so, and her tail is still firmly tucked under until you prove yourself a friend, whereupon she’s very generous with her cuddles and kisses. Bear now willingly approaches people for a tickle, and he’s one of those sensitive little souls who – if you’re feeling lost, sad or poorly – will snuggle up with you, demonstrating both care and camaraderie.
Something I find interesting about Bear in particular is that he loves children, especially the little ones. I have no idea where this trust comes from (certainly not myself), as his previous existence showed no signs of small children. Somewhere along the line, though, there must have been a child who was kind to him and showed him the love that no one else did.
I say this because – as soon as he sees one – he wants to approach, and when he does, he’s gentle, generous with kisses and immensely trusting. My best friend’s four-year-old is obsessed with both sausages, Bear in particular, and even though she’s going through that cute aggression phase which means her mum and I are regularly having to rescue him, he never once complains. He goes instantly to her, trusting her and obliging, even when being squished!
Only four weeks after they came to live with me last year, I took them to Weymouth beach and whilst they appeared to enjoy themselves, they would not enter the water, refusing to paddle. We’ve been back several times since then, but only along the seafront. So, I was ecstatic on Tuesday evening when, taking them to the beach to meet my friends, the incredible happened.
We put out our mats on the sand, and I popped on my water shoes. Both sausages were off-lead when we were suddenly mugged by a wonderful six-month-old, smooth-haired red called Reggie. The owner chatted with us as the three sausages loudly played chase, romping about and having a whale of a time. At one point, the owner left him with us whilst he took his wife a poo bag for their other dog (Ronnie…..get it?) and I was very tempted to pop him in my towel bag and run off with him, so delightful was he.
Once Reggie had moved on, I took myself down to the water’s edge, desperate to cool off my sore and swollen joints in the sea. Knowing Kate would keep an eye out for the little beasties, I waded in, going up to my knees. Turning back to the beach, I saw both sausages watching me from the water’s edge and so instinctively, I called them. To my surprise, they both came, their little legs soon off the sand, and they swam to me, literally swam! I began praising them loudly, encouraging them and yelling at my friends to see this miraculous feat.
I know it’s only swimming, and most dogs swim, but I don’t believe they’ve ever swum before and more importantly, it was the trust they showed in me by swimming out to me, something they would not have done a year ago. I know all those other dog owners – chucking balls in the water and watching their doodles, spaniels, and shepherds, rushing in without a care – must have thought I was mad to be so excited. The thing is, it’s different for them. This was a milestone in our relationship; it wasn’t just about bravery and swimming skills, but trust and love.
I could not have been prouder as their mother, as a year ago, I couldn’t even get them to get their feet wet. One lady was kind as her lab rushed past us after a ball. Seeing my delight, she commented: “Ahh, bless, they’re not exactly built for swimming, are they? Well done them!”
Wanting to build on our success, I decided last night to meet the same friends with Zelda (their Shiba Inu) down at the Washponds on Watergate Lane in Broadmayne. Initially, they loved it, took off on their own and swam backwards and forwards across the river, but it was much colder than the sea and, as they are Dachshunds after all, it soon became too cold for Bear in particular. They retreated under my skirts, shivering, as I sat on the edge, dangling my feet.
I was better prepared last night. I took their collars off, brought a change of harness and lots of warm, dry towels so that they quickly dried off and were comfortable again, but I couldn’t have been happier.
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