A boy's best friend

With plans to breed from Mabel afoot, Charlie has his heart set on a pup of his own, so father, son and dog head out for a spot of training

- RICHARD NEGUS

Watching the two of them, the dog and the boy, wrestling around on the lawn gave me cause for a wry grin. Not that long ago, when Mabel was a puppy, I had forbidden Charlie from teaching the stripling any bad habits — no ball chasing, no tugging, no spoiling, no fighting, no biting, no inconsistency. A hardhearted standpoint perhaps, this liturgy of don’ts, but essential for the pup’s education.

Charlie has grown up with dogs; he is an only child, so they are the closest thing he has to siblings. His first word ‘Gheee’ he repeated over and over. My wife and I eventually twigged he was calling our aged whippet, Ghillie. His maiden tottering steps were achieved by him taking a firm hold on shaggy lurcher fur. Dear old Ruby, wincing throughout, accepted the role of walking frame with doe-eyed stoicism.

However, Mabel was the first puppy Charlie had experienced. Enticing and endearing as she was, I kept them separated from one another while I trained the young dog. These days, though, I am more lax and thus Charlie has a fine playmate in my cocker bitch. They romp in the garden together, enjoying boisterous games of hide and seek, chase and tag — usually at the expense of my delphiniums.

Mabel will be four before long and Mrs Negus and I had agreed that it was time to breed from our little paragon. She is well bred, possesses a perfect temperament and works like a demon. We have earmarked a mate for her — a keeper’s dog, a solid liver-coloured chap called Goose, from just over on the wrong side of the river Stour. Charlie had listened in on our matrimonial plans for Mabel, and this initiated a campaign of persuasion by him that we should let him have one of the puppies, should the MabelGoose union prove fruitful.