10 Life Lessons. Number 3.

We’ve always had dogs.

The first dog I remember was a mongrel called Butch. We went as a family to get him from a neighbour's house. Their dog had just had a litter of eight pups and we were the first to have one. Of course, we chose the biggest and liveliest one, no one wants the runt. He was black and brown and beige with a bit of white thrown in. He looked like every other mongrel on our estate. Dad paid ten bob ( fifty pence ) to the neighbour and we walked away with our new pet, who was just six weeks old. Pedigree dogs just didn’t exist where we came from. I’d never seen one or even knew what they were. I’d heard of Labradors because I had an Aunt who was blind, and she had one. I’d heard of a Collie because I’d watched Lassie on TV, but everyone else I knew had mongrels like Butch.

We all loved Butch. I played ball in the garden with him for hours. Throw something and he’d find it and bring it back. As he got a bit older, he filled out, and at six months was a handsome-looking dog.

No one took him out for walks. He took himself out. That’s what dogs did in 1965, they took themselves for walks. Mum used to open the front door and Butch would go out for a wander and come back later when he’d had enough wandering. He was like us kids, streetwise. He knew the places he could go and the places to stay away from. He had a collar on and a silver disk hanging from it with his name on one side and our home address on the other. We figured that if he ever got lost ( which he never did), then someone would bring him home.

Butch was now as much part of our family as me and my sister were.

Mum's only time away from the family was a two-hour “Womens Club” on a Tuesday night at the local Church Hall. They’d have guest speakers on everything from how to slow cook a shoulder of Lamb to the best way to iron your curtains. I’m not being sexist when I say this, It’s just the way it was back then. The club started at seven o'clock and was finished by nine. Usually Mum would walk there and back. Fifteen minutes each way. One Tuesday night we had a bad thunderstorm, the wind was howling and the rain was coming down like stair rods. Reluctantly, Mum said she wouldn’t go. Dad was having none of it.

“Go, you enjoy your Tuesday nights. Don’t worry about the rain. I’ll drive you.”

Mum looked at him in horror.

“But whose going to look after the kids while you take me?”

Dad smiled.

“It’s a five-minute drive. I’ll be there and back in ten minutes.”

He looked over at me and my sister who were sitting on the settee. I was seven and she was eleven.

“I’m going to take Mum to her Club. You sit there and watch the tele till I come back. I’ll be no more than ten minutes. Don’t move and don’t open the door to anyone. Okay?”

We both nodded and continued to watch the tele.

Mum wasn’t sure, but Dad helped her put on her coat and they left. All we had to do was sit still.

Butch heard the front door close as well. Now was his chance. Dad didn’t allow him on the furniture. But Dad wasn’t there, so as quick as a flash he jumped up on Dad's chair, made himself comfortable and closed his eyes.

Now, I’ve always had this thing about a dog's nose. Yes, I know I’m weird. But it's the texture. It’s a cross between leather and velvet. There is something very satisfying about the feel of a dog's nose.

I got up off the settee and crouched down beside Butch. I touched his nose.

I remember three things at that moment. Teeth, growls and blood.

Suddenly, I was on the floor. My face was wet. I touched the wetness and saw that my hand was covered in blood. My sister was crying and Butch had bolted for the kitchen and was cowering under the table.

Mum and Dad had not been out of the house for more than two minutes.

My sister ran and knocked at our next-door neighbour's house. Mrs Garland was a spinster who lived on her own. She came in, got me up and sat me down in the chair. She went and got a flannel and some water from the kitchen and began to bathe my wound. Dad walked in.

He’d been gone exactly seven minutes. There was a look of utter disbelief on his face. I was crying, my sister was crying, and there was our next-door neighbour wiping blood from my face. Carnage.

“Butch bit Joe.” Was all my sister could say through her tears.

Dad had a look at my face.

“Right, better get you up to the Hospital.”

Mrs Garland took my sister next door, and Dad and I got in his old van and drove to the hospital at East Ham. Neither of us said a word.

I had a tetanus jab and got cleaned up. I had two rather large puncture wounds just below my left eye that were dressed and bandaged. The Doctor said I was lucky, it could have been a lot worse. We were home and put to bed before Mum came back at nine-thirty. Dad told her what had happened. Mum very rarely lost her temper, but she did that night. We could hear her from our bedroom. She cursed Dad for making her go, she cursed herself for leaving us alone. She cursed me for not doing what I was told, and she cursed the day they ever bought that dog.

The next day I got up to go to school. I had a nice shiner and a sore face. Dad hadn’t gone to work. He’d taken the day off. He had a job to do. He was standing at the sink in the kitchen, having his usual morning shave. I went over and cuddled his waist. He ruffled my hair and in a tearful voice, said. “It’s not your fault son.”

I went to school that day and when I came home later. Butch was gone.

LIFE LESSON 3. If it’s asleep, don’t wake it up.