It’s been a while since I posted here – and a while since I’ve sat down to write.. Why?

In November 2024 we adopted a rescue dog called Chief from Northumberland Dog Rescue. Over the last few months, Chief has taken up most of the available space in my life. Here’s the story.

I had no idea what having a dog would be like. There were dogs around when I was a kid, usually following my mum around or hanging out on the lawn. They weren’t a big deal. I vaguely thought it would be like having a cat, but with walks thrown in.

I did want a beautiful dog – not cute, but beautiful and thrilling. As a teenager I had worked for a woman who had two salukis, and they impressed me enormously with their langorous athleticism. So when we set off for the Rescue Kennels, saluki was what I had in mind.

And there was Chief – a saluki-lurcher cross, pale gold with glamorous black eyelashes and a streaming tail to die for. True, he was somewhat overweight, even lumbering. But that would all change once he came to live with us.

We had an introductory meeting in the small backyard of the kennels, where we tossed balls which he obligingly leapt for and returned. We stroked him and he wagged his tail. As with our general unawareness of what was happening to us, we were oblivious to the fact that we were being closely observed too – by the staff.

The next step was going for a walk with him and his volunteer, sauntering along the streets of the village just a few miles from where I grew up. We walked through the churchyard where my parents are buried; how strange that the volunteer should choose just that route. Then, on the way home, a small fluffy dog came round the corner and Chief was suddenly transformed into a lunging fury. All three of us – the volunteer, Michael and I – were needed to hang on to him while the volunteer tried futilely to distract him with treats. Did we tremble, as we should have done? No. We thought it was funny. The fluffy dog’s owner hurried away, saying reproachfully over her shoulder, ‘He’s so BIG!’

The decision to adopt Chief was made entirely from the heart, with no intervention of reason, no sensible consideration as to whether we could actually cope with such a challenging dog. We didn’t understand the challenges. At the adoption interview, I listened to Sue, the manager, going through all the negatives without paying any attention. I just wanted to sign the papers.

Chief was brought to the Rescue Kennels by the local council Animal Welfare officer. He was owned by youngsters – ‘druggies’, in Sue’s description – who used him for illegal coursing. He was shut out in a yard all day and disturbed the neighbours with his howls. He was to be at the kennels for the next three years. He had one adoption attempt but was returned after two months after he started snapping at the man in the house. That was his only experience of domestic life.

When Chief finally came home with us he was wildly over-excited. He raced around the house, skidding along the wood floors, thundering up and down the stairs, leaping over the furniture. Any reproof only upped the ante. Outside in the garden, which we’d optimistically believed was dog-proof, it took him less than ten minutes to find a weak spot. For the first time we witnessed the elegant athleticism of his breed as he leapt clear of the fence, into the field beyond. Utter panic. Mercifully he let us catch up with him, just five minutes before the neighbour’s two pugs came round the corner.

At last bed-time came, and we shut him into the living-room with his nice new bed. Twenty minutes later the howling started, followed by house-shaking thumps as he hurled himself against the door. ‘I don’t think he wants to be left alone,’ I said weakly. ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa and keep him company.’

I got myself comfy and settled down to sleep. For fully five minutes all was calm. Then he hurled himself onto the sofa to join me – 35 kilos of over-excited sighthound landing right on my stomach. I shot into the air, yelling with pain. He howled, I yelled….

It was to be a sleepless night for all of us.

What we were learning in that first 24 hours was what the fluffy dog’s owner had tried to tell us.  He’s so BIG!  Everything to do with Chief is writ large.

…………………………………………….

For the next few weeks – months –  we were in a constant state of anxiety. The first time we walked him through the village another dog appeared at the cross-roads and once again, Chief turned into a lunging, barking fury as we struggled to control him. Suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore. On another occasion a walker coming unexpectedly round the side of a hedge provoked an attempted assault, leaving the man cowering behind the hedge. Later, he called round to the house demanding that we muzzle Chief in future.

Walks became a nerve-wracking ordeal, constantly on the lookout for other dogs and other people. Fear goes down the lead, is the training mantra. Show the dog you are confident! But how to stop the fear? It wasn’t just the dogs. The countryside around us is rich in wildlife, and we would often encounter deer and hares. Chief’s prey drive kicked in ferociously and he would be after them in seconds, dragging us to the ground behind him.

Chief’s behaviour wasn’t necessarily so different from plenty of other dogs with reactivity issues and a high prey drive. But it was the So Big principle. His size and sheer physical strength put him in a different league.

How were we to control him? I was convinced that we needed a dog trainer to help us, but there was no-one available locally. I watched endless online videos that guaranteed to cure reactive behaviour. I read books. At last Sue, the manager from the Rescue Centre came to help us.

From that visit, glimmers of light began to dawn. Training was one thing. But management, we learned, was another, and it was available to us.  Our retractable lead was swapped for a slip lead, that gave close control. Our pockets were filled with yummy treats to distract his attention. And she demonstrated a style of close walking he had been taught but which we were unaware of.

After her visit we had strategies.

Looking back now, it’s obvious it wasn’t only us. Chief was anxious too. On walks, he was constantly stopping, looking behind him, at times inexplicably refusing to move. After three years in kennels, the openness of the country was frightening for him. He had no idea what he was going to meet. And although we seemed nice enough people, he didn’t know us well enough to trust.

This is what we’ve learned about our different viewpoints.

POINTS OF VIEW: CHIEF and his PEOPLE

 People’s idea of going for a walk

Stroll along with dog trotting at your side gazing at nature or chatting to a companion. Let dog off lead to go and explore by himself but give a quick whistle to bring him back to your side if he seems to be roaming too far. When you meet other dogs, he can have a friendly sniff before walking on. Sometimes you throw a ball or stick to amuse him – he eagerly runs after it and brings it back to you. He ignores distractions like deer, hares, sheep and squirrels because his attention is entirely focused on you, his loving bond-mate.

Chief’s idea of going for a walk:

Put your nose to the ground and get sniffing. Head for high ground where you can stare out over open countryside and spot movement. Dive straight into the thickest undergrowth at any sound. Once you have your prey in your sights, pause for a moment to calculate strategy and then go! Give every ounce of your being to the chase. When you come up to the hare, toss it in the air again and again to celebrate before you kill it.

As a sideline, keep an eye out for other dogs. When you spot them, get that tail up and hackles too so they know who’s coming. Prance along in a menacing way till they are within range and then lunge fast and sudden into the attack.

A decent sporting expedition should last a few hours. If the People don’t understand this and try to drag you home, brace your paws firmly into the ground and make yourself immoveable. They’ll soon give up.

People’s idea of a pleasant evening.

Get onto the sofa in the living room. Get there fast before Chief can monopolise it. Everyone says how much lurchers love a sofa, so it would be mean not to let him on it. But he has to learn to share. The People dream of happy evenings, all three together, with Chief’s head on Woman’s lap getting a nice stroke while we watch tv. It’s the family togetherness that is so emotionally fulfilling about dog ownership

Chief’s idea of a pleasant evening.

Get onto the sofa in the living room. Get there fast before the People come in and stretch right out to make clear it is your exclusive territory. If they try sitting on it, push hard with your hind legs to get them off. If they try softening you up with cuddles, gasp and pant hard to make it clear you are very stressed. They’ll soon clear off onto an armchair. If they really persist you may have to resort to a quick snap – nothing vicious, just to get the message across. Sooner or later they’ll learn.

People’s idea of an expedition.

One of the fun things about having a dog is taking him to new exciting places. Dogs love that! We can take him to Paxton House and walk in the lovely grounds or along the Tweed. Or to the beach – Cocklawburn has miles of amazing sandy beaches, perfect for dogs to get a really good run and a dip in the sea. So lovely to see a dog enjoying himself on a day out! We can round it off with a visit to the pub and a drink with other dog owners out in the beer garden.

.Chief’s idea of expeditions.

This is where the People put you in a car and take you to somewhere you’ve never been before. It is a complete nightmare. There are so many new scents you don’t know where to start. Sometimes it means going downhill or into dark woodland where you can’t see more than a few yards ahead. It is impossible to know what’s coming. Or there is a car park where other dogs are being put in and out of cars. You have to bark as loudly as possible to let them know you’re here, and that you are still top dog even if you’ve never been here before.

Almost the worst is the beach. Just endless sand, no cover for prey of any kind, and other dogs rushing about off their leads in all directions. It’s hell.  Best to dig the paws in and refuse to move.

Once they took me to a pub. That didn’t go well.

People’s idea of Home Alone

Chief is a pretty independent dog who gets on with himself. He’d rather have us around, but he’ll soon get used to being left alone for a few hours. He’ll learn that we always come back!

Chief’s idea of Home Alone

Sometimes the People go out without me. They shut me in the living room with a treat, so I know what’s coming. The treat distracts me for a while, but then I get bad memories, of that yard where first Man kept me and no-one came near me all day. Do you know about vulnerable? That’s how I feel, all over again.  I wish they would come home. Soon.

Chief’s idea of Bonding

Bonding is what you are supposed to do with People. I haven’t done Bonding before. My first Man didn’t do Bonding. At the Kennels, I liked all the girls – and the treats they dished out – but there wasn’t anyone special. Now I have my own Woman and Man and I do Bonding. I like Bonding. I can talk to them and sometimes they understand. We have a laugh in the garden doing zoomies and I can get a cuddle whenever I want. I’m not bothered about absconding now. This is my place and I make sure every dog in the village knows that.

People’s idea of Bonding

I love Chief. Sometimes it feels so amazing that he is here that I have to sit and stare at him. He’s so beautiful. I work hard to remember he is a dog, and not to project human emotions onto him. But as we get more relaxed with each other, we communicate more. I’ll suddenly feel a nose push into my hand, and he’ll be there beside me, tail wagging. He’ll co-operate rather than defy these days.

Sometimes, when we get back from our morning walk, I sit in the garden with a cup of tea and Chief leans against me – the lurcher lean. We sit / lean together and watch the garden.