Rescue Dog Tales. Mikael Lindnord
Читать онлайн книгу.me, Arthur and the children, Arthur and Helena . . . and, above all, Arthur running about in the cold fresh air of Sweden. That was fine by us, because after all it was the interest of all his fans worldwide that had got us the help I had needed to bring him to Sweden in the first place. If there hadn’t been thousands of ‘likes’ on social media, and masses of TV and newspaper interest, who knows if the authorities would have let him make the journey.
So we were happy to have all those photocalls and to give interviews. And thankfully, it snowed. ‘Thankfully’ not just because it gave the photographers their best photo opportunities, but also because it has turned out that Arthur loves the snow. He never misses an opportunity to run about in it, and roll about in it, and then when he’s had enough of that he’ll stick his face full on into the middle of a pile of snow and give it a good hard rub. He’ll emerge from the pile like a sort of snow monster, with all the little bits of snow sticking to his thick fur. The first time he did that Philippa fell about giggling. Not surprising really, and I’m sure Arthur knew we were laughing with him not at him.
After two days of being ‘open to the public’ and all the coverage it generated, it was good to get back to being just the family. And we had a very important family ceremony to perform before we headed off to stay with my mother and father for New Year.
On 20 December, we christened Thor in Själevad’s church, just a few miles down the road from Örnsköldsvik. It’s a lovely church in a lovely setting. In a nationwide poll a few years ago it was voted Sweden’s most beautiful church, and I agree with the nation. It was a solemn occasion and for once, Arthur had to wait outside, but he behaved beautifully, almost as if he knew how important the day was.
We headed off to my parents’ house in Själevad for New Year and more family gatherings – my sister and her family would be there too, so my parents would have a very full house. Unlike Helena’s parents, who live in the middle of farmland with the nearest neighbours a mile or so away, my parents have neighbours quite close by. In the course of what was otherwise a very happy New Year, this became a bit of an issue with Arthur.
I guess if you’re a dog you like to explore any new territory you find yourself in. When Arthur first came to live with us, he looked around the house for a few minutes, decided that this was where he had always been meant to live and immediately settled down into the bed we’d bought for him. (Helena says this is because the house smelt of me, but I’m sure he also felt it looked comfortable and manageable.) But mostly he didn’t really go off on his own from that point on.
Of course, he does have a way of chasing things sometimes. Mostly cats. So he has been known to rush off suddenly and for no good reason that we can see, but he does always come back. I’m sure he doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about. A dog’s got to do what a dog’s got to do.
But it isn’t quite so easy when he’s at someone else’s house. At Helena’s family home there’s a wide area of country to explore and chase things in before he meets any neighbours. With my parents’ house it is, as I say, different. There are some busy roads and also neighbours close by, and you never know what people will think about seeing strange dogs in their garden. So when Arthur went out for a bigger-than-usual explore, disappearing for longer than normal, we worried that he might have disturbed some of the neighbours.
So at the end of our stay we made a special point of going to see them to make sure they hadn’t been upset. It was brilliant that they said, oh no, we loved seeing Arthur, he’s such a lovely dog, we wish he’d come by more often. But still, Helena and I did think that it would be best to see if a dog trainer couldn’t give us some tips for how best to ask Arthur to come back when he wandered off on one of his explores. Not training as such, but just getting him to come when he might be in danger.
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