In the USA braces are known as suspenders.
Be aware that this story may not be suitable for all as it contains references to a violent incident. If you are upset or having a bad day maybe give this one a miss. Having said that there is a happy ending.
Despite its reputation as a guard dog my experience of the Doberman is extremely good. I have found it to be a loyal, even tempered, delightful companion dog and the failings of owners should not detract from its reputation
I have been thinking about writing this story for years. It’s not an uplifting cuddly dog story but one of real life. It destroyed a family, and the consequences for one member were appalling. The distressing part was that it was all so unnecessary. It could all have so easily been avoided. So, having not written it for so long, why now? Well, it’s like this: If reading this story saves even one more incident like this from happening, then it will be worth it.
I was a veterinary nurse at the time, with three years of experience behind me, so I was even then a reasonably competent dog handler. As regular readers already know, my academic skills left much to be desired, but for this one talent, it might have been suggested that I seek employment elsewhere. My boss, however, made her feelings known when she uttered the words.
“If it’s got hair and four legs, Ray can handle it.”
I had even handled police dogs who came in for surgical procedures, and believe me, in those days, they were generally classed as a bunch of headbangers. Mind you, the police officers in the dog section were generally considered to be a fairly eccentric lot anyway, so we took the view that they deserved each other!!
On a serious note, you would feel very safe if you saw one on the street. Even the local rowdies walked softly. Maybe a few on the beat now would be a good idea?
Perhaps not. Someone will be calling a lawyer, and the next thing we know, a police dog will be up before the magistrates charged with “looking fierce” in a public place. The police will be sued for owning a “fierce-looking dog.” A class action suit brought by hundreds brings huge financial rewards on the grounds that the fierce-looking dog has caused distress, leading to time off work, loss of income, harm to health, nervous stress, deep anxiety, etc.
The local pub was the White Lion, only a few metres away from the surgery, so it was the regular place to have a pint and relax. In those days, the White Lion was an old-fashioned pub. There was no pool table or jukebox, just darts and skittles, and no food apart from crisps and scotch eggs. (If you can remember those pubs, you are… mature in years!!)
The landlord was Cyril. He was the archetypal landlord, a jovial fellow, always smiling. He came complete with a beer belly held up with a broad leather belt and bright red braces. His wife was Maud, and their daughter was Shirley, who was around 7/8 years old with blonde hair, a peaches and cream complexion and blue eyes. Their dog was a Doberman called Nobby, named after the legendary Manchester United footballer Nobby Styles.
The only discordant note was, unfortunately, the presence of Nobby. Cyril would occasionally let Nobby loose in the public bar, but it became increasingly obvious that he was losing control. Nobby was becoming more disobedient as time went by to the point where aggression was at the forefront of his behaviour. Soon, he couldn’t be trusted by the customers and was banished to either the backyard or an upstairs bedroom. I watched all this evolve with trepidation. Despite my youth, I had already been involved in so many occasions involving out-of-control dogs whilst assisting veterinary surgeons in incidents where the police or RSPCA had requested the presence of a vet. I spoke to Cyril or at least I tried to speak to him. On the two occasions that I expressed my concern about Nobby’s behaviour, it was made plain to me that my comments were not welcome, even to the point of suggesting that any further observations on my part would get me barred. As to my concern over Shirley’s safety, the reply was blunt. “That dog will protect my family with his life.”
I was close by when the police and ambulance crews arrived with blues and twos fully operational. The medics rushed in and emerged minutes later with Shirley, her face covered in blood-stained gauze. Cyril and Maud accompanied her, and they sped off to the hospital. The story of what happened was that Nobby was shut in a bedroom with a bone, Shirley had wandered in, and Nobby had protected his bone with the inevitable consequences. Cyril had gone in and got Shirley out, but Nobby was still in the bedroom.
I knew the police officers in attendance and offered to go into the room and get a lead on Nobby, but my offer was declined. The reply was.
“We would be delighted, but if you get injured, my sergeant will have me up on a charge, and anyway, we have a dog handler from the dog section coming.”
I returned to the surgery and warned that we would almost certainly receive a visit, and preparations were made. Sure enough, a dog handler arrived with Nobby, and the deed was done. Nowadays, it would probably require written authority from the dog’s owner or a destruction order from magistrates, but in those days, it was instant justice.
Unsurprisingly, the pub temporarily closed, the family left, and a new landlord was installed by the brewery.
I thought that I would never see Shirley again and often wondered what had happened to her.
Some twenty years later, I was operating as a professional dog trainer and had a regular spot on BBC Radio Cornwall. Shirley, who had moved to the county, heard me on the radio, phoned me, and we arranged to meet.
Shirley brought me up to date with what followed the incident.
Her parents divorced, and her father Cyril was so overcome with guilt that their relationship suffered until he came to terms with what had happened, and finally, their relationship improved. Mum Maud swore she would never have another dog in the house but eventually remarried to a man who had a blind terrier.
And what of Shirley? Well, she had got on with her life, had married, and was a very successful area manager working for a well-known chain of high-street stores. Plastic surgery was not so advanced in those days, but with carefully applied makeup, her scars barely showed.
It also transpired that Shirley helped out as a volunteer at a local dog shelter, and when I asked how difficult that was with her history.
She replied.
“Yes, it was terrifying, but I decided that I had to put it behind me. It took me a few years, but I finally did it.”
Respect.
“The dog is the most faithful of animals and would be much esteemed if it were not so common.”
Martin Luther
With subtitle or not?