A Rottweiler in your 70s - S Jacobs An unsuspecting couple in the 70’s contacted me and assured me they weren’t going to die any time soon, they were fit, healthy and strong enough to control a Rottweiler. In a bold move, I was encouraged by a friend to introduce them to Woefles, a 60 kilogram male Rottweiler, with a head that can block out the sun. This dog was an escape artist at our kennels and needed a strong hand, I knew today would be a write off as this would be as good as suggesting Barbie shaver her hair off. I opened the door to let Woefles out and expected to be knocked off my feet as I usually am by him, and he didn’t come. “WOEFLES IS DEAD” went through my mind, or he has escaped and is eating a neighbours sheep or medium sized cow. I entered his camp and there in all his black and tan glory sat (yes sat –this is a very new concept for Woefles) he didn’t move, only a bit to shift his weight, and his mouth opened looking up into the sky with a smile like only Rottweiler’s can. They shrieked! “What an angel” said the old granny “my boy!” said the old man. Again Woefles didn’t move. At this stage I had considered that a taxidermist had used Woefles for their latest project and the kennel manager and I were stunned. Eventually, to check my own sanity, I went over to Woefles, he looked up and beamed. He looked at me as if to say “I’m going home today” and with behaviour like this he sure was. He could have been accepted into the marines with behaviour like this, heck Audi would have let his assemble an engine – he was incredible. I would have loved to have sent Woefles home with gramps after 4 other failed interviews, but the reality was – that wasn’t Woefles and once they got home the truth would be revealed. We put his chain on and I handed them the lead, in Woefle like fashion he pulled and tugged his potential owner around. I knew any minute false teeth or a dislocated hip would pop but Grampy pulled his arm and said “NO” - woefles listened. With a sigh of relief, we let them mingle and Woefles put on a show, he trotted with a perfect gate in a circular motion, rolled on his back – paused, lay their with his tongue out, got up again ran around again and then ran to his new master and sat. He leaned (as only these cattle dogs do) all his weight on gran and looked up, he looked at me and smiled. At this point there wasn’t a dry eye. “Can we take him?!” I squeeked “yes” as best I could. The back of the car was beautifully arranged with blankets, toys, chews, pillow and new collar. With a struggle we got him into the little corsa, loaded gran and gramps and before we looked again Woefles was on grans lamp, in the front seat – next to the review mirror. I have spent the last hour chatting to Magaret, a real lady, who has giggled and laughed, told me about the walk they have already completed, Woefles dinner of cottage pie, his best friend a collie (the irony in my life!) and their staffs reaction (they are all petrified) and the neighbours baffled reaction. I think if happiness every came in a bottle, it will be called homing a homeless dog. To Magaret and Dan – you have made my week with your laughter and kindness. This dog is a huge big animal but is a gentle giant in your shadow.
Posted on: Fri, 29 Aug 2014 17:15:34 +0000
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