Don McCarron
11-01-2002, 06:26 PM
I live on the edge of a small town in the North of England. From my window I can see the foothills of the Pennines. Barnsley is lovely round the edges but a little scruffy in the centre, the scruffiest place being the bus station. It was here that I first saw Tommy.
Staggering down the middle of the station between all the buses, apparently oblivious to the dangers around him, was a tall, sandy, wire-haired lurcher, I've never seen anything so thin and still alive. He seemed to be in a daze. Although I could hear sympathetic noises no-one was doing anything to help him. Of course I ran straight out to get him and he came with me without any trouble.
Once I got him home I knew it was important to get some nourishment into him as quickly as possible but not to overload his fragile system. At first he ate only a little and slept a lot. He didn't seem worried about where he was or what was going to happen to him. It was as if he'd been so badly treated he didn't expect anything of anyone.
He had no meat on his legs and couldn't lower himself to sit, he used to just fall over. After two or three days I put a lead on him to see if he could manage a short walk, we didn't get very far, only a few yards and then had to come home. I carried him most of the way back to the house.
Gradually, very gradually, over the following days Tommy improved. He had a long way to go but his spirit started to return along with the light in his eyes. I think he started to feel that he had a home and someone who cared for him. Our little staggers turned into little walks and he started to wag his tail when I got his lead out.
The whole village seemed to get behind the cause and Tommy became a real talking point. The lady in the post office would ask me for updates and kept everyone informed.
Gradually, very gradually Tommy grew stronger.
It seemed to take ages but one day I looked at him and thought, "That's as good as a dog can get." He was beautiful. Tall handsome, rippling with muscle and what an athlete! He could run like the wind and sailed over fences as if he could fly. In the evenings he would lie in front of the open fire and stare at me for hours. I don't believe a dog has ever looked at me with such love as Tommy did.
My task was complete and now I knew I had to home him. The problem was that I was sometimes out at work for twelve hours, Tommy was a young, vigorous dog and it simply wasn't fair to keep him. Of course I was determined that his next move would be to a home where he would be loved and cared for for the rest of his life.
I was still struggling with how to find a suitable home when Tommy made his move.
One day, very uncharacteristically, he decided to wander up the village and visit the lady in the post office on his own. Now, the post office is directly opposite a very pretty and very old cottage which is owned by a couple who are both surgeons at the local hospital. They had recently lost their beloved wolfhound and, seeing Tommy out on his own, took him across the lane to their lovely home to pamper him. They were in no hurry to let me know where he was but I found out and gave them a ring.
I knew the Waddingtons were looking for another wolfhound but crossed my fingers and mentioned that I was looking for a permanent home for him and, to my surprise, they leapt at the chance, such was Tommy's charm.
The rest is history. The Waddingtons, who own acres of land and horses, were always to be seen out with Tommy and were obviously as devoted to him as he was to them. I think if you could have asked him he would have said that he wanted for nothing. His life was perfect.
In time I left the village and I heard some years later that Tommy had passed away peacefully in his sleep. He'd reached a ripe old age and hadn't seemed to suffer any lasting damage from his early trauma.
Life is not an exact science and we all have our regrets, we all have things we wish we'd done differently but, in the case of Tommy, I feel satisfied that it all worked out perfectly.
He always brings a smile to my face and one day, who knows? I may even see him fly again.
Staggering down the middle of the station between all the buses, apparently oblivious to the dangers around him, was a tall, sandy, wire-haired lurcher, I've never seen anything so thin and still alive. He seemed to be in a daze. Although I could hear sympathetic noises no-one was doing anything to help him. Of course I ran straight out to get him and he came with me without any trouble.
Once I got him home I knew it was important to get some nourishment into him as quickly as possible but not to overload his fragile system. At first he ate only a little and slept a lot. He didn't seem worried about where he was or what was going to happen to him. It was as if he'd been so badly treated he didn't expect anything of anyone.
He had no meat on his legs and couldn't lower himself to sit, he used to just fall over. After two or three days I put a lead on him to see if he could manage a short walk, we didn't get very far, only a few yards and then had to come home. I carried him most of the way back to the house.
Gradually, very gradually, over the following days Tommy improved. He had a long way to go but his spirit started to return along with the light in his eyes. I think he started to feel that he had a home and someone who cared for him. Our little staggers turned into little walks and he started to wag his tail when I got his lead out.
The whole village seemed to get behind the cause and Tommy became a real talking point. The lady in the post office would ask me for updates and kept everyone informed.
Gradually, very gradually Tommy grew stronger.
It seemed to take ages but one day I looked at him and thought, "That's as good as a dog can get." He was beautiful. Tall handsome, rippling with muscle and what an athlete! He could run like the wind and sailed over fences as if he could fly. In the evenings he would lie in front of the open fire and stare at me for hours. I don't believe a dog has ever looked at me with such love as Tommy did.
My task was complete and now I knew I had to home him. The problem was that I was sometimes out at work for twelve hours, Tommy was a young, vigorous dog and it simply wasn't fair to keep him. Of course I was determined that his next move would be to a home where he would be loved and cared for for the rest of his life.
I was still struggling with how to find a suitable home when Tommy made his move.
One day, very uncharacteristically, he decided to wander up the village and visit the lady in the post office on his own. Now, the post office is directly opposite a very pretty and very old cottage which is owned by a couple who are both surgeons at the local hospital. They had recently lost their beloved wolfhound and, seeing Tommy out on his own, took him across the lane to their lovely home to pamper him. They were in no hurry to let me know where he was but I found out and gave them a ring.
I knew the Waddingtons were looking for another wolfhound but crossed my fingers and mentioned that I was looking for a permanent home for him and, to my surprise, they leapt at the chance, such was Tommy's charm.
The rest is history. The Waddingtons, who own acres of land and horses, were always to be seen out with Tommy and were obviously as devoted to him as he was to them. I think if you could have asked him he would have said that he wanted for nothing. His life was perfect.
In time I left the village and I heard some years later that Tommy had passed away peacefully in his sleep. He'd reached a ripe old age and hadn't seemed to suffer any lasting damage from his early trauma.
Life is not an exact science and we all have our regrets, we all have things we wish we'd done differently but, in the case of Tommy, I feel satisfied that it all worked out perfectly.
He always brings a smile to my face and one day, who knows? I may even see him fly again.