This week we had the pleasure of having a friend of Poppy’s to stay overnight. Like Poppy, Sookie is a rescue dog. She used to live chained up in the campo, with just an old barrel for shelter, until our friends took her in.

Sookie and Poppy have met on a number of occasions, but Sookie is not part of the morning gathering on the goat track, so we wondered just how well they would get along in the confines of our house.

As soon as we had waved our friends off, the two dogs started to run from end to end of the sitting room, their legs sliding out from underneath them on the tiled floor. They bounced around with all eight feet off the ground, wrapped their paws around each other’s necks and played at boxing. Then they ran up and down a bit more, skidded about more, crashed into a few things and collapsed into a pile on top of our feet, where they spent half an hour crooning and grunting as they chewed each other’s faces.

They followed Geoff down to the office, and as I typed I could hear him chuckling at their games, and the rattle and thump of tails smacking into the bookcase. It was clear that everyone was having a high old time, and that Poppy had pointed out where the tub of dog treats is kept.

When we went upstairs to get some lunch, (did I mention that our house is upside-down?) the girls followed, skidding along the landing and nearly sliding past the bottom of the stairs up to the kitchen. Poppy is fairly blasé about the kitchen, and too short to reach the worktops easily. Sookie is not. But she is very polite, and followed Poppy out to the roof terrace when we told her to.

Once out there, they chased each other, did the sticking-the-backside-in-the-air-and-grinning-at-each-other routine, wagged insanely, trod in a plant pot or two and knocked some of the blooms off a hibiscus and a fuschia. Then Poppy decided to have a look through the railings. There is only one space for doing this. The rest of the railings are covered in hanging pots and tomato plants. Sookie waited politely, her lovely plumy tail wagging, obviously curious to know what was so interesting. Poppy made way for her and capered about woofing impatiently, while Sookie peered solemnly through the bars.

Then they were off again. The smell of mint, basil and lavender wafted through the air as they crashed about, their tails wagging furiously, smacking plants on either side. They took it in turns to charge through the hanging bead door screen and slurp noisily and at length in the water bowl, before careering back out to resume the lovely game they were playing. They were so engrossed in rolling about and chewing each other that they hardly seemed to notice that we had food. Once or twice a face grinned hopefully up at us through the glass of the table, but for the most part they cavorted and we watched as we ate. It is very difficult not to be infected by the enthusiasm and joie de vivre of one dog. Having two leaping about and enjoying themselves, the sunshine, and each other was completely beguiling. We munched happily, chuckling at their antics as the fluff they were shedding drifted gently on the herb-scented air.

The afternoon was wall-to-wall fun. The girls crashed about, followed each other around, and stopped by Boggle’s cage from time to time, whiffling their noses and watching him. Boggle was completely unfazed by the two wolfy faces peering in at him. He just whistled at them, continued rustling about in his food bowl and hissed if they got too close. When they needed a break from all the activity, they would lie down close together, all their legs in a jumble, quietly sniffing or chewing each other’s faces.

Teatime came. Geoff called the girls up to the kitchen, and I could hear him chatting to them as he measured their food out. The clunk of the bowls on the floor marked the beginning of a brief silence, followed by bellows of laughter. From what I can gather, the meal went something like this:
Dog A gets stuck into bowl A and starts snaffling her food as fast as possible
Dog B, meanwhile, is breaking speed-scoffing records at bowl B
Dog A wonders if Dog B has more interesting food, and leaves bowl A half finished to take a look.
Dog B, having finished her dinner, does not mind at all, and takes the opportunity to go and appropriate the other half of Dog A’s dinner.

Both dogs came clattering down the stairs in high good spirits, and Poppy wandered nonchalantly into the alcove where her bags of algorrobo pods are stored, to help herself to dessert. Sookie was unimpressed with algorrobos, so she seized the moment and pulled Poppy’s mat out from beneath Boggle’s cage and spread herself out on it, looking somewhat smug. Poppy showed her disdain by taking her algorrobo into her crate and chewing it happily, spitting the seeds out through the bars.

The evening passed peacefully. The girls chewed each other’s legs, rolled around together and snoozed in various places together and separately.

At bedtime, Sookie settled herself comfortably on Poppy’s mattress on the floor on Geoff’s side of the bed. Poppy walked in on her, looked confused and walked out again, crying softly. Sookie seemed a little concerned, but not enough so to move. Poppy came back in, padded about disconsolately, and cried a little more. I’m sure Sookie sympathised, but what could she do? We fetched Poppy’s rug, moved her cushion from where Sookie was not really using it, and put them on my side of them bed. Shortly after, there was the gentle sound of snoring. Geoff and the girls had drifted off to sleep, and I soon followed suit.

The next morning, Geoff and the dogs went off for the morning ritual of the walk along the goat track. Stan, who was Poppy’s first love, and had his way with her when she was first interested in such things, was delighted to meet Sookie.

Sookie is several inches taller than Poppy, and slender and leggy and totally gorgeous. Her coat is soft and silky, and somehow smells slightly herby. For Stan, it was love at first sniff. He pulled out all the stops, weeing his very tiniest wees on every rock and plant, wagging cheerfully and showing her all his best moves. Sookie was suitably impressed, and wasn’t even very upset when he accidentally weed in her ear.

Stan, the Leslie Phillips of the dog world

Poppy was less impressed, as the love of her life followed the newcomer about, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, grinning ingratiatingly. “Ding dong” he woofed silkily, a canine Leslie Phillips, smooth sophistication personified, a dog of the world on the pull.

Poppy is not the kind of girl to hold a grudge, so by the time they returned for breakfast she was happy to let bygones be bygones, and they wolfed down their breakfast cheerfully together.

More algorrobos for Poppy, more cavorting together, more crashing into furniture and skidding about on the tiled floors. The morning passed in a happy flurry of legs, teeth and fur.

And then the doorbell rang. In no time at all, Sookie had gone. Her bowl and lead were packed back into the bag with her dog food, and she walked out of the door and disappeared down the road.

The rest of the day Poppy was very subdued. She lay with her head on her front paws, the picture of dejection. She wandered from room to room. She slumped. She was not herself. She sniffed the bed where Sookie had slept. She looked through the railings that Sookie had looked through. She licked the floor where Sookie had her breakfast. She watched the cockatiel that Sookie had watched. She sniffed the bits that Sookie had sniffed. We were concerned. There was nothing we could do to help. Like a teenager, heart-broken for the first time, she was miserable and lethargic. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to be with us. We didn’t understand. It was ALL OUR FAULT and we didn’t care!

It’s a sad, sad situation

We went to bed with heavy hearts. Our baby was hurting and there was nothing we could do to make it better.

Fortunately, our baby has the attention span of a goldfish, and this morning she was up bright and early, eager to go and meet her friends on the goat track. She and Stan capered about, chewing each other’s faces and taking it in turn to wee on all their favourite places. Life is returning to normal. She seems to have forgiven him. It might take her longer to forgive us.