Hi. My name is Hope. I am a puppy Westie as in West Highland White Terrier. I have a favorite uncle called Barry who takes me for very long walks. Hikes really. Also, he gives me many treats. It turns out he has had a soft spot for Westies ever since unannounced, he was joined on-stage by one while he was singing at a garden party gig. The Westie stole the show – without singing. Thespians will tell you never to work with kids or animals.
I get a kick out of the way Barry reacts to the way I react to him when he collects me from my human mom’s home. Even if I saw him the previous day, I jump up and down as though I had not seen him for months and while I am on my hind legs, which is often when I am excited, he takes my fore paws in his (he calls his fore paws ‘hands’ for some reason) and we dance while he hums and whistles The Skaters Waltz. He is a good dancer.
Rain or shine we go for walks deep into the largely coniferous rain forest close to where we live. Uncle Barry looks for eagles, Steller’s jays, woodpeckers, varied thrushes and humming birds and I look for squirrels, bears and other Westies. OK I was kidding about the bears but they are out there as are bobcats, cougars and coyotes. We live in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada where the wilderness is never very far away. We are so lucky.
Barry has taken me sailing on the ocean a number of times starting when I was only three months old. (I am nearly a year now.) Like all dogs I am a good swimmer but Barry insists I must wear a doggy life-jacket on his sailboat and be leashed to a responsible human. Something about hypothermia whatever that is. He says hypothermia can kill the unwary before they have a chance to drown! He told me the ocean is very cold where we live so I do not plan on jumping or falling overboard any time soon.
Barry told me a very sad but true story involving a dog. He was walking on a downtown sidewalk when a leashed dog leading a woman and traveling towards him suddenly went crazy apparently kind of like the way I do when I see him. He did not know the dog or its owner. As they drew nearer the dog went totally bananas jumping, howling, barking and pulling on the leash. Suddenly the owner started shouting at the dog “it’s not him, it’s not him”. It was all the owner could do to restrain the dog which was much bigger than us Westies.
As the two humans converged the owner explained that her husband had died some months before. It turned out that Barry looked just like him. Still mourning the loss, the dog had visually mistaken Barry for the lady’s late husband. This made Barry very sad as it did the poor dog and the lady. Anyone who thinks (incorrectly) that animals are not sentient beings should have been there that day.
Barry has a long history of loving dogs, cats, horses, donkeys, goats, sheep, llamas, alpacas in fact most all fauna. He told me that growing up, he wanted to be a veterinarian but life got in the way. I don’t know what he meant by that. Another true story he told me I found very touching. He was at a farm market called DeMille’s in Salmon Arm in the BC interior. Along with the market they have a children’s zoo with donkeys, llamas, ostriches, peacocks, horses, and many other animals and birds. Also a corn maze in the fall. A dog was stretched out and sleeping in the summer sun in the middle of a courtyard which was travelled by vehicles en-route to parking. Suddenly, a car being driven too fast and in reverse accelerated towards the middle of the courtyard. Barry realised that the careless and unthinking driver would probably not see the sleeping dog in his rearview mirror. A trained singer, Barry bellowed an incredibly loud and resonant warning, not to the driver but to the dog in an attempt to wake it.
By God Barry succeeded. The dog, a shepherd cross, leaped to it’s feet narrowly escaping being run over and most likely killed. It looked all around the circular courtyard then, without hesitation and ignoring all the other people, ran directly over to Barry who of course exchanged rejoicing hugs with it. We dogs have very acute hearing and the ability to accurately locate the direction from which sounds originate. Not having a dog at home due to lifestyle choices, Barry says if he could rent dogs by the hour he would do so. (At www.barrydevonald.com see his funny story ‘Rent an Anything’.) I think it is hilarious.
An only and he confided to me lonely child, Barry’s love of dogs goes back to his childhood. He also said and this surprised me, that he has been adamant ever since that it should be illegal for a family to have only one child. For sure I can’t imagine being an only puppy. He told me his first canine love was a neighbour’s wire haired fox terrier he met when he was four as a result of which he developed a fondness in particular for all terriers. His second doggy love apparently was a female Irish terrier called to no surprise, Bridie.
Barry is one quarter Irish and he also claims to be a Yorkshire terrier incarnate however that is another story and, he tells me, involves mushy peas whatever they are. Sounds disgusting. He was born in North Yorkshire, England near the Yorkshire Dales national park. His great grandfather on the Yorkist side of the family was involved in starting the Airedale terrier breed — the biggest of all terriers.
In addition to his Irish and Yorkist ancestry, Barry is also a quarter Welsh and hence of course loves Welsh terriers. Additionally he is a quarter Lancastrian — I am not making this up, we talk a lot on the trail. They must have been fresh out of stud terriers in Lancashire when opportunities arose. There are no Lancashire terriers.
Interestingly, Uncle Barry’s surname Devonald he told me is French via the Norman conquest of 1066. Norman must have been quite the operator to invade England. Barry has given me to understand that the surname is very rare worldwide even in France — as in about one in ten million. Hopefully (no pun intended) there are no poodle breeders in Barry’s gallic ancestry not withstanding that I do have two very close poodle friends. They live next door. Atypical I understand of most poodles, they are not in the least aloof.
I very much appreciate the emotional support and canine centric therapy (think squirrel watching) my uncle Barry provides for me periodically. I very much look forward to our walks. I like to think that my company offers him something in return. We can all use a little emotional support at times in the crazy and getting crazier world in which we live. I know this from watching CBC news when mom is out but don’t tell her. I always change the channel back to the dog sitting channel before she gets home.
I’ll end with another true story Barry told me. During his teens, a relative’s Lakeland terrier entered his life while it was still a very young puppy. With it he climbed Scafell Pike in the English Lake District, Cumbria at 978 metres (3209 feet) the highest mountain in England. On reaching the summit it refused to walk another step. He had to find a way to carry it in his small rucksack for the entire descent back almost to sea level during which time, it ate all his sandwiches!
An expat Brit, listening to him I can tell that my uncle Barry non the less is and has been for a very long time very much the Canadian citizen. Pity there is no Canadian terrier breed – YET!
Woof, woof.
