How Holly has changed

It's only a few weeks since Gravel died and I do miss having him about. However, the sense of loss is mitigated greatly by having Holly in the house and while it was a bit of a mistake to take on two dogs, it's been nice to have a 'spare'.

Holly is very different in character to Gravel, who always liked to be sitting next to you. Dogs are as diverse in their nature as people and Holly likes to have her own space; she's never been a knee sitter and it's interesting to see how she has changed now that she's the only dog in the house.

She and Gravel always got on quite well, although she was definitely top dog, and when we first got her, she learned a lot by watching him. Little things like holding a bone in her paws to chew it, swimming, crossing dykes and chasing pigeons were all new activities. I never thought I'd see a Springer Spaniel that didn't swim, but Holly didn't. It took a great deal of paddling and watching Gravel (who was half seal) before she took the plunge. I think falling through the thin ice on the Thorney River also helped.

Now Holly is totally at home in the water - lake, river or sea - as the picture (below) taken at Holkham Beach by Tom Rayner on 1 Jan, 2013 shows.

When Gravel was put down and we brought him home, I let Holly see and sniff the body. She was curious and wasn't obviously disturbed by Gravel's death. When we buried him, she took little interest in the excavation or the burial. She has had a good sniff around the grave from time to time and Margaret swears that she's respecting the ground by not walking across it. I said that was probably because there's a large pot filled with geraniums in the middle of the plot, but Margaret is convinced that she's treating it as hallowed ground.

The main thing I've noticed is that Holly is much more relaxed. There's no competitiveness and no jealously, so things happen more calmly. In the morning, I get up to make some tea and take Margaret and myself a cup upstairs to drink in bed. The dogs always slept in the kitchen, but were allowed upstairs in the morning for a fuss. They loved that (and the opportunity to get on a bed), so there was a batttle to be first through the kitchen door, get the inside track on the turn up the stairs, gallop upstairs three at a time and then the final turn into the bedroom. It was always a mad scramble and Gravel, who was slower than Holly, especially in the past year, would often use some cunning to get on the stairs first and then manage to baulk her to reach the landing in the lead. Now she's on her own, Holly is no less keen to get upstairs to wake Margaret with a good face-lick, but she trots through the door. It's as if she's going out for a jog, rather than the start of the 100 metres dash.

In the evening, we often used to be sitting on the sofas with a dog each at our side. If Gravel jumped off the sofa, Holly would jump up in his place. Now she's alone, she will sometimes sit next to Margaret for a short period, but prefers her own space on her own chair (which Margaret has created by putting a dog blanket on one of the armchairs). Sometimes I go across and give her a stroke, which she appreciates, but she won't come and sit next to me.

Holly is much calmer all round and this is also reflected in her feeding. She is now often turning down the chance to lick a plate, which she'd previously have done just because Gravel would. I put some scraps in her bowl and she came to have a look and then went back to the lounge to carry on her snooze. When we had the two dogs, I'd have shared out any scraps evenly and they would both have been waiting expectantly for whatever was being put down.

It's also much easier for Margaret to walk one dog, rather than two and also to allow Holly off the lead in the park. Previously, it would have been something of a struggle holding onto the pair of them. I could manage it, but it could be hard work, and Margaret suffered with a sore thumb when she tried. Also, in the park, Holly would play for hours with a ball, but Gravel would wander off, down a dyke, chasing pigeons and pretty soon you had no idea where he was. Now, Margaret can take Holly to the park, enjoy a game of fetch, walk round the edge to cool down and then (if they're both in the mood) do it all over again.

The other favourite trip is to come to the station in the evening to pick me up. Holly enjoys a trip in the car (all our Springers have been good travellers) and she is now often waiting at the station exit with Margaret. She's often being stroked by some strange chap (Holly, not Margaret) and rarely spots me until I'm out of the door. Another new treat is to park up at Car Haven and walk through town to the station to meet me. These are exciting and stimulating trips for a dog and when we get home, Holly often just jumps on her chair and goes to sleep.

I wouldn't want to say Holly is happier without Gravel, but she is certainly more relaxed and (well) happier.

My beautiful dog is dead

We had to have Gravel put down on Monday evening. It was the right thing to do, but it was still a very hard decision to take.

In this life, you’re lucky to be able to spend time with maybe half a dozen dogs. I came to dog ownership quite late (I was 41 when we got Jack) and I sometimes wish we’d had a dog earlier. They are wonderful creatures with so many great qualities and Gravel was one of the best.

We got him soon after Jack died. I missed having a dog so badly that I was keen to have another as soon as possible. I looked at a border collie rescue website but we couldn’t get one, I went to Wood Green but there was nothing suitable and then I saw a Springer Spaniel at a dog pound in Wisbech (Whizzy) and wanted him.

By the time Margaret had said yes (a couple of days) Whizzy had been rehomed, but I had decided we should have a Springer and I found one called Gravel on a rescue site. Gravel wasn’t getting on with another dog and his owner wanted to be rid of him. She lived in Weston-super-Mare in Somerset and it would have been a couple of weeks before I could get down there to collect him.

She wouldn’t wait that long, so I offered to meet her halfway and I first saw Gravel at Birmingham South service area on the M42. I’d driven down in Margaret’s car (a Ford Focus) and because I didn’t know what I was getting, I’d taken a cage and put Gravs in that to bring him home.

The woman I got him from had also rescued him. He was called George when she got him but she’d had a daughter called Georgina (George for short) so there was some confusion. George the dog was renamed Gravel, but the owner worked full time and I don’t think he was getting the exercise or attention that he needed and wasn’t happy. They got a second dog because they thought that two dogs would be company for each other, but of course, they were twice the trouble and I think they conspired to destroy the house and fight.

He went into my car as good as gold and sat there without a whimper all the way home. When we got him home, he ran all round the kitchen and lounge sniffing everything, drank a bowl of water and slopped it everywhere and then ran up and down the garden like a complete looney! We wondered what we had taken on.

Gravel arrived with few possessions - a hard rubber ball and a plastic rugby ball. We soon found out why. Jack used to treat his squeaky toys with much love, Gravel just tore his to pieces and ate them. It didn’t take him long to find toys that Jack had hidden around the garden and it was a battle to get to them and throw them away before Gravel added them to his diet.

It was clear that Gravel was a lovely natured dog, but looking back, he was quite nervous in his new surroundings and there was a little odd behaviour; in particular, sitting on the table. We’d go out with him sitting happily in his basket and come back to find him sitting on the kitchen table. He jumped down immediately when told, but it was a really odd thing to do and (thankfully) he soon stopped getting onto the kitchen table, although until he died, he liked nothing more than to lie on the table on the patio.

After a muddy walk across the fen, a hosing down is needed

Gravel showed no aggression towards other dogs whatsoever and (unlike Jack) he loved people. He greeted everyone with a waggy tail, he expected everyone to love him, which they generally did. His waggy tail was hilarious. Like many Springers, his tail had been docked but he wagged it with a vigour that took over his whole body. This was a dog that shook his booty! When he heard someone coming, it would twitch a couple of times, then wag and stop before it went up to full speed. It was very expressive.

Gravel was a show-type Springer, a little larger than a working Springers and a bigger dog than Jack, who was Border Collie/Labrador cross. Despite his size, he was a lapdog at heart and loved to sit on your knee or on the chair leaning against you.

Max was at Nottingham university when we got Gravel. He had come with me when we had to have Jack put down and it was a pretty traumatic experience for the both of us; so when we got a new dog, he was very keen to see it and came home with new girlfriend Inna (now his wife, of course). Gravel and Max bonded immediately - we said it was because they were both daft youths. Gravel got a mention in Max’s wedding speech, which shows what a big part of the family he was.

There are a few things about Springer Spaniels that everyone should be warned about before getting one.

1. They love to swim, especially in dirty, muddy water.
2. They don’t always come back when you want them to. They generally come back in the end (but not always).
3. They will chase, catch (if they can) and eat anything with feathers on. Rabbits are also fair game.
4. They are always hungry and will eat anything.

I don’t think Gravel had been exercised very much. When we got him his pads were pink and after our first long walk, he came back and was twitching his paws - I think his pads were humming. They soon hardened to a dusty, crusty grey. He didn’t need any swimming lessons. If he saw water, he’d be straight in and he was a really strong swimmer. If the water was clear, he’d put his head under to have a look at the bottom (I’d never seen a dog do that before).

He’s plunged into fast-flowing rivers and into deep lakes. On one walk in Rutland, he set off after some swans across this large lake and only gave up and came back after much frantic recall whistling. He must have been 150 yards into the lake (and it was freezing).

If the water was not deep enough, he was happy to plunge and paddle. Muddy dirty dykes in the fens were a speciality and he’d often choose to paddle along the bottom of the dyke, while I walked alongside. He never worried about the cold, it was heat that he disliked, and he was quite happy to run along a dyke cracking the ice with each step.

Spaniels have webbed toes like wolves, who have the adaptation to stop them sinking into snow. For Spaniels, it means they effectively have little flippers when they swim, so they can crack along at a fair pace.

Recall seems to be a problem with all Springers. It seems to me that their nose is the dominant sensory organ and once they get an interesting scent, they focus on that to the extent that all other thoughts go out of their head. Gravel never got lost, but there were times when I didn’t know where he was and when my walks lasted longer than anticipated. More often, we’d walk him on an extended lead with a horse’s lunge line to make it even longer, so he could have a good run. I worked hard at recall training in the early years, but we got him when he was three years old and I think the bad habits were too ingrained. Whistles and treats often worked, but not always. We tried dog training classes, which were good fun, but ineffective as far as recall was concerned. One day I went into the gun shop in Whittlesey to look for some new wellies and I saw a DVD on how to train your Springer Spaniel. It was £28 and I was weighing up whether it would be worthwhile when another customer saw me. He asked if I had a Springer and I said I did. He nodded sympathetically and said I should have got a labrador. “You know the old saying,” he said. “Labradors are born half-trained, Springer Spaniels die half-trained.”

Our walks were generally across fenland and, depending on nesting birds (skylarks and lapwings) I’d give him a run. We also let him off by the seaside where he would chase seagulls all day and generally also find a dead seal washed up on the beach.

The worse problem with recall was if he’d caught something. Gravel would have been top of Springer Spaniel school for springing game, but bottom when it came to retrieval. Sometimes he’d catch something, generally a pigeon, but also the odd rabbit and once (infamously) a chicken from the farm at Toneham. He’d get the unfortunate quarry and not want to give it up (or come back to you in case you took it off him). In later years, I was able to train him to stay and therefore get back to him and put him on the lead.

One of the first times I walked him, I let him off in the cow field (no cows) and he caught a dozy rabbit. He was very pleased with himself but wouldn’t come back to me. I could get to 20 feet from him as he settled down to dismember the creature, but then he upped and ran off. I tried everything - calling him back, walking away, ignoring him and finally, in frustration, chased him around the field, through the hedge and into the next field before he was caught. I think it was only because it was getting dark and he wanted his dinner that he gave up.

Another time, Margaret and I were in the park and there were a few pigeons around on the grass. Gravel set off after one and it took off immediately. We both said “stupid dog thinks it can catch a pigeon”. Gravel knew better - the pigeon flew low and settled in a conifer with Gravel in pursuit; he charged into the tree, shook the pigeon off its perch and it dropped pretty much straight into his open mouth. That was great amusement, but then followed a replay of the rabbit incident. This time we got him back when I threw his lead at him, he dropped he pigeon and ran off and I managed to get to the pigeon before he did. Once I had the pigeon, the rest was easy!

I will say nothing about the chicken incident; it is well documented and still something of a blot. Needless to say, the posh London couple that bought the farmhouse at Toneham, gave up their free-range chicken flock soon afterwards. I’m just grateful that Margaret wasn’t on that walk.

Gravel loved the seaside. Wide Norfolk beaches, he was not too fond of swimming in the sea (it didn’t taste right) but always lots of seagulls to chase near the shoreline. At Hunstanton one winter’s day, we had a six or eight-mile walk and Gravel must have run a marathon distance. We thought he’d have to tire, but he didn’t; not as long as there was a flock of seagulls to be scattered. We thought he’d be pooped and he did sit good in the car on the way home. When we got home, he went into the back garden, dived through the hedge into the field and caught a pigeon.

Apart from his really nice nature, we’ll remember Gravel as a true trencherman. He loved his food and looked forward to breakfast and dinner. He would eat anything and, although he wasn’t too fond of tomatoes, raw onion or lettuce, he’d give it a go. No left-overs are wasted when you have a Springer Spaniel in the house.

Despite his love of food, he wasn’t a committed thief and dishes left on the worksurfaces were generally pretty safe. Holly, our other Springer, will take whatever is within range but Gravel was generally happy to wait until a taste was offered. The one occasion where I remember him turning to crime was a pre-Christmas dinner at Sam and Lucy’s where Lucy had made a massive chocolate-covered Yule log. It was sitting at the centre of the table and we were enjoying a pre-meal chat when someone noticed Gravel, paws on table, licking the end of the log.

Apart from food and chasing anything with feathers, his other love was getting upstairs onto the bed. We let the dogs up each morning and if Gravel found the hall door open, he’d often sneak upstairs and be found stretched out on our bed looking very happy indeed.

Gravel was in great health up to this year. We’d noticed him putting on weight and his belly getting swollen. After a few visits, the vets diagnosed a large tumor and he had a major operation in March. The tumor had weighed around 3kg, so it was as if he’d been carrying a baby inside him. The biopsy showed it was an aggressive, malignant growth that would be likely to return, but once Gravel had recovered from the operation, he was back to his old self and full of life.

He had a wonderful summer, it was one full of happiness for all of us; he was christened Gravito by Tom’s girlfriend Lucia and was taught a number of commands in Spanish which he mastered extremely quickly.

Sadly, in the past week, we’d noticed his belly was swelling again. There wouldn’t be another life-prolonging operation. He was still happy, but not moving as comfortably as he should and when Margaret took him for a walk on Monday and he was looking to turn around and come home, we knew that the game was up. The dog who could run a marathon and still catch a pigeon was now unable to make it to the park.

The vet confirmed what we already knew. The cancer had entered his liver and there was nothing to be done. He was still wagging his tail until the last. He jumped into the car expecting to go home and the vet administered the lethal dose of anaesthetic in there. He was dead in less than 30 seconds. I’m pleased he didn’t suffer, but devastated to be without him.

We brought him home, wrapped him in a blanket and curled him up in his basket, limp and lifeless but looking for all the world as if he was asleep. On Tuesday morning Margaret and I dug his grave in the garden in a spot where he would spend hours looking into my sister (auntie’s) garden for cats or pigeons to bark at. We buried him in his basket, still curled up with two squeaky toys and a half-eaten bone as his grave goods. Before we put him in the grave, I lifted the blanket for one last stroke of his beautiful soft head, then covered him up and said a last goodbye.

Adios Gravito. You were a beautiful dog; it was a privilege to have spent six years with you. I wish it could have been more.

Gravel loved to be on the patio table!

That final happy summer ... with Lucia Rojas

Gravel desperately ill

Gravel in the sea at new year

Our plans for a holiday in the French Alps with Sam and Lucy were somewhat disrupted by dint of Gravel being unwell.

He and Holly were booked into kennels for the week, but in the days before we were due to leave it was clear that Gravel was not right. He had no energy and was very lethargic - not at all like a springer spaniel.

I’d noticed some swelling of his belly and also a distrinct lump. The vet had suggested it might be Cushing’s disease, a condition caused by a hormone imbalance where the symptoms included distended belly. This would be confirmed by a blood test.

We decided that Margaret should stay at home but I would go skiing.

Gravel had his blood tests on the Monday I was away and we then had to wait a few days before confirmation and starting treatment. The test for Cushing’s came back negative, which was a surprise as the vet had made a strong suggestion that was the problem and we were expecting the blood test to confirm it. She then suggested it could be a thyroid problem and suggested tests to look for hyperthyroidism. Two tests were done and showed that Gravel may have a slight imbalance - sub-clinical hyperthyroidism. She started him on some medicine on the Friday that I was away and Margaret said he seemed a little better.

We got home about 6pm on the Saturday and Gravel was very excited to see us. However, it was clear to me that he wasn’t right and when I felt his belly, the lump that I’d detected in the week before we went away, was clearly much bigger. It was quite a chilling discovery.

Sam examined him and thought the lump was about the size of a grapefruit - a considerable mass. We clearly had to get him back to the vet and see what could be done. Frankly, I feared the worse. This was a massive lump, growing aggressively and would require a major operation to remove it.

Margaret took him to the vet on Monday armed with extensive notes from Sam and the vet was alarmed by the size of the lump and that she’d not spotted it earlier. She clearly hadn’t examined him properly, she’d taken a look at him, listened to the symptoms and jumped to the wrong conclusion - Cushings.

The problem was now beyond the skills or technology of Whittlesey and so they asked Margaret to take him to their practice in Broadway, Peterborough where an ultra-sound scan showed a massive tumour surrounding the spleen. An X-ray suggested that it hadn’t spread to other organs and the vet thought it could be removed (along with the spleen) with a positive outcome for Gravs. We gave the go-ahead on the basis that if he opened him up and found that it was hopeless, he should simply not let him wake up. He’d operate immediately because he was concerned that the tumour might rupture.

So we had an anxious wait on Monday until the vet called to say that the operation had gone OK and Gravel was still with us. We’d see how he got through the night and the following day, so more anxious waiting. Gravel got through Tuesday OK and was making good progress, so they said he could come home Wednesday evening.

It was good to see him. He looked incredibly thin compared to how he was, with his belly gone and a really defined waist. The vet told us that the tumour has weighed 3.4kg, which is the size of a baby, so it was hardly surprising that Gravel looked so slim. I asked how it could possibly be that big and the vet said that it had been growing backwards into his belly, causing that to swell outwards, but also up into his rib-cage where it couldn’t be felt.

Gravel came home, trotted into the garden and did a one-minute wee. He then went down to the bottom of the lawn and did a huge dump! The good news is that he’s definitely not lost his appetite, he seems to be a little better each day and last night, he even humped my leg when I came home - his favourite greeting (and not one that I encourage). His scar is massive - from the middle of his chest, straight down to past his sheath.

He’s back at the vet this morning for a check-up so we’re hoping all is OK (it certainly appears so). The next issue will be whether the tumour was malignant or benign. If benign, then there’s every chance he’ll survive another four years or so (he’s nine this year) and can have a full, happy and active life.

Treatment, including the misdiagnosed hyperthyroidism, came to £2,500. Luckily, we have pet insurance to cover that, but my premiums (currently £27 per month) are bound to increase substantially.

UPDATE: Gravel went back to the vet today (Friday) for a check-up following the operation and we got the results of the lab tests on the tumour. Sadly, it was malignant and so the long-term outlook isn’t great. They’re doing some more tests to see what type of cancer they’re dealing with and that may give us an insight into life expectancy.

It’s a disappointment after all he’s been through this week, but there was every likelihood of losing him on Monday, so I guess every day is a bonus. I hope he can have a happy summer, he really is a lovely natured dog. Of course, none of us know when the trapdoor will open underneath our feet/paws and dogs probably have the right attitude - live one day at a time and enjoy it as much as you can. That’s what we’ll be doing with Gravel.

Gravel and Holly having a good sniff in the garden. This was his first day back home

Cosy Dog

Gravel had a muddy walk across the fen to Knarr Fen Road. He was so dirty, he had to have a bath, but was shivering afterwards, so Margaret wrapped him up.

Stupid dog

Gravel and Holly have both been suffering from kennel cough, so we've cut them a bit of slack. However, Gravel has decided that it would be nice to sunbathe on the patio table ... I don't think so.


However, he could be the centrepiece of a Korean al fresco banquet.