Shelley the Lifeboat Labrador (2 page)

You must not take a puppy out until all the vaccinations have been administered so we had three weeks before her first one. That’s why the back lawn was ideal.  As she was unable to climb the stairs we felt confident we would both have a good night’s sleep.  All seemed fine so we thought!

As it was Sunday we decided to have a little lie in and then we both went down to find Shelley sitting in the middle of the lounge with the remains of two of my Unesco Courier Magazines and the Television Times torn to shreds. We also discovered little wet patches on our new light green carpet and a mini poo behind the sofa. We thought this could be a problem as the carpet had been provided by the builder which resulted in us both having panic attacks.

A quick phone call to Jack and we were told the best thing to do was to put newspaper on the wet patches followed by a squirt of soda with some old books on top. “It works wonders! All you need to do is to leave them for a couple of hours then lift the books and you will see the newspaper has absorbed all the pee up.”  How right he was and we knew our first major obstacle had been overcome.  We also decided to use the lawn more with little walkies around it knowing that once she was a little older this would all be a thing of the past.                                   

Initially the lounge looked like an assault course with piles of books all over the place resulting in us trying to remember which little accident was the oldest.  To overcome this we wrote notes with numbers on which made life a little easier. Rick at the Swan provided us with a regular soda siphon from the bar each week.

For three weeks we were totally occupied with Shelley. We took her with us in the basket when we went out for a drink and likewise when we visited our families back home at Hythe in Kent.  Fortunately she travelled well in the car.  She loved people and spent most of her time licking one to death or chewing one’s finger or ear – her little sharp teeth sometimes leaving a lasting impression for those who wanted to hold her.

Back at home magazines were put on top of bookcases, curtain bottoms were put on the window sills held down by more books and the legs of our new coffee table had nice little chew marks embedded in them. As for her new cane bed it was to end up as her number one chew.  Day by day and night by night it gradually reduced in size with bits of cane scattered all over the downstairs into the kitchen.  Our new Hoover became an old one when we found the bag torn to shreds and the cable chewed. I am glad to say the ironing board cover just about remained intact after it nearly crushed her when it fell down missing her by several inches resulting in a no go from then on.

As much as one wanted to scold her it was the little twinkle in her eye and the slight turn of her head looking up to you that said it all.  The more we tried; it seemed to become an impossible task trying to keep her under control. Our phone bill increased as we both rang our doggy friends to seek their advice. Friction on the home front also took a sharp rise, but not to marriage guidance level I am glad to say.  Before too long the first three weeks had passed and we were all still good friends with some form of mutual understanding.

The first injection day and arrived and we were given the name of a good veterinary surgeon in Bungay. Daphne at the Swan had used the practice for years and could not praise them enough.                                                      

When we got there having found a suitable parking place we came across this old Suffolk terrace house with marble pillars by the front door.  The entrance hall was large with ornate black and white tiles on the floor and the odd hunting picture on the wall at skewed angles.  It was cold and likewise was the receptionist.  “Name please and would you sit down in the waiting room.”  Meanwhile our four legged furry friend popped her head out from the wicker shopping basket and quickly disappeared again whimpering.                 

The waiting room had a large round table with lots of outdated Country Life magazines in the centre and the chairs looked like they had come from a residential home. Sitting in them you went through almost to the floor with the spring sticking into one’s posterior.                                                                      

Other people were there, one with a cat and a couple of others with dogs.  To my surprise there was another male gentleman sitting opposite dressed in very rural attire with a scruffy flat cap and a creamy white ferret on a lead that was curled up at his feet fast asleep.  It reminded me of the ferryman young Bob Church at Southwold who rowed across the River Blyth to Walberswick, who, I recall had a pet ferret?  He used to drink at the Harbour Inn at Southwold run by a couple called Bunnie and Lettie. If it was cold he would tuck it down his trousers to keep warm!

“Next!” Came a shout from behind a large scratched oak door and in we all went.  What a surprise we were in for!  A really charming veterinary surgeon who was in his late 60s with half framed glasses on the end of his nose who looked a little like James Herriot.  Kind and considerate, he treated Shelley with the utmost respect even giving her a nice biscuit with a promise of one more after the injection.  After a full examination which included checking her hips for displacement he asked where we got her from. On being told he said “Any dog you get from there will be excellent as they know more about Labradors than most.”  He gave her another biscuit with a twinkle in his eye. “I don’t make a habit of this as they can put on too much weight,” he said with a broad smile.

Driving back that day be both knew we had made the right decision and looking at Shelley on the back seat I think she realised she had too!

End Of Chapter Two

GROWING UP IN SOUTHWOLD – CHAPTER 3

Time soon flew by and before we knew it Shelley had had her second vaccination and was free to walk the streets and byways of Southwold and the surrounding area.

We lived in Pier Avenue which was a stones throw from the seafront and the small pier situated to the North end of the beach. The road had an avenue of nice trees and although it leads to the beach, was not that busy which was ideal for us.

Shelley’s first walk on the lead was as we anticipated full of fun. Christine purchased one of those extender leads on a ratchet and a nice brown leather collar which looked very smart indeed.  For a Labrador Shelley was small in size and we had to punch an extra hole in the collar, even then it seemed loose.

The initial walk was fine with a little bit of pulling and sniffs at every tree and fence.  To our surprise we even passed a rather large collie but there was no response whatsoever.  Once on the front we decided a nice walk along the beach would be worth a try and as it was very quiet we decided to let her off the lead.  Oh dear! We soon found out she was interested in one thing only ‘water’ and before we knew it she was running through the surf and swimming out to the end of the beach groynes and back.  Initial fear set in but within a couple of minutes she was back at our feet shaking spray all over us and rolling in the sand.  I began to wonder if she was just enjoying her first taste of freedom or was there the gun dog instinct in her having come from a farm.  Any idea of taking her into the Swan in her current condition was abandoned. We ventured around a long grass area hoping she would dry herself off, which she duly did after rolling in a small cow pat. Back home it was a                     hose down and a dry off before we even considered allowing her back onto our pristine carpet.  

Next day being a Sunday we decided to walk to the Swan via the back streets which we felt would give us an opportunity to teach her to sit at road junctions.

We were told to let her get used to one command at a time and before long she was sitting at every opportunity knowing she would get a small treat as a reward.

Once inside the lounge bar area she was greeted with such a fuss not only by the locals but by visitors there for Sunday lunch.  What surprised us was her initial response to sit beside Christine and myself and relax.  There was no wish to run off or pull on the lead any time a person came up to her.  Even Jack said that she was one of the best Labrador puppies he had seen for a long time adding that she was going to be small when fully grown.  Both of us felt we had done the right thing in taking her out at such a young age and the encouragement we had from others supported this.

From childhood I had always wanted a dog but sadly my late mother suffered from very bad asthma. I grew up at Boxley in Kent making friends with a person called Willie Marr-Johnson. I was in the choir at the church and every Christmas Willie’s mother Diana Marr-Johnson used to invite the choir up to Boxley House to sing to the family; this was followed by hot mince pies.  I first met Willie there and was then invited to the Farm to have tea with him. 

Willie’s mother was the sister of the writer Robin Maugham and her uncle was Somerset Maugham.  They had a Labrador called Sookey which I befriended straight away. Over the years Willie and I became good friends and when he returned from Prep School for the holidays most of my time was spent at Boxley House – I became part of the family!

Sadly mother’s asthma became a lot worse – and my father and her GP could not work out why.  I remember on two occasions her being taken to hospital and being connected to an oxygen cylinder.  It was later when the doctor was talking to my father that the subject of dogs came up.  From that day onwards on arrival at home I had to change out of the clothes I had been to the farm in to another set of dog free clothing.  Any idea of me approaching my parents for a puppy then went out of the window.                                                                                                               

Shelley became that escape valve after all those years of frustration. To this day Willie and I still remain good friends and his mother managed to live to the age of 99 years. In life one meets many people some becoming real friends; Willie was one of those.  I have retained friendships with people whom I still communicate with to this day with an average of one person from each of my life’s cycles.  It would be the same when I moved from Southwold.

After a few months we became part of the community and got to know more people or should I say characters.  Please don’t get the impression we lived in the local pubs. With a highly respected brewery and many establishments that sold Adnams bitter, pubs became part of our life as is often the case in small communities.

One we used was The Kings Head which again was a real local and very popular with many of the townsfolk.  Even John Adnams who owned the brewery drank there.  One could say the people of Southwold had their favourite watering holes and at certain times of the day come rain or shine those that enjoyed a drink could be found in them. 

John Snelling ran the town’s only local garage and spoke with a real Suffolk accent.  I met him via a person called Roger Trigg who was Coxswain of the lifeboat.  John always wore a suit and looked smart and was often the centre of attraction whilst having an endearing manner. He was very kind and supportive towards those that became his friends.

One Saturday when I called in (Christine was in Lowestoft shopping) John was buying a round and before I knew it there was a packet of plain crisps on the floor beside Shelley.  What amused all was the way she opened the packet. Without any hesitation she put one paw on the packet and got hold of the corner tearing it off.  This was then followed by the other paw going into the packet finishing off the top tear so she could put her mouth into it and consume all the contents.  This became her trademark for the rest of her life resulting always in three tidy pieces of packet left on the floor and not a single crisp.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Roger Trigg; as I mentioned earlier was coxswain of the local lifeboat and he was responsible for my interest in the RNLI.  At this stage in my life I only attended some fund raising events but the interest grew.  Roger was a very quiet yet brilliant helmsman on the lifeboat (he later got the RNLI Silver Medal for bravery following an arduous rescue off the Suffolk coast).  I liked him; he had always had time for me and used the Harbour Inn down by the estuary.  It was a popular pub for the local fishermen known for its fish and chips sold in newspaper and good real ale.  The local Sole Bay Jazz Band played there once a week bringing back memories of my early days at Ken Collyers Jazz Club in London.  From a young age jazz was and is to this day the music I listen to most.

Shelley often came to the Harbour Inn and got to know many of the fishermen.   After several pints I was always saying ‘do you mind holding onto Shelley while I go and spend a penny’ the toilets being outside. They were a real friendly crowd and to this day when I have called back many are still there.  Roger eventually became Harbour Master and then moved to Lowestoft where he became an instructor at the Maritime Training Centre teaching others about safety at sea.