On the 14th June this year, Snuffy the Wonderdog left us to experience the joy of unlimited butt sniffing, food stealing and arthritis-free running that I’m sure is the norm in Doggy Heaven.
Now that I have just about recovered from the loss of my most loyal pal, I thought it was a great time to share a few tales of the daftest labrador in Somerset.
Snuffy was not a barker. Or a cryer, or a growler…all in all, a pretty silent dog apart from the foghorn farting and snoring. A dog after my own heart….
One of his favourite things in all the world was a trip to the vet. Apparently our Snuffy was a masochistic mutt…
On one particular occasion he had irritated my mother by loving his trip to the vet a little too much, causing general havoc in the waiting room while trying to befriend every other animal in there in his usual over-enthusiastic manner (launching his 40kg frame at “Flopsy” sitting quivering in her 6-year-old owner’s lap was never going to endear him to anyone). She gave up trying to control him and dragged him to the car, slamming the door before heading back to the vet to pay for the latest round of jabs. On hearing the car alarm sound shortly afterwards, she was further exasperated, convinced that Snuffy (known from this point on as “the bane of her life”) was now convincingly imitating a car thief.
Finally my flustered mater made it back home, flung open the door opposite our daft dog and yelled “Come on Snuffy, get out!”. He grinned at her, he panted, he put his head on one side and did his cute puppy look for her, as demonstrated so perfectly in the above photo. But he didn’t move an inch.
This did nothing to placate his irate granny, who crossed her arms, sighed “FINE, stay there then!!” and headed to the kitchen for a soothing glass of wine, leaving the car door ajar.
Half a bottle later, it dawned on the household that Snuffy hadn’t yet come into the house, and couldn’t be seen in the garden. Cursing “that bloody dog”, mum headed back to the car, to be greeted by more sheer unabashed delight to see her. She changed her tactic, and decided to head to Snuffy’s side of the car and drag him out whether he liked it or not.
Only to find…….an inch or so of yellow, wiry, distinctively labrador hair sticking out from the closed door.
My shame-faced mother had only shut the Wonderdog’s tail in the car door, waaaaay back in the vet’s car park.
So now my boy could add “having your tail slammed in the door of a Volvo and subsequently being trapped for nearly 2 hours” to the long list of things he simply loved about the vet, along with the annual needle jabbing, thermometers up the arse and having your balls chopped off.
It’s the simple pleasures…..