Our Best Friends ( VILLAGE TALES EP. 44 )

Animals can be our best friends, they can also create chaos, 

and destroy relationships.

As you know the Old Mill was the home of Lucy and Mark Musgrave. After they met with their accidents it was some time before the mill was sold due to the bizarre nature of their deaths and the reputation that the mill had that it was haunted. Several couples pulled out and it is presumed because of the mill’s history. It was eventually bought by Taylor and Barbara Bradford who I met when the mill developed a series of on-going calamities, now fortunately in the past. Taylor was someone important in the music industry and although I had met them, most of the villager’s introduction to the Bradfords came by way of their two Cockers, Joe and Jarvis, presumably named after the singers. Animals had not been kept at the mill for some time. Previous to the Musgraves the Morrisons had no pets and they had been at the mill for as long as anyone could remember. The sprawling garden and orchard that ran alongside the mill stream had nothing to keep the two dogs in consequently Joe and Jarvis Cocker were free to roam the gardens, as well the rest of the village. They were a pair typical enthusiastic, full of energy, friendly Working Cockers. Our village is hardly sited on a main thoroughfare but there is still more than enough traffic and so the screeching of brakes became a regular occurrence whenever the Bradfords were in residence. While they were abroad the dogs were in kennels, when back at home they seemed to have missed everyone so they were more than keen to renew old acquaintances. The feeling began to be expressed that it was just a matter of time before either Joe or Jarvis were injured or worse. Some thought that more animals should be encouraged to frequent the road in the hope it would slow down any traffic to a walking pace, but it was thought the pet owners, with one or two exceptions, might find that unacceptable. 

What alarmed me one evening in the Old Drum was overhearing several well oiled regulars discussing the likelihood of an accident, which dog it might be and how soon. Matters were not improved when I heard that Dave was running a book on, firstly how long before one of them was hit, apparently the seriousness of the accident was a bridge too far, so any provable collision was deemed satisfactory, and secondly which one. The odds-on favourite was Jarvis and within the week. I thought it in particularly bad taste and I wasn’t sure it excused it when Dave told me it was for charity, and ironically the PDSA. Some punters had already had their bets expire having gambled that one or either would have been in an accident and time had run out. They were permitted another bet but must stick to the same dog. The bets on time would pay out like a sweep-steak, the closest date sweeping half of the money bet to that date on that dog. The bets on the dogs were about six to four, as there was only two running.There was a lobby headed by Liz Wintern who thought the affair disgraceful and approached the Bradfords to ask them if they could exercise more control over their animals before they were hurt. What brought the ‘book’ to a close was that it was noticed that one or two of those who were betting were travelling the high street more regularly than usual. The suspicion was - in an attempt to tip the odds in their favour. Dave claimed it was sharp practice and closed the book, announcing that bets would be returned if hardship could be proven, otherwise it would all go to charity. Dave knew that no one would admit to being so hard up that they needed the few pounds that they’d bet, so it was a dead certain there’d be no takers. 

‘Besides,’ he told me, ‘it’ll be be good lesson that when gambling in this pub there is only ever one winner, me!’

Dave’s background in wheeler-dealing is often put to good use, and usually for a good cause.

It was the same Liz Wintern that created such a fuss over the Mill Rise development. A number of executive homes in a close were granted planning permission covering the route Liz took her dog ‘Dante’ walking. During the planning application, the construction, and even after the houses were completed she still vented her spleen allowing ‘Dante’, her pedigree Cocker Spaniel, to roam Mill Rise investigating every open gate and fenceless garden. Liz would call his name as loud as she could reminding the residents they had trespassed on her hallowed dog walking route. The impromptu meeting of ‘Dante’ and Mr. and Mrs. Carbright’s pedigree Poodle ‘in season’ bitch ‘Marni’ created a furore. When ‘Marni’ eventually delivered four mongrel pups the anger only increased. However, when the resulting ‘Cockapoos’, the first ‘designer’ dogs in our village, began to fetch such high prices, an agreement was reached between the waring parties and Marni has had several litters since, the proceeds of which have been shared between the owners. It seems now Liz has accepted the existence of Mill Rise, and is no longer a nuisance.

Joe and Jarvis cocker are names that often provoke a smile, as did many years ago a restorer who had two cats called ‘Callard and Bowser’ an American sweet manufacturer. Unfortunately paired names don’t always work out. A fellow antiques dealer acquired two terrier pups which he called Starsky and Hutch at about the time when the TV series was popular. Unfortunately four or five years later one of them, Hutch, had to be put down, leaving Starsky on his own. Everyone being introduced to ‘Starsky’ would ask, where’s Hutch? The pain of this was too much for the owner who changed the dog’s name to Derek.

Dave at the pub has ‘Roman’, a German Shepherd, that he regularly walks past my gate, down past the Old Mill to the stream. Roman was a rescue dog and has some peculiar idiosyncrasies. He hates rain and if caught out in it will stand rigid so Dave has to pick him up and carry and carry him to shelter. Dave says strangely he has no fear of water and will gladly jump into the stream after a stick. Roman likes to drink ale, he doesn’t like lager, but left with more than a pint by accident Roman will stand motionless having drunk it all, head drooping and will after a few minutes collapse onto his side fast asleep. Dave says he has a habit of ‘daydreaming’, even without alcohol. Apparently dozing, often standing motionless, Roman will awake suddenly jump, or spin round, or sprint a few feet to avoid what ever it was in his daydream, and then turn back to investigate where ‘whatever it was’ had gone. 

Paul’s Labrador ‘Lola’ named after the boat she was found on, is so well behaved there is little I can say about her other than she’s a joy to take walking. 

The village has been thankfully free of the theft of any animals that we know of. Cats have been known to re-locate if they find better accommodation but usually an arrangement between the parties means that some discouragement sends the stray back home, until the next time. It’s unusual for dogs to stray being usually constrained on a lead or within the confines of a property, Joe and Jarvis being exceptions. Milton Peacock is very attached to his Dalmatian cross called Jackson, a reference to Jackson Pollack who Milton’s wife, Shirley, thought resembled one of his paintings. Shirley has never been a fan of either and for some time was in the habit of leaving the dog in their front garden in the hopes it would be stolen. 

Jackson, like many dogs, is not fond of cats particularly when they are being goaded by them from somewhere inaccessible, basically anything above four feet, or in Roman’s case six or seven. Milton, irritated by Jackson’s barking, embarked upon an anti cat campaign. Various deterrents were used the most successful being a particularly violent Spanish chilli powder put on walls or fences, out of the reach of Jackson. After several cats were taken to the vets in severe distress and appearing to dance a flamenco, Shirley, not for the first time, threatened divorce. There is now an electrical system covering the entire Peacock property emitting an inaudible high pitch whistle which deters cats but makes dogs start barking up to half a mile away, if the wind’s in the right direction.

Like many village affairs, the Dawsons are in a league of their own. Their relationship with animals probably goes all the way back to the Trojan horse, and Dave (Davinia) has been arrested more than once for various crimes regarding animal rights, but that will all have to wait for another time.

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Written and read by Barkley Johnson.