ChatterBank1 min ago
A Long Doggy Story
36 Answers
Please bear with me until I have finished posting this one
The most 'special' dog I have owned was Bosun, a 12½ stone Newfoundland dog, pure black, save a small white handprint on his chest. He had the kindest nature I have ever come across in any dog. On many an occasion I have rescued or saved lost/runaway dogs - put them in the car with Bosun - to reunite them with their owners by whatever means were necessary. I have even taken in 2 dogs whose owner suddenly had to go into a care home and kept them for 2 weeks before finding them a lovely new home together. Bosun was always happy to welcome any new 4-legs into his home and share his food, bowls and bed with them without ever raising a hackle. All he ever asked was to be made a fuss of. If anyone ignored him he felt hurt to his very soul. He truly was an incredible dog, majestic in both body and spirit.
If you don't know the breed then let me explain that Newfis are to water rescue what St Bernards are to mountain rescue. Newfi's are the No. 1 water dog - they are the only canine with fully webbed paws to assist them in becoming the fantastic swimmers they are. Their coat is double - try getting that dry with a normal hair dryer and you will be at the task all day and half the night.
The most 'special' dog I have owned was Bosun, a 12½ stone Newfoundland dog, pure black, save a small white handprint on his chest. He had the kindest nature I have ever come across in any dog. On many an occasion I have rescued or saved lost/runaway dogs - put them in the car with Bosun - to reunite them with their owners by whatever means were necessary. I have even taken in 2 dogs whose owner suddenly had to go into a care home and kept them for 2 weeks before finding them a lovely new home together. Bosun was always happy to welcome any new 4-legs into his home and share his food, bowls and bed with them without ever raising a hackle. All he ever asked was to be made a fuss of. If anyone ignored him he felt hurt to his very soul. He truly was an incredible dog, majestic in both body and spirit.
If you don't know the breed then let me explain that Newfis are to water rescue what St Bernards are to mountain rescue. Newfi's are the No. 1 water dog - they are the only canine with fully webbed paws to assist them in becoming the fantastic swimmers they are. Their coat is double - try getting that dry with a normal hair dryer and you will be at the task all day and half the night.
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The Newfoundland Club hold annual water championships where this very special breed will save drowning volunteers from a deep muddly lake, tow a rowing boat ashore and even save dolls (baby-sized dolls) from the water by carrying them carefully above water level to shore in their extremely soft mouths. The Newfi can also be deployed as a draught-pulling dog and some owners have beautifully constructed and painted carts which will take 1 or 2 children (whether or not they want to go - but they usually do).
The breed is also known as the Gentle Giant. Yeah right. Bosun was always so careful at home never to tread on any of the 7 cats or 2 two toy poodles I had rescued but seemed to go out of his way to tread on my feet. Thus the scene is set for yet another true Gilbert story.
Near to my home is Hengistbury Head - a beautiful nature area which is at the most eastern part of Bournemouth's beaches and is separated from the neighbouring town of Christchurch by an estuary of the Stour River. This sandstone Head is an important site and has various Bronze Age round barrows. There is also a bird reserve - fenced off from animals and walkers - and a small group of cattle. The Head is a most popular and attractive place for responsible dog walkers as their pets are allowed on the beach, across the Head, which rises to a view point, and on the edge of the Stour where there are areas of grass land. I have enjoyed many hours watching the skylarks hovering just above ground level to sink into their all but invisible nests, whilst the grey herons can often be seen fishing in the Stour. Watching the swans swim in formation up and down the Stour all seems perfectly right with the world.
The breed is also known as the Gentle Giant. Yeah right. Bosun was always so careful at home never to tread on any of the 7 cats or 2 two toy poodles I had rescued but seemed to go out of his way to tread on my feet. Thus the scene is set for yet another true Gilbert story.
Near to my home is Hengistbury Head - a beautiful nature area which is at the most eastern part of Bournemouth's beaches and is separated from the neighbouring town of Christchurch by an estuary of the Stour River. This sandstone Head is an important site and has various Bronze Age round barrows. There is also a bird reserve - fenced off from animals and walkers - and a small group of cattle. The Head is a most popular and attractive place for responsible dog walkers as their pets are allowed on the beach, across the Head, which rises to a view point, and on the edge of the Stour where there are areas of grass land. I have enjoyed many hours watching the skylarks hovering just above ground level to sink into their all but invisible nests, whilst the grey herons can often be seen fishing in the Stour. Watching the swans swim in formation up and down the Stour all seems perfectly right with the world.
Bosun loved to go to the Head - it always meant a lovely time splashing about in the water, a good, if short run along the grass, (Newfis are not renowned for terrific stamina when it comes to running - similar to this writer), the freedom to gambol with other dogs and always a ride back to the car park in the magnificent land (Noddy) trains. The council have several of these multi-wagonned (some covered and some open), wheeled trains pulled by tractor engines along a winding road through the Head to the furthermost Spit. We always had to get in to the rear open wagon for the journey back - Bosun would settle for nothing less. I could never drag him past the terminus at the very tip of the Head. He would always put the anchors on and sit looking very sorrowful at me. Weighing that much, he always got his wish too. One does not pick up an errant Newfi and carry him back to the car. The weekend drivers of these trains all knew Bosun by name and once made some passengers alight from the rear wagon to let Bosun take his rightful place, much to my sense of sheer delight!
So it was on a beautifully bright but windy Saturday morning in early May that I set off with Bosun to the Head. I decided on this particular day to walk him out on the river side - his favourite of the two options as it was a quicker way to get into the water. As my luck should have it the tide was well out in the estuary. The problem with that was the thick black mud was just lying there waiting for 'twinkle toes' to sink in to it up to his knees. But what the heck - he would always have a good swim in the sea at the Spit and most of the mud would come off to be replaced by sand - a lot of it - but that is why I always had a large estate car.
So it was on a beautifully bright but windy Saturday morning in early May that I set off with Bosun to the Head. I decided on this particular day to walk him out on the river side - his favourite of the two options as it was a quicker way to get into the water. As my luck should have it the tide was well out in the estuary. The problem with that was the thick black mud was just lying there waiting for 'twinkle toes' to sink in to it up to his knees. But what the heck - he would always have a good swim in the sea at the Spit and most of the mud would come off to be replaced by sand - a lot of it - but that is why I always had a large estate car.
As I said it was a chilly day with a very strong wind blowing and I was suitably dressed with wellies, jeans, thick jumper, windproof jacket and woolly hat pulled well down over the lugholes. We set off from the car park and as soon as it was safe to do so I let Bosun off his lead. He quickly disappeared over the rise and a few minutes later I heard the unmistakable sound of a small yacht being launched as he hit the water. As I climbed to the top of the rise Bosun was swimming back to the muddy estuary shore and I joined him in our walk along the winding way.
Watching this magnificent creature always made me feel very proud to be his owner. Newfis at the trott have a wonderful sailor's roll and Bosun made his way through the mud flicking up huge dollops of the black mire with every step. But he was happy. We met no-one else on the walk this particular morning, they were probably still at home enjoying coffee and newspapers.
Half way along this walk there is a piece of land which juts out in to the water and Bosun was now disappearing from my view. I called him and whistled (I can whistle as well as any man) but to no avail. Bosun was an obedient dog, most of the time, but the wind was carrying my calls straight behind me and Bosun heard none of it.
As I rounded this piece of land I suddenly saw this huge dog of mine dripping glutinous crude oil-like substance heading across the shore and he jumped a bank about 3 foot high and darted into the long reed beds. I was impressed by this show of pure athleticism but started to run as fast as I could to keep up with him. I never liked him to be out of my sight for long. I scrambled up the 3 foot bank and went about 10 foot into the reeds. By now I was sweating profusely and was extremely out of breath.
Watching this magnificent creature always made me feel very proud to be his owner. Newfis at the trott have a wonderful sailor's roll and Bosun made his way through the mud flicking up huge dollops of the black mire with every step. But he was happy. We met no-one else on the walk this particular morning, they were probably still at home enjoying coffee and newspapers.
Half way along this walk there is a piece of land which juts out in to the water and Bosun was now disappearing from my view. I called him and whistled (I can whistle as well as any man) but to no avail. Bosun was an obedient dog, most of the time, but the wind was carrying my calls straight behind me and Bosun heard none of it.
As I rounded this piece of land I suddenly saw this huge dog of mine dripping glutinous crude oil-like substance heading across the shore and he jumped a bank about 3 foot high and darted into the long reed beds. I was impressed by this show of pure athleticism but started to run as fast as I could to keep up with him. I never liked him to be out of my sight for long. I scrambled up the 3 foot bank and went about 10 foot into the reeds. By now I was sweating profusely and was extremely out of breath.
I shall take to my grave what I saw next.
Despite the strong chill wind I saw in front of me 2 elderly women (65 yrs+ I guessed) in their swimsuits sunbathing upon a white blanket checked with pastel shades.They were protected from the wind by the surrounding reeds and well hidden from passers-by, but not from Bosun who must have got their scent on the wind. Unfortunately the women had rolled the tops of their swimsuits down to waist level, no doubt to get an even tan, and were lying on their backs with their sun glasses on. I assumed their eyes were shut. Their spaniel ears were suprisingly more like elephant ears.
I called, nay screamed at Bosun to 'leave', 'Bosun come' and 'come away NOW' but neither he nor the old women could hear me, as once more the wind carried my words away from them. Bosun continued his fast march forward and, despite my whistling to a standard that would have shamed Roger Whittaker, Bosun arrived at the blanket and ran over the first woman who was wearing a white swimsuit.
Yes he ran over her, not jumped, but ran over her. The result of his actions reminded me of tractor tyre marks in virgin snow. How that woman did not have a fatal coronary in front of my very eyes I do not know. She got up very quickly and was screaming hysterically. Her companion soon got up too. The first woman was so upset and screaming she was jumping up and down. Remember her swimsuit top was down. Bosun seemed really excited and appeared to be hoping that she would kindly throw one or both 'balls' that she was juggling with for him to fetch. One went up and the other went down, and this process continued on an alternate basis. I, let alone poor Bosun, was becoming mesmerised by the movement.
Despite the strong chill wind I saw in front of me 2 elderly women (65 yrs+ I guessed) in their swimsuits sunbathing upon a white blanket checked with pastel shades.They were protected from the wind by the surrounding reeds and well hidden from passers-by, but not from Bosun who must have got their scent on the wind. Unfortunately the women had rolled the tops of their swimsuits down to waist level, no doubt to get an even tan, and were lying on their backs with their sun glasses on. I assumed their eyes were shut. Their spaniel ears were suprisingly more like elephant ears.
I called, nay screamed at Bosun to 'leave', 'Bosun come' and 'come away NOW' but neither he nor the old women could hear me, as once more the wind carried my words away from them. Bosun continued his fast march forward and, despite my whistling to a standard that would have shamed Roger Whittaker, Bosun arrived at the blanket and ran over the first woman who was wearing a white swimsuit.
Yes he ran over her, not jumped, but ran over her. The result of his actions reminded me of tractor tyre marks in virgin snow. How that woman did not have a fatal coronary in front of my very eyes I do not know. She got up very quickly and was screaming hysterically. Her companion soon got up too. The first woman was so upset and screaming she was jumping up and down. Remember her swimsuit top was down. Bosun seemed really excited and appeared to be hoping that she would kindly throw one or both 'balls' that she was juggling with for him to fetch. One went up and the other went down, and this process continued on an alternate basis. I, let alone poor Bosun, was becoming mesmerised by the movement.
I sensed real danger that Bosun was going to jump up and help himself to her 'balls' and so I jumped onto the middle of the blanket and tried to calm him down. Imagine a circus trainer in the middle of the ring as the tiger circles him. But there was no way Bosun was going to let me catch him, he was having too good a time. His huge tail was swishing from side to side and he was barking his most joyous bark. I think the women thought he was some sort of wild animal on the loose. God knows what they thought of me. I concentrated hard and continued to turn small circles on their blanket to keep me between them and Bosun all the while, and at the same time I was grinding the black mud off my wellies on to that poor blanket.
Eventually Bosun ran off for a short respite and I was able to turn my attention to the women who were beginning to quieten from screams to mere whimpers and tears of shock. It took every muscle and ounce of fibre I possessed not to laugh, smile nor smirk and I carefully and very slowly asked them if they were injured. They continued to whimper and cry but did at least pull their swimsuits back up. I heard a loud splash and then Bosun reappeared covered from head to toe in green algae this time - he had found a wide stagnant ditch nearby. You just cannot keep a Newfie out of anything wet. I said under my breath great, ruddy marvellous, thank you very much.
I managed to catch him, his energy level having thankfully subsided considerably by all the excitement. I secured him on his lead and stepped off the blanket. As I looked round everything had been well and truly trampled and covered with huge muddy paw and boot prints. The scene looked similar to the aftermath of a cattle stampede. Why did they have to have white beach bags and cushions too? I realised this was a serious situation.
Eventually Bosun ran off for a short respite and I was able to turn my attention to the women who were beginning to quieten from screams to mere whimpers and tears of shock. It took every muscle and ounce of fibre I possessed not to laugh, smile nor smirk and I carefully and very slowly asked them if they were injured. They continued to whimper and cry but did at least pull their swimsuits back up. I heard a loud splash and then Bosun reappeared covered from head to toe in green algae this time - he had found a wide stagnant ditch nearby. You just cannot keep a Newfie out of anything wet. I said under my breath great, ruddy marvellous, thank you very much.
I managed to catch him, his energy level having thankfully subsided considerably by all the excitement. I secured him on his lead and stepped off the blanket. As I looked round everything had been well and truly trampled and covered with huge muddy paw and boot prints. The scene looked similar to the aftermath of a cattle stampede. Why did they have to have white beach bags and cushions too? I realised this was a serious situation.
Again I asked the women if they were all right. I have never had looks like that off anyone throughout my whole life. The second women whispered to me 'go, just go'. I looked at the damage once more and asked if I could pay to clean or replace everything. Again the same woman uttered, slightly louder, 'go, and take THAT with you' pointing at my four-legged companion.
I couldn't believe my ears. I slowly dragged Bosun away from them backwards - him not me. He sported a rather upset expression as he wanted to play some more and couldn't understand why they hadn't made a fuss of him. Silently I begged him not to put the anchors on now, I was oh so desperately trying to appear that, at last, I had my dog under control.
We slid down the bank and marched about 100 yards up the shore.
Suddenly I could take no more and collapsed heavily on to the mud and pebbles totally devoid of any further self control. Bosun was happy to see me laughing once more. I was totally beside myself. It must have taken me 15 minutes before I could even consider lighting a cigarette.
After that, nothing daunted, we continued our walk to the Spit, got on the Noddy train, having anxiously perused that the 2 women were not on the same train, and went back to the car park. Driving home was difficult as my vision continued to blur every two minutes or so. Had the police stopped me I would not have blamed them.
We didn't return to Hengistbury Head for about 3 months - favouring the New Forest throughout our self-inflicted exile. Every day, Monday to Saturday, I scoured the local Echo and the weekly Advertiser waiting to see a report, or complaint, or police request for assistance with identification of the huge, black, wild beast and its even wilder owner. Nothing happened. There is a god I tell you.
It is fair to say that I have 'dined out' on this true story for years and my long gone and sadly missed Bosun has become a leg
I couldn't believe my ears. I slowly dragged Bosun away from them backwards - him not me. He sported a rather upset expression as he wanted to play some more and couldn't understand why they hadn't made a fuss of him. Silently I begged him not to put the anchors on now, I was oh so desperately trying to appear that, at last, I had my dog under control.
We slid down the bank and marched about 100 yards up the shore.
Suddenly I could take no more and collapsed heavily on to the mud and pebbles totally devoid of any further self control. Bosun was happy to see me laughing once more. I was totally beside myself. It must have taken me 15 minutes before I could even consider lighting a cigarette.
After that, nothing daunted, we continued our walk to the Spit, got on the Noddy train, having anxiously perused that the 2 women were not on the same train, and went back to the car park. Driving home was difficult as my vision continued to blur every two minutes or so. Had the police stopped me I would not have blamed them.
We didn't return to Hengistbury Head for about 3 months - favouring the New Forest throughout our self-inflicted exile. Every day, Monday to Saturday, I scoured the local Echo and the weekly Advertiser waiting to see a report, or complaint, or police request for assistance with identification of the huge, black, wild beast and its even wilder owner. Nothing happened. There is a god I tell you.
It is fair to say that I have 'dined out' on this true story for years and my long gone and sadly missed Bosun has become a leg
........ a legend to my many listeners/readers.
R.I.P. Bosun ♥♥♥
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hengistbury_Head
R.I.P. Bosun ♥♥♥
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hengistbury_Head
Fear of litigious action steff - worked for me ☺
There is another short story here - same dog, same location
http://www.theanswerb...s/Question936422.html
There is another short story here - same dog, same location
http://www.theanswerb...s/Question936422.html
Steff I have a scanner to set up and when done I will get a piccy or 2 of the 'Gentle Giant' for you to admire! I collected him from the breeder in Devon at exactly 8 weeks old, by which time he weighed 2 stone. A stone a month went on until 6 months when his growth spurt fortunately slowed down a bit. Never had a Newfi before and after he had gone I could never have compared him to another. He was definitely a one off. Small children would ride on his back and he loved every minute of attention he was given. I had the honoured pleasure of sharing 12 years with this magnificent dog.
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