Snoodles

Lambs are surely the most innocent, innocuous and gentle of all creatures - hence the name of the blog.
I have learned most from those with pure hearts - most animals, little children and, of course, the Lamb of God.

The site is dedicated to Snoodles, one of the most pure in heart I have had the pleasure of knowing.

 

Shay aka Snoodles and Snoods,

you were the first to show me that one can learn much from lambs, ewes and even rams, and all those others with innocent hearts - cats, birds, horses , cows and fish.

But first, let’s talk about you.

Your mother was an uptown standard poodle who fell in love with a working dog, a bearded collie.  Your mother’s human companion was outraged and consigned your siblings to the care of the SPCA. Someone saw the black bundle of fun and took you home. Her husband was outraged – a POODLE! Not a bloke’s dog! You had to go – immediately!

Just when you were about to be consigned to the SPCA for the second time, a friend told me about you. I went, I saw and I was conquered. For the SPCA price tag, you were surrendered to me.

Three shiny black dots at one end and an enthusiastic pompom at the other end of a ball of curly black fluff distinguished front from back as you crouched in the prison cage.

As soon as you were released, despite earlier rejection and abuse, you exploded into my life with undiminished joy, optimism and love. That never changed throughout the remaining five years of your life.

The two lambs I was raising were a surprise to you – as white as you were black. Your play was a bit rough, but they got their own back when they were larger and could butt you, rolling you over in turn.

When you were old enough you had to be ‘fixed’ since you were a rescue dog and that was the deal, so you never had pups. But you did a good job of helping me raise orphan lambs, washing them, keeping them warm at night as they snuggled up to you and playing with them during the day and giving them the love they so needed.

You were the same with the kittens I rescued. You loved everything and everyone. Even TV! Well, the Dr Harry show and Tux Wonderdogs – I made sure to switch on for you so that, summonsed by the theme tunes, you could ensconce yourself in front of the large screen and interact with the other animals, licking the little ducklings and kittens and barking back at the working dogs.

You were the smartest dog I’ve ever known and were housetrained the first day I got you. It just took rushing you outside when you squatted and then much praising and patting when you ‘went’. That was all it took!

Jumping came naturally too. I noted how you jumped every obstacle even as a tiny pup, and when I held up a stick to see what you’d do, you sailed over it. “Over” got you over legs, tree stumps, streams, chairs – anything and everything. Children loved this and you never tired of making them laugh at your antics, upping the action as you were urged on by their joy.

A trip to the beach was pure fun – you’d run and run and run, chasing sticks; swimming and surfing through any type of sea (eat your heart out Lotto’s Wilson, Snoods did it first!) to retrieve said sticks; then, want to start all over again once we got home.

You loved horses too – greeted them with a kiss on the muzzle as you did the sheep – and ran with them when we rode out to enjoy forest and beach. You probably did double the distance of horse and rider as you chased possums and rabbits, your sworn and only foes. You were a merciful executioner, though, killing instantly with one bite and a shake. Strange that you did have the killer instinct even though you never ate your prey and never extended your enmity to any other creatures. Did you know they were fair game while everything else wasn’t?

Indeed, Snoods, you were absolutely the funnest, jumpingest, swimmingest, runningest, lovingest, joyfulest, optimisticest, forgivingest, kindest and smartest dog ever!

So, how could anyone have imagined you’d harm their stock?

One neighbour did – offering dire, unasked for predictions of how you would cost us our home and land us in hot water with the authorities.

He was convinced you would bother his cattle, the one animal you ignored, or join up with other dogs and kill someone else’s sheep.

Your other ‘est ‘thing, the diggy one, sadly, was to prove your downfall.

Remember how uou roamed the area disposing of rabbits, much to the delight of most, but not that one? And, how, on his property, you excavated a whole warren, leaving caves that a man could fit into. Of course the rabbits were all gone, but you had dug on his property. “His cattle might crash through the sandy ground into the caves and be injured, blah, blah, blahity blah”.

Outraged, he complained and warned again.

If only you hadn’t been the diggingest dog too, you would still be with me. But, tragically, a bullet ended your digging and everything else.

Of course, I don’t believe you’re dead, not the essential you. That lives on in my treasured memories. And then there is that wonderful Nordic legend.

It tells of a beautiful meadow just outside the pearly gates where friends like you run free and happy until one day a familiar scent catches your attention. You prick up your ears and follow your nose. There you meet with your human companion and after an ecstatic reunion, together (in my case we will be several) we pass through those wonderful gates into paradise where there are no more goodbyes.

So, we’ll meet again one sunny day, my wonderfulest dog.