Ollie stretched forward, took Dylan's head in his mouth and threw him across the room. Ollie cuffed him round the ear with a paw. 'A joke's a joke, now take him away.'ĭylan bit Ollie's leg again and bounced back. Ollie stepped out of his basket wearing another look you don't often see on a dog: contempt.ĭylan followed a glowering Ollie out of the basket, bit him on the leg, then bounced back into the much bigger dog's basket, expectantly. He demonstrated his happiness by getting into bed with Ollie, diving into him and play-boxing. You rarely see a look of disgust cross a dog's face (few things disgust an animal who devotes hours to licking his private parts), but Ollie treated me to such an expression.ĭylan, however, was delighted to meet the recluse. I put Dylan down next to Ollie's basket to see what would happen. I carried Dylan upstairs and advised Ollie that this was his new stepbrother and he'd better get used to it. When this proved too hard, he quietly removed the carpet from the bottom stair in preparation for tunnelling under the gate.Īfter a fortnight of no thaw in Ollie's Cold War stance, the time had come for direct action. He made repeated surreptitious attempts, using paws and teeth, to slip the lock on the gate to discover what was with this Ollie character. We installed a child's safety gate at the foot of the stairs to prevent him having the run of the whole house - flights of stairs are not recommended for pups. Other dog owners stopped to laugh some called their friends on their mobiles.ĭylan's energy grew. This was Dylan, with the addition of a pair of ears which flapped about as if they belonged to Dumbo.
I GOT 2 PHONES ONE NEEDS TO CHARGE DRAKE FULL
When you let it go, it flew off at full pelt and crashed into the nearest piece of furniture. When I was a boy I had a toy car you revved by repeatedly rolling the wheels on the floor to crank up the mechanism. On a path in the middle of some woods, I let him off the lead. I prepared his breakfast of porridge made with goat's milk and honey, with a raw egg every third day (breeder's instructions).ĭylan had huge energy, more than indoor ball games could expend, so I showed him the ropes by walking him alone. 'He's a bit weird.'Īfter a fortnight of Ollie ignoring Dylan, I was worried. 'That was your big brother,' I said to Dylan. He wasn't going to dignify this turn of events by coming down for a closer inspection. 'You're joking, aren't you?' he seemed to say, as he went back to his bed. Stephen decided Ollie needed a friend to help coax his neurotic pet into a normal existance 'Come see who we've got!' He managed to tiptoe to the top of the stairs. It was no different when his owners returned. He never stirred when the postman rang the bell or the door opened. Ollie, who increasingly modelled himself on Howard Hughes in a penthouse flat, lived in his basket in Trezza's office. His siblings watched from behind a wrought iron gate in the utility room as Dylan trembled, looking lost and lonely. In November 2006, Dylan - 12 weeks old, washed and shampooed - was ready to go. This was appropriate, given the dog's tuneless whining. The pup we selected was called Ghali (his kennel club name), but we decided he would be known as Dylan - after Bob. 'Are you fit people to own an animal from our noble lineage?' their expressions said. There were five or six Salukis at her house and it was as if the dogs were interviewing us. I switched to Saluki websites: that's how we came to visit Karen, a Saluki breeder. Like Kate Moss, they will put more or less anything into their bodies like Naomi Campbell, they are martyrs to unpredictable temperament. While everything must be five- star in their world, Salukis are not remotely fastidious.
They are also high maintenance, like a supermodel - the price to be paid for their beauty comes in ludicrous demands and selfishness. Salukis are of Bedouin origin and look a little like a greyhound, but have a quite different temperament. Ollie is a lurcher, a cross-breed - half-Saluki, half-greyhound. I needed a pup, someone Ollie could train in his ways. He had been abandoned in a forest aged eight weeks he might not appreciate a rival in the special-needs stakes. Looking at rescue centres on the internet, I quickly concluded that their animals might be even trickier than Ollie. Keeping two dogs, I thought, would surely be no more trouble than one. The more I looked at Ollie in his basket, filled with ennui and sighing, the more I was convinced. Man's best friends: Stephen Foster with his dogs Dylan and Ollie (right)
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