release the hounds

Apparently if you leave the door of the bathroom cabinet open, then go and look for the puppy 10 minutes later, you will find him surrounded by pills, Valley of the Dolls-style. Those Neurofen child-proof lids don’t really do the job if you just chew straight through the bottle, you know.

Brenin is fine and we don’t think he ate any pills, but he had a lovely overnight stay at the university vet hospital and had the enjoyable experience of having his stomach pumped. He came home the next morning chirpy and a little bit lighter, much like our bank account. Probably because he didn’t have a headache.

Basso’s full name is AUST CH Rabacsy Rabacsy vd Kleinen Seen [IMP Germany]. If you can say it 5 times fast, you’re a better person than me. Or possibly German.

Basso is a Leonberger, a German breed known for temperament and size. Leonbergers are named for the town of Leonberg in Germany, and their colouring resembles that of the lion on the town crest. The Leonberger is an exceptional breed which combines an impressive appearance with a joyous love of life and a steady calm temperament around people and other dogs. Basso is no exception, and like many other Leos he has a deep and abiding passion for water.

After Basso’s show wins as a puppy in Europe, he has been shown in Australia. He has been shown to Australian Champion level and as such, gets to boss the rest of us around. Sure, Trent and I have a swag of degrees and qualifications. But are we Australian Champions? We are not. When he gets the chance, Basso also bosses around his owners, Karen Hindson and Jenny & Marshall Pardee.

Sadly, Basso died suddenly in his sleep on 22 December 2009, two weeks away from turning 8 years old. He was exactly how we always wanted our dogs to be: strong, happy, beautiful, calm and affectionate. He was a terrible guard dog (he loved visitors) and climbed the cat tree to play with the cats. He slept on his back and kicked the paint off the walls when dreaming. When shown a biscuit, he would do all his tricks at once: sit, bark with no sound, shake paws, shake with the other paw, shake with the first paw again just in case, drop, roll over and flail legs, scrabble back to a sitting position, and beg like a circus dog. He swam slowly and ponderously, like the Titanic, cutting silently through the water. He loved camping and riding in the back of the ute. He was a good dog.

A tennis ball! I got it I got it mine mine mine!

You took my tennis ball! Mine mine MINE!

Basso patrolling the side of the house.

What is happening? I can’t quite see over the fence …

Aha! I can almost see! Also I look like a kangaroo!

What is going on over there? Tell me! I MUST KNOW!

Basso with extremely dirty bone (May 2005)

Basso: three years old (January 2005)

I look all noble! But really I see a cat. (October 2004)

Basso as pack mule: he loved his Black Wolf pack and came on the George Gass Coastal Track, a 7km walk over cliffs and beaches.

Indi telling Basso secrets.

Playing with houseguest Saskia. I’m pretty sure the neighbours think we’re running a dogfighting ring.

I love the muddy Murray River! (March 2004)

I love my cat.

What are you looking at? This is a pure, unsullied, interspecies love. Move along.

Shaking off after a swim.

Listen to this one Tarni! This three legged dog walks into a bar, right? … he says, he says: “I’m looking for the man who shot my paw”.
AHAHAHAHAHAAAA!

Basso with Trent (November 2003)

Basso does not like the Doggles. Or the hat. You’re in Australia now! You cannot outrun sun protection!

So, you think you might want a Leonberger?
Look closely at this picture. Look VERY closely. See how dirty? See how happy? He would be in this state 24 hours a day if he were allowed.

I have a lemon!

I have an avocado!

Scout and Basso, camping on the Murray River near Echuca.

What’s that? You think it’s not right to dress up your pets in holiday-themed apparel? Hmmm. You might want to move along, then.

Keep moving! Keep moving!

Basso and Trent (far left) on the Million Paws Walk (Albert Park 2003)

Quarantine: Basso and Trent’s first meeting.

Quarantine: Basso and Jacqueline. 10 months old and he’s already as tall as me. How embarrassing.

Scout is a Bernese Mountain Dog, and our first dog. We are using him to practise on so that hopefully any further dogs will turn out better.

Scout is a fairly typical Bernese, and as can be expected, all visitors are greeted with a frantically waving tail and a volley of barks. In fact, Scout considers himself quite the watch dog, although often can’t be bothered to get up to see what he is barking at. He leaves that to his human minions.

Scout must know what you are doing at all times. It’s even better if he can have a paw touching you at all times. When he does this his paw shakes, leading us to think of him as an old-time preacher, proclaiming, “I cast thee OUT, demons! Begone from this host!” As we have never yet been infested by demons, we can only assume his technique works.

Scout also bears the dubious honour of The Most Expensive Bernese Mountain Dog in the World: one morning in 2006 he couldn’t get up. Turns out he had degenerative disc disease, in the spinal disc right above his shoulder blades, meaning he couldn’t move his front legs. He had surgery to fuse the disc (where we are secretly convinced they also gold-plated his spine, such was the cost) and the vets told us most dogs begin walking again in 8 weeks, if they’re ever going to walk again.

For six months, there was no visible improvement at all. Scout had physiotherapy every day and physio/swimming therapy every week, which he completely hated. His front legs remained rigid and the front paws curled under. The back legs showed reflex and he could use them, but only if someone carried his front half. He was far too heavy for me to do this for more than a few metres (even though he lost over 10 kilos) so by “someone”, I mean “Trent”. For six months, Trent took Scout wherever he went, carrying him everywhere, including walk/carrying him around multiple times during the day and night to go to the toilet. Scout whined and complained. Trent never did.

Finally, we thought we saw some movement in his front legs. Soon he could lie on his stomach with his head up off the floor (after being on his side for months). Eventually he was able to stand, then move his foot outward in a step, then very barely walk forward. Nine months after surgery, he could walk around for himself. Not quickly, and not gracefully, but he could finally eat whenever he wanted (which was always; we had to move Basso’s bowl off the floor again) and go to the toilet by himself, and go outside to have a look around whenever he wanted. He returned to his happy, annoying, insomniac self. He finally liked going to physio (after he established they weren’t going to put him in the hated pool). He amazed everyone, including himself.

We had another 18 months of a much slower Scouterdog, but he was just as happy. Scout was sadly put to sleep on 28 December 2007, after a sudden attack of bloat. This was something we could not fix and we could ask no more of him. He was a month short of 10 years old. He did good.

9 years old: November 2007

Trent with Scout and Basso

Sleeping in the grass

Oh hai i can walk now

In the water treadmill – this is how you walk, remember?

NO NO NO NO not the water again NOOOOOOO

STAIRS STAIRS STAIRS MUST REACH STAIRS

Baby elephant walk – back legs good, front legs bad

DO NOT WANT

Scout and Basso share a dog bed

Scout at 7.5 years old – October 2005

The quintessential Bernese pose.

Scout’s favourite place.

Scout at 6 years old – April 2004

For ME ???!!!?!

Mmmm. He is delicious.

Prepare to shake …

Where’s Trent? Is he home yet? I know YOU’RE here, but where’s Trent?

Ah, sleeping. What a great way to spend 10 hours.

Scout and Basso proudly displaying the wasteland they have so painstakingly created out of the back lawn.

Can you close the door on your way out? Thanks.

Scout in 1999 (1.5 years old)

Cats go well with dogs, we find. Of all the cats and dogs we’ve had, we’ve never had a cat who isn’t the boss. In our experience, the bigger the dog, the bigger the sook. This gives our cats a terrible sense of entitlement, of course, but I’m reliably informed cats have this anyway.

Domino

Domino is our newest cat. He’s horrible. No, he really is. He is a Cat’s Cat, and sometimes a Dog’s Cat. What he is not, is a People’s Cat. Sometimes he will actively hiss and swipe at you, if he’s feeling very energetic. Usually he just ignores you, or flattens his ears and runs away. Strangely, all his hate turns to love at night, when he will twine around your legs, purr, headbutt you and try to get under the duvet. This is a terrifying experience as he is liable to turn back into Evil Domino at any time, and suddenly he will bite or try to claw his way out of whatever situation he has (willingly) put himself in. Unfortunately for Domino, he is the softest cat we’ve ever had, with a pelt like an angora rabbit. This means we pick him up a lot. He loves Tosca and follows him everywhere. His favourite place to sleep is in the tiny cubbyhole of the cat tree, even though he’s too big for it and all his feet stick out the front.

Tosca

Tosca is a ranga, but that’s not his fault. He is also the most loving cat we’ve ever had. He makes up for all Domino’s indifference with a burning love that cannot be denied. Unfortunately his love is painful, as he kneads his object of desire with his sharp sharp claws. Tosca wants to be picked up, so he can crawl up your shoulder and around your neck. There, he will claw you repeatedly in an ecstasy of adoration, and also dribble if you’re lucky. Tosca will always come when you call, which makes a change from, oh, every single other individual in the house.

Phantom

Phantom was litter-brother to Tosca, and we got them both together. Unfortunately Phantom was an adventurous cat who was also accident-prone, and was hit by a car before he was a year old. Phantom was a sleek grey cat with a placid nature, who loved to be outside, watch the birds and play with the dog. Basso loved Phantom and would spend hours playing with him and licking his head. Phantom reciprocated by biting Basso hard on the face.

Tonto

Tonto was our original cat, brought to Melbourne from the mean streets of Rotorua. He started out as a tiny grey kitten with green eyes but somehow grew into a yellow-eyed tabby. We’re pretty sure goblins stole the kitten in the night, but were happy with his replacement. Tonto was extremely placid, tolerated all dogs, and loved being outside. We think he was part Maine Coon as he was truly gigantic. He was even longer than usual if you held him upside down so that he stretched down to the floor. Unfortunately Tonto disappeared after a huge storm in Melbourne, when he was 8 years old.

Jacqueline and Trent live in Melbourne, Australia, in a house which is constantly on the verge of almost being renovated. We live two blocks from the beach, which is good for swimming, walking and rolling in dead things (actually, only one of us does that). Currently we share the house with Brenin the Leonberger and two cats, Domino and Tosca. As of December 2010, we added AJ to the mix – Brenin acts as Chief Dirty Nappy Detector and the cats ignore her. Because they’re cats. Previously we lived in Prahran with Scout the Bernese Mountain Dog, Basso the Leonberger, and Tonto the cat. Our neighbours didn’t know we had two dogs, which we consider a crowning achievement and may add to our resumes.

You may remember us from such cities as Auckland, Christchurch, Whakatane, Rotorua or Melbourne. Or you may not remember us at all, due to our superb powers of disguise and uncanny abilities to stay one step ahead of the law. We’d like to tell you what we’ve been up to, but ASIO forbids it. Email us, and if you make it through our rigid security checks, we’ll dictate a note to our feline minion and get back to you. (Please note the minion does not have opposable thumbs and is currently asleep on a pile of clean washing. Delays may occur.)

Why yes I am covered in sawdust. Why do you ask?

Brenin is Welsh for “king”, which he seems to think very appropriate. His pedigree name is Adlihtam Legend of Zorro, and he was bred by Lyndsay Edwards via Saffy and Zorro. We had no plans for a puppy but once Lyndsay offered him to us after the loss of Basso, it was impossible to think of refusing. I have come to the conclusion that puppies must release some sort of pheremone making them impossible to resist. Trust me, I have a science degree.

Brenin was one of the smallest puppies in the litter, but soon applied himself to some steady eating. Without appearing overly interested in food, somehow over the course of a day we realise he has steadily put away breakfast, dinner, biscuits, milk and the odd chicken wing or six. Currently he is 9 months old, weighs 45kg and eats more at a sitting than Trent. (He was out-eating me months ago.) Not at all fat, he is putting all his energy into growing upwards rather than outwards. Brenin’s coat is just starting to wave, and I plan to lend him to L’Oreal so they can interpret his lovely red-gold colour into a hair dye. We’ll make a fortune.