Took Dylan over to Stoke-on Trent today to meet potential new companion, Cromwell, saved from ‘euthanasing’ at a Birmingham dog pound by ace online rescue operation greyhound gap. Jack and I met Cromwell on Boxing Day, nipping in for a quick look at him after the Man Utd game. He was a very winning dog, a typical Saluki looks-wise, and he seemed rather sweet and very characterful. He was being fostered by Hilary and John, a kind couple who had built his weight up by four or five kilos from the skinny state in which he had arrived (ribs sticking out), and who had also 3 rescues of their own, two whippet types and a bedlington terrier who had not-so-secret designs on doing away with Cromwell. Jack considered Cromwell ‘a legend’ and was hopeful he would join us.
However, it did not go so well: Dylan was in any event a bit circumspect about entering strange turf, the two dogs were wary of each other and to cut a long story short, Cromwell took advantage of an opportunity to give Dylan a streetwise nip on the arse, which caused a huge amount of crying on Dylan’s behalf, and that was effectively the end of a budding friendship which had not been budding too much to begin with.
A shame, but I was maybe rushing into it too soon, though both Trezza and I agree he could do with a new companion in the not too distant future. Cromwell will make someone an excellent pet, I think, but, much like the young Ollie, he will be a challenge and a project in the initial period. He is reckoned to be about eighteen months at present.
Dylan seems very pleased to be home in East Anglia: there are nasty rough boys out there in the badlands of S-o-T; the whole caper seems an unnecessary and dangerous waste of time from his point of view.
For myself, I am knackered, having been on the road three days out of the last five, twice to the midlands, once to West Ham, and am off to bed for a twelve hour shift to prep up for NYE.