On our first evening at our new house, after we’d finished unloading and having a well earned rest we were visited by a random dog that trotted in like he owned the place. After inspecting his collar we identified him as Dozer from two doors up.
He must be one of those intelliegent dogs that takes himself for walks because his owners never seem to shut him in and since we moved here he pays us regular visits at least every other day. Sometimes he tries to get us to play stick with him and other days he’ll stop by for a quick bottom scratch, a sniff round the house to check it’s all in order, and then be on his way.
He really is a lovely dog, part Staffie and something else I’m not quite sure of. Here are some photos of him trying to coax me into a game with a stick, which Mat has advised me not to throw for him. Apparently there is the danger of the stick getting stuck in the ground facing the oncoming dog like a spear and impaling him by accident; a very valid risk that I had never considered before.
He reminds me a lot of my brother’s dog, Bryn who I used to walk regularly back in the UK. I miss my walks with Bryn and my aunty’s dog, Rosie, heaps. For me, taking a dog out gives a walk purpose and makes it ten times more enjoyable. I have been thinking about going and asking Dozer’s owners if they would mind me taking him for a walk once in a while but I haven’t quite plucked up the courage yet. I’m worried about what they might think which is daft really as the worst that can happen is they say no isn’t it?