By Han in England
So, when N (my partner in life and crime) and I moved in together, a pre-requisite of the place was that it would allow dogs. It was always the plan to get a dog – we just didn’t really know where to start looking.
We started by making a series of ludicrous fantasy breed selections – Malamute puppies, Neopolitain Mastiff rescues, Dogue de Bordeaux beauties that couldn’t find homes… Then we remembered that our cottage is basically the size of a biscuit tin and we probably couldn’t fit these fabulous pooches through the door.
Then life kicked in. We were working long, hard hours in restaurants and the fantasy moved to one side whilst we earned our keep. But one day, on the approach to my birthday, we were browsing Facebook and spotted a sad little face, stuck in a cage. There was Pops.
A lovely family with young children and a few resident cats had taken him on as an 8 week old puppy and not realised what they were letting themselves in for. Cue Pops at 18 weeks old, an utter whirlwind of teething and house-training and they had found themselves rather overwhelmed. As it seems is fashionable these days, the advert had gone onto a public page and into our stratosphere. We arranged to visit the next day, and were met with what appeared to be a Tasmanian devil who ran around in circles incoherently, biting at our ankles and our fingers, with no order or discipline beyond being bunged into a crate. Both N and myself left the house, drove a mile down the road, and simutaneously decided we simply could not leave him behind.
After some to-ing and fro-ing over price and other niggly bits, we finally arranged a date for him to come home: 14th October, 4 days prior to my birthday. He is now the most beautiful, hilarious, sassy and entitled 30kg of dog who just wants to sit on your lap full time, and I couldn’t love him more.
For more information about the project #loveinatimeofCOVID or if you would like to contribute, click here.