As a country boy, I’ve always been of the view that owning a dog in a city is a bit of a bad idea… the dog doesn’t have much space to grow up in and frankly, city dog owners appear to be rather rubbish at cleaning up after their pets. Dina on the other hand had almost always had a pet growing up in come of the biggest cities in Asia. It’s fair to say we had bit of a different point of view.
However, as is her gift, Dina managed to get me to say yes to us owning a puppy a few weeks ago… she specifically wanted an English Bulldog and in a moment of madness (that’s the current word for it) I agreed. Somehow she managed to find one in Bangalore… where there is a will, there most certainly is a way. Since then it has been pee, poop, late nights, early mornings and no end of nibbling. Yet the wee sod is terribly loveable.
He’s always happy to play, enjoys his morning and evening walks (mostly) and grows a little bit every day… climbing stairs (up and down) is the latest trick. He’s been opening drawers for well over a week, though we’ve yet to train him to climb inside one. The training thing is proving difficult to be honest, mostly because he doesn’t seem to enjoy any of the treats we’ve been buying him, though I’m hopeful that we can master the potty training in the next few weeks.
We also did have bit of a debate on the name… Dina wanted to call the boy Rufus… which clearly was never going to happen because he would get bullied at Doggy School (I mean really!?). For an English Bulldog it had to be something strong and as the Insurance Advert dog had already claimed Churchill (great name for a Bulldog!), we agreed to Cromwell – the name of the street we lived on when we got married, and of course the Lord Protector of the English Crown when beheading monarchs was all the rage.