A Curly Tale

The Official Biography of Harry, Bichon Extraordinaire

Early Life

Some people have laboured under the misconception that Harry was a dog. He was in fact, a bichon frisé.While bichons frisés are technically of the canine persuasion, there are certain distinctions, about which Harry himself was always very clear. To name a few examples: dogs sleep in dog baskets and sit on the floor; bichons sit on sofas (preferably with several cushions) and sleep on (or in) their owners’ beds (graciously allowing room for the owners, unless they are exceptionally tired). Whereas dogs are expected to stay in kennels when their owners are away, bichons require a fully-staffed hotel.

The breed originated in the Mediterranean area, and is thought to be originally a cross between the poodle and the water spaniel. Bichons kept sailors company on board ship, as far back as the fourteenth century. They became popular in the French and Spanish courts of the sixteenth century. Unlike most French aristocrats, they survived the revolution and in Napoleonic times took part in more proletarian activities, such as leading the blind and accompanying organ grinders. 

According to Wikipedia: “the Bichon, due to its ancestry as a sailor's dog, has an affinity for, and enjoys, water and retrieving.” Harry must have lost touch with some of his roots, because he hated water in all its forms, and was useless at retrieving..

     

Our children had always wanted a dog, but we considered that we had enough trouble with the four of them. In any case, I was not a doglover, having had bad experiences as a child.So it wasn’t until Catherine was fifteen and the others had left home that we finally gave in. We were on holiday in France, where small dogs seemed to be common, and I began to think I might cope with a dog that didn’t grow higher than my knee. Catherine dragged me to a dog show, where we both fell in love with the small white fluffy bundles that we took to be poodle puppies. We had never heard of bichons, but the seller soon enlightened us. She couldn’t sell us one, however, because of the quarantine laws, so that was how we ended up at the home of a breeder in Peacehaven.

     

This was where Harry began life on November 16,1999. He was given the pedigree name Malacarne Contradiction. His father was a Crufts champion.

    

The ground floor of the breeder’s small house was entirely covered in newspaper, and was occupied by four adult dogs and sixteen puppies, all of which tried to climb on my knee as soon as I sat down. This was not the most comfortable situation for someone nervous of dogs, and I left the next visit to Tony and Catherine, who chose Harry from among the other puppies because of his insistence on climbing out of the box where they were all supposed to sleep. We collected him some weeks later, and he sat on my knee, shaking, all the way home. I think it was probably at that point that Harry came to believe he was an honorary human.

       

When we arrived home, it was evident that our two kittens did not share this opinion. Nutmeg and Humbug, who had not much experience of other animals, as they had not yet been out, both arched their backs and stared at Harry as if to say: “Blimey,you’re the weirdest cat we’ve ever seen!”

As Harry had French ancestors and I had just been reading about the French Jesuit Teilhard de Chardin I thought this might be a suitable name, but the family did not like the idea of having to shout: “Come, Teilhard!” in the park. I don’t know why. So we went Anglo-Saxon and local, and named him after King Harold of 1066 fame.

           

Harry had many admirable qualities, but courage was not among them. He was frightened of the cats and did a lot of squeaking and whimpering and hanging around my feet to be picked up before he and the kittens eventually developed a modus vivendi. In fact, Nutmeg, the beautiful ginger, black and white cat with the enormous fluffy tail, became Harry’s devoted companion. One day, I actually saw Harry come in through the cat flap with a leaf in his mouth, closely followed by Nutmeg with a leaf in hers. Perhaps she thought they were nest building together. If Harry had proposed marriage, I am sure Nutmeg would have accepted, but I am afraid her devotion was mostly one-sided. Harry put up with it patiently when she snuggled up to him on the bed, only occasionally growling if she disturbed his sleep.

     

This brings us to the delicate subject of Harry’s sex life, which is best dealt with briefly, and without too much detail. It suffices to say that Harry did not suffer from any qualms about his sexual orientation, which was towards anything on approximately four legs that moved (and quite a lot that didn't). After some embarrassing situations with crawling babies, we told Harry his teeth needed seeing to and hurried him off to the vet.

The second crisis in Harry’s life (after his introduction to cats) came when we put a collar on him. He did not like this, and spent a lot of time trying to get it off. When we attached a lead to it and tried to take him for walks, he simply sat on the pavement and refused to budge. I had to carry him down the street for some distance and then put him down, after which he would consent to walk home. It was around this time that Harry took an overdose of chewable dispirins that he found in the pocket of some clothes. The vet said there was nothing to be done, but that he would probably be all right, and after being sick all over our suitcases under the bed, and in other inconvenient places, he was. I am sure the overdose was an accident, though it did cross our minds that he might have phoned the Samaritans about the collar and lead, and been tipped over the edge when they told him he was a dog and he would have to get used to it.

Education

Catherine and her friend Hazel took Harry to dog-training classes, where he became the teacher’s pet, mainly by putting his head on one side and looking appealing, like a picture on an old-fashioned chocolate box. Those who knew Harry may find it hard to believe, but he did actually learn a few commands. He would usually “come” and “stay” when asked, though only after he’d finished what he was doing, and it suited his convenience. “Sit” he considered to be something you did for a few seconds, before getting up again.

Career

Harry’s face was his fortune, but he was in employment for some years. When I was doing hynotherapy, he was employed as my receptionist. Harry’s personality was ideally suited to

this work.When a client rang the bell he would bark enthusiatically and rush to the door. The only thing was, if I hadn’t picked him up before before opening the door, he would have jumped all over the client. Some clients no doubt thought I was a bit odd, coming to the door with a dog in my arms, but if didn’t allow Harry to come and see who was there he would scratch at the door of my consulting room throughout the entire session. Shutting him in another room just resulted in constant barking, not conducive to the peace and quiet needed for hypnotherapy. I had no choice but to take him with me to greet the clients, but this was mostly an advantage. Most people were very pleased to see him, and he helped them relax and feel at ease. 

They liked it when he greeted them with enthusiasm the following week. I suspect one or two of them actually came to see Harry rather than me.

Harry was also a great help in making our foreign students feel at home when they came to learn English. He was a companion who didn't make demands on their linguistic skills.

Interests

We were lucky to have several friends who were willing to look after Harry when we went away, and keep him in the style to which he was accustomed: Diana, Jocelyn, and Margaret and Chris Hilton, whose luxurious accommodation we referred to as the Hilton Hotel.

But when we went on holiday in our caravan, we usually took Harry with us. He didn’t particularly enjoy holidays though, because being on a caravan site meant he had to stay in the caravan or on the lead all the time. Those were the rules, and if we hadn’t kept them, you can be sure he would have ended up in other people’s caravans, especially at mealtimes. One aspect of holidays Harry did like, however,was bike rides. He took these seated in a Tesco shopping basket suspended from the handle bars of Tony’s bike. (We had a lot of comments about the things you can buy in Tesco’s these days.) In this position he received a lot of attention from passers by,and it was a good place from which to bark at alsations. It also ensured that he didn’t miss out on one of his favourite activities: visiting the pub. On holiday or at other times, when we stopped at a hostelry and got him down from the Tesco box or out of the car, he would strain on his lead and pull us indoors with indecent haste. Once inside, he scoured the floor for scraps of food.

Harry loved food of all descriptions, except perhaps dogfood, which was always a last resort. If he thought I was late getting dinner, he would follow me around the house, then sit staring at me and occasionally whining, until I went to the kitchen and started cooking. He often watched me cook, and then sat at the table watching us eat. We were indulgent, and he got lot of bits off our plates. It was only when everything was finished and cleared up that Harry would condescend to go and eat his dogfood. Last December, after Christmas, we took Harry with us to our annual family gathering at East Dene, a holiday centre on the Isle of Wight. On two occasions he disappeared and was found in the kitchen (embarrassingly, as it was out of bounds for dogs.) 

     

But Harry’s main interest was people. His most outstanding quality was friendliness. When we had visitors he was beside himself with excitement, and had to make several high-speed circuits round the house, out of the cat flap, round the garden and back indoors, ending up on the visitor’s knee. This was when he was a little older and more sedate. As a puppy, he was likely to climb on people’s shoulders and even their heads in his exuberance. It was impossible to let him off the lead in the park, because he would attach himself to anyone who happened to come along, and try to follow them home. Even in old age, Harry still sometimes managed a couple of circuits of the ground floor for visitors he was especially fond of, before collapsing in an exhausted heap.

     

This friendliness led to Harry having a wider social circle than I did, and when I took him for walks, it was not unusual for someone I didn’t know to greet my dog with: “Hello, Harry, I’ve seen you at the groomer’s, haven’t I?” or similar. Other people recognised him from our front window in Fern Road, from where he kept watch and barked at any people, dogs or bicycles that went by.

     

Towards the end of his life, though he had stopped responding to the doorbell, if someone he was especially fond of arrived, he would still get excited and manage to rush round in circles, before collapsing in an exhausted heap. Even in his last year, people would stop and make a fuss of him when out walking, and children’s faces would light up when they saw him coming along.

Last days

Fortunately Harry’s last illness was short. He had to be put down on 18 January 2014. It was a terrible decision, but we did not want him to continue in pain, facing extensive veterinary treatment, with little chance of recovery.

     

Having Harry around made people feel good, especially us, his owners. He kept us company, he helped us relax, and made us feel wanted. He made us laugh, and, in the end, he made us cry.

Harry enriched our lives, and he will be in our hearts forever.