Sold a pup

Robin Scott bemoans the current inflation in breeder’s prices for puppies, as well as his sketchy memory

- Robin Scott

Until last week I’d forgotten how old my labrador, Sam, was. I’m hopeless on birthdays and honestly thought he had just about gone eight. It was Will, owner of his litter sister, Ella, who put me right – the lad’s fast coming up 12. You wouldn’t believe it to look at him: he’s sleek, carries no weight, his black coat’s still as glossy as ever and there’s not a grey hair in sight. True enough he isn’t quite as speedy as he used to be, but who is? How much of a useful working life does he still have to look forward to? Two seasons? Three at a push, perhaps?

If only…

With hindsight, and had I kept track of his age, I would’ve bought a pup last year to bring along and have ready to work next season. I suppose I could retrieve a little bit of time now by finding a puppy and getting the bonding/training programme underway. But with winter coming that pleasurable process quickly becomes toil. I discovered ‘four dogs ago’ that short days, dark nights, bad weather and playful pups don’t mix. Much better to start in spring when the sun’s shining and there’s fresh grass to roll a tennis ball on.