Corgies and old ducks

Emma getting the checkout at the vet

Luca as a pup - not very happy

Luca as an adult - entitlement!

Emma as a pup.

Corgies have been described a little dogs with big hearts, big dogs in little dogs' bodies and a whole lot else besides, some of it much less flattering, for example German shepherds with their legs sawn off. Until about 7 years ago they were, to us, simply another breed of dog, beloved of Her Brittanic Majesty, but we had never known or owned one.

Our old Lab x Ridgeback x Bull Terrier was clearly nearing his final days and our little Alberton Pavement Special (APS), likewise. Both had been with us almost since the day we married and I knew that parting would be both hard and bitter. A colleague mentioned that she breeds Corgies and that one of her bitches had just had a litter. She showed me some pictures and I expressed interest in taking a pup. It was to be a surprise birthday present for herself, so it was just the two princesses and I who went around to the breeder's house to inspect the litter. As I recall there were 6 pups, a number of which were already bespoken. We fell in love with a little fellow called "King Kool" (all the pups' names started with K as it was the breeder's 11th Corgie litter) and he was described as a tri-colour with sable markings - evidently a little unusual and quite special. What did I know? - he just looked adorable to me and the princesses approved.

The day arrived for us to fetch him. By this stage it had been decided that his name would be Luca, not King Kool. I remember fetching him on a Sunday afternoon en route back from a church camp at Wortelgat, some 3 hours drive away from Fish Hoek, past Hermanus and Stanford. I brought him home in a borrowed travel-cage, with a half a bag of Pedigree (or was it Hill's? - something expensive, anyway) puppy chunks, his official papers, and a long list of instructions regarding how best to look after a Corgie puppy.

He received a tumultuous welcome from the management committee at home, including herself, who seemed very happy with the new arrival. The lab and the APS were non-plussed. The APS by then was almost blind and not a little senile so she just sat on her bed and snapped furiously whenever Luca was in the vicinity, walking past or whatever. Since she had only two teeth by then and they were not aligned, he was not in any danger. She was too old to initiate play with him and seemed immune to his overtures to come and have a roll on the carpet. The Lab tolerated him, being a Lab and therefore in theory good natured and tolerant, that is until Luca developed a liking for biting and gnawing on his tail about 2 inches from the base. It fitted into his mouth nicely and I can just imagine what those razor sharp needles felt like that close to paradise and the family jewels. The poor old fellow learnt to sing a few new songs in his last days, most of them in the soprano range.

One thing I do remember from those early days was that Luca's ears would not stand up. A Corgie puppy's ears do not stand up at birth, but should by 6 weeks be up and not down. He had one up and one down. I consulted the breeder who told me that what is often down is to tape foam plastic "inners" into the ears for a few weeks until they are right. We couldn't bear the thought of this poor puppy having to go around with fruit box wrapping material in his ears and put it off as long as we could - fortunately they corrected themselves.

The Lab and the APS shuffled off not long after that, from natural causes and we were left with just a boisterous Corgie puppy, or by this stage teenager I suppose. He was a fine looking dog - as he grew his collar darkened into a handsome black border for his snow white bib. Wherever we took him people stopped and fussed and said what a fine fellow he was. We did not, however, take him to puppy classes, socialization classes, obedience classes or any other classes of any description. Kind of like our approach to child rearing - lots of love and the rest sorts itself out. The result was that he was a little tiring on walks, straining at the lead a lot, and we often had to speak about three times before he obeyed the simplest of instructions - again, a bit like the kids.

Luca has developed some endearing habits. He likes to sleep on the floor, particularly the tiled bathroom floor - I guess Corgies "unders" can get quite hot with that thick coat - but before bed and in the morning he enjoys to come up for a cuddle, and his favourite position on the bed has always been sitting crossways across herself's lap, which makes book reading impossible and coffee drinking positively dangerous. He likes to chase a tennis ball and bring it back, but more than that he likes to wrestle you for it with his mouth, growling all the time. He is fiercely protective of herself and the princesses - if I or any other male so much as approach one of them he will attack without hesitation. This is good, but can get a bit much as he sometimes mistakes some loving gesture for aggression.

We have a LazyBoy recliner upstairs in the bedroom. Luca is fascinated with it - every time I sit in it he will run up the stairs regardless of where he is or what he is doing. Then as I kick back he charges in under the footrest to see what is underneath. Of course there never is anything. We have a theory that he thinks the boogie-dog lives there. Lastly, he is absolutely terrified of thunder and lightning, along with most Cape Town dogs. The slightest celestial perturbation and he is transformed from the brave protector of the household to a pathetic dithering wreck. It is often during the wee hours of the morning and he will climb on the bed and try and sit on my or herself's head, get under the blankets - anything to get away from those lights and that noise...

We decided against having him "done" - he was just such an obvious boy that we couldn't bear the thought of turning him into an it. One of the predictable but unfortunate results was that he retained his innate and presumably testosterone-driven aggression, being prepared to take on any dog, however lagre, without hesitation. This got him into trouble once or twice, most memorably when herself took him to the park and a large white Alsatian type simply rushed up to him and grabbed him by the neck. Again, I was away and herself had to sort it out. When I spoke to the breeder a while later she said she thought it has something to do with a Corgie's ears, which stick up and present an invitation to other dogs, as it were. About R1000 of vet's bills later, we still had Luca, but it was kind of touch and go. Added to the damage from the fight was the issue of muzzles and him not being very amenable to having his wound cleaned, drains stitched in or removed and just generally people taking liberties with his personage.

When Luca was about 6 months and again at around a year, we were persuaded by the breeder to take him to a dogshow. Bad move. The requirements were fairly simple - he was supposed to stand still on a table for long enough for the judge to have a good look at him and then he was to walk around the ring on a leash next to or behind his owner. The breeder said we could ensure his cooperation in the latter activity by tempting him with a bite of something which we could give to him when it was over. So herself walked round the ring with a piece of biltong in her hand cajoling Luca to walk nicely. The result resembled a schoolboy walking down the road doing tricks with his yo-yo - this small ball of brown fur on the end of a lead bouncing up and down trying to get at the biltong which he knew was in there somewhere and herself's face turning an ever deeper shade of crimson. No, he didn't win. I recall he came third - out of three. At the next show we let the breeder walk him but the result was not a whole lot better so we decided that shows were not for us and we would be content with simply being Corgie owners rather than Corgie showers.

And then came Emma!

Well, we couldn't bring up Luca as an only dog could we. Clearly he needed company, preferably female. So we went back to the breeder and asked her when the next litter was due - turned out there were pups expected on Christmas Day or thereabouts. Emma's mother is Luca's sister, making Emma his niece, I suppose. We went around in early January and selected our ball of fluff. A few weeks later we brought her home. Or herself and the princesses did - I think I was in East Africa at the time.

From the time she moved in, small as she was, it was clear who wore the pants around the house. She would present her face or shoulder or whatever to him for licking. If he failed to oblige she gave him hell, so he always obliged. If he stopped she gave him hell, so he just carried on. Every time they came to a door there was an argument about who should go through first, which she always won - she would run out yapping furiously with him in hot pursuit, also barking his head off. Five years later nothing has changed.

Emma nearly died in her tender years. She picked up some or other gut infection, had an episode of torrential diarrhoea and copious vomiting and between the time that we left home and about an hour later, went from being a normal puppy to being in extremis. Fortunately our boarder was around, saw her prostrated on the back step, called herself and they together rushed her through to the vet. She came through, but again it was close.

Unfortunately, her veterinary woes were not over. When she was about two years old, she started fitting - just out of the blue, although in retrospect we wondered whether it was perhaps related to some hypoxic episode around the time of the diarrhoea. Again I consulted the breeder who assured me that it wasn't "in the family", that maybe it was something in her diet, or that it might be related to one type of deworming medicine that vets use, which evidently accumulates in the brains of certain breeds of dogs and can cause fitting. Whatever, it happened several times and we had to agree to the vet putting her on an anticonvulsant - phenobarbitone. She was a bit of a zombie until the dose got sorted out, but it stopped the fits. The problem was that it increased her appetite and she started putting on weight. Three years later, despite us trying to restrict her diet and ensure sufficient exercise, she is a bit of a barrel, but we love her dearly and she has a lovely nature when she is not crapping Luca out.

Walking with Corgies is hazardous. Not that they are hazardous themselves - they are fairly good walkers. It is the comments one attracts. I don't think a walk goes by without a comment. Young, old, black, white, male, female - everyone has something to say about Corgies. The tragedy is they each think they are both original and funny. The other day an old ballie rode past on his bicycle and said in a loud voice, "You've got the Corgies: where's the Queen?" I said "On holiday." Well, what else do you say? On Saturday we walked to the local mall and as dogs are not allowed in, I waited outside while herself went in to draw money and buy some bread. I had no less than four people remark on the dogs. One was an old lady with a head scarf who looked like she had probably been a Second World War WASP sergeant major. When she spied the dogs she said "Oooh, Corgies. I used to have Corgies!" "Oh," I said, freaing the worst, "did you enjoy them?" "I loved them," she said, "very intelligent!" I agreed - they really are pretty bright most of the time. "Yours are too fat," she went on, "bad for their hearts you know..." I was about to launch into some explanation of Emma's epilepsy treatment and how it really wasn't her fault but the woman was already gone - she climbed into her little car, hooted loudly and irritably at a pedestrian and disappeared. Really must think up a good come-back for that comment - which I hear at least once a week. If I don't I am likely to come out with "... And your mother dressed you funny this morning!" which won't make me popular and may just get me either assaulted or arrested or both.