Dog Timeshare

Tess at Sandymount

The idea that I timeshare my dog is a puzzle to other owners. She was nearly re-donated at three months had it not been for the intervention of my neighbours, AKA Lara and Conor, who had two young children at the time. My very young CC#2 had been begging for a dog since he could speak. Every Christmas I bought him the cuddliest toy dog I could find. Until he turned eleven and the first inkling of his future reverse-psychological talent surfaced. ‘Mom, a dog would be good for all the family, I’d be quieter if I had a dog.’ It gave great pause for thought. Now, that is only ten years ago, as ancient as I sound talking about phone boxes in my last post, the best way to find a dog was through a tabloid called ‘Buy and Sell’. It involved going into an actual shop and buying the paper, which might have had nothing you wanted in it. I became adept at scanning it when I was looking for a car and memorising the seller’s number before tidily replacing it on the shelf. 

That is how we found Tess, a six-week-old cross of a border collie and unidentified handsome other. Her owner drove from Louth to deliver her and ensure she was going into a relatively safe home. She cost all of forty euro. She arrived during a particularly thundery September 2003. I had two schoolkids, I was in college and working, and every day I came home the kitchen was literally littered. It was too much on top of cooking and homework and I felt guilty leaving her alone all day. The last straw was when she ate one each of my favourite boots and shoes. By now, my neighbour’s children had taken a great interest in Tess. It isn’t a coincidence that it took me eleven years to give into CC#2 pleas, having a dog is a huge commitment. People are more amenable to you travelling or visiting with a baby, but not a dog. You can’t even take a dog on a DART or bus or taxi. 

When I told the neighbours I was going to find a new home for Tess (of the d’Urbervilles) they asked me not to do anything immediately and they would think about how they could help. That was the start of our formal timeshare. Tess didn’t have to be alone all day and their children had a dog to play with. By the following summer while I was away, we had organised taking turns when we travelled.  Also, by then I had taken the very difficult decision to have her neutered. CC#2 was not impressed and campaigned against it, ‘how would you feel if your mother did that to you?’ he demanded. Well I wouldn’t have him and his brother for a start. So that would have been awful I think I told him. 

The endless company and cosseting has all been to Tess’s benefit, we think. She spends six weeks in West Cork for her summer holidays with my neighbours, returning trimmer after her daily swim.  Lara has three children now; the youngest one took to sleeping with Tess in her dog basket.

The only thing about all this attention is that Tess doesn’t believe she’s a dog. She has no interest in other dogs and only wants to play with children. She can get into quite a sulk too. Lara was away for three weeks over Christmas, in Sydney (you see, if you stick with this long enough, it will make sense!) Tess wasn’t getting enough walks, was left alone in our boring house and had nobody to play with.  She summarily ignored them when they returned.

Lara and the children were visiting her husband in Sydney at Christmas. The lucky man had got citizenship when he first emigrated after college and at least had the option of going there when the construction industry truly buckled here. He is there a year now.  Though it means living apart for very long spells, it is better than being here in the gloom, but hard nonetheless. That’s the best way of looking at it. There are many other ways. And for the time being, Tess is still enjoying timeshare and blissfully unaware of the economy.