'Something more constructive,’ I said. So what should I
write about, since I’m not in a particularly constructive, nor even
destructive, mood at the moment? I’m in one of those limbo states in which even
my favoured bete noir, The Politician, is failing to raise my ire.
The Muse of Inspiration made a rare visit, whispered in my ear, and
suggested I give over a whole blog post to one very captivating little lady:
Inca, Sarah’s Cocker Spaniel.
‘How should I love thee? Let me count the ways.’ OK, let’s not
go overboard on this, but the fact is that of all the dogs I’ve known, little
Incs really does occupy a rare and special place.
Cocker Spaniels are not big dogs, and Inca is smaller than the
average for her breed, but there’s nothing of the little dog syndrome about her
– nothing yappy or snappy, nothing pretentiously aggressive, no trying to be
something she isn’t. Neither does she have the boisterousness of the big dog,
or the haughty elegance of the Weimeraner or Afghan Hound. Inca is simply and
authentically open, confident, happy, loving and sweet as a sugar lump. And yet
she displays a fine balance of temperament, which is maybe what takes her the
extra yard in the rarity stakes. There is an unpretentious swagger about her
walk, an instinct for exploring that all proper dogs have, and just a hint of wilfulness
to preclude any misapprehension of lapdog sub-status.
I was talking to Sarah once, and looked down to see Incs sitting
pertly between my feet. She had an ‘I’m with this guy’ look, and that
was when I fell in love with her.
They say that dogs reflect their humans, don’t they? So does
that mean we can read something of the inner human from the temperament of the
dog? Who can say?
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