His lineage was always doubtful as a Greyhound breeder had no doubt that Merrick was a small Greyhound, however, a man who bred Lurchers was adamant that he was a Lurcher. For those unfamiliar with this type of dog, the Lurcher is a greyhound crossed with another breed usually a collie, and was favoured by gypsies as a hunting dog for rabbits, etc. It is a fact that when a greyhound is crossed with another breed it is almost always certain that the progeny takes on the appearance of the dog with the dominant genes which in this case is the greyhound.
The story was that Merrick had been abandoned by the gypsies and had been found badly injured having been hit by a car. He was then taken to a veterinary surgeon who repaired the damage but the resultant scar was to cause problems for years to come. The scar started at his shoulder and went down vertically to reach the breast bone.
Merrick fitted in well to the household, he got on with the other dogs, showed no signs of hostility to anything or anybody, and true to his type was in fact quite lazy, content with minimal exercise and a bowl of food once a day. The sort of dog that would happily go for long walks if that was what wanted but would be just as contented spending the day asleep in his bed. The ideal family pet, a true gentleman.
It became very apparent very quickly why he was rejected by the gypsies. His ability to chase rabbits was phenomenal but there was just one problem. He was a pacifist, he just would not kill!
For him, the pleasure was in the chase and having caught the rabbit he would gently place his paw on it, give it a quick lick and then let it go.
The startled rabbits would then lay totally still awaiting the final coup-de-grace and then realising that they had been given a reprieve would jump vertically in the air before scuttling off to their burrows doubtless to recount tales of their miraculous escape.
The distressing part was that Merrick would when running at top speed occasionally suddenly stop and scream in pain. A visit to a veterinary surgeon diagnosed that the legacy of the wound had left a tightness that occasionally would manifest itself with a sharp pain when Merrick was at full stretch. It might ease as time went by as the skin became more elastic.
Merrick continued to enjoy life with the occasional painful episode but it became apparent that things were not improving with the passage of time and if anything the incidents were becoming slightly more frequent.
One day Joy offered a solution. I was not impressed!!
Joy was in the habit of visiting a reflexologist. Now I freely admit that I was a little sceptical of the science behind this form of alternative medicine and wasn’t convinced that pressing on somebody’s feet would be any benefit for anything other than giving the recipient a foot massage, however, Joy was convinced of the benefits and as any sensible fella will testify if the lady is contented then leave well alone.
Now when Joy announced that the reflexologist was also a healer and had indicated that she was willing to try and heal Merrick then my scepticism became an annoyance, despite the fact that the lady was offering to do it free of charge explaining that what she did was a gift and never asked for payment.
In those days I viewed healers with the same distrust as clairvoyants.
After much discussion, we agreed that Joy could take Merrick with her next time she went to the reflexologist but on the understanding that no money would exchange hands, that Joy must always be in attendance when the “healing” took place and anything that caused Merrick distress was to stop immediately.
The day arrived, the two of them departed and we all met up when I returned home after a rather busy day.
There wasn’t much for Joy to relate, the lady came out to the car, laid her hands on the scar, Merrick stood motionless as It happened, he showed no distress and the whole event was over in a matter of minutes.
Now bearing in mind that the painful episodes would occur at least once a week, what followed caused me some consternation.
You see Merrick stopped screaming, he continued to chase rabbits and sometimes just ran for pleasure but that terrible reaction to his discomfort immediately stopped. This continued for another 3 months and one day it started again, immediately a visit was arranged with the reflexologist, another session took place, Merrick returned home and never screamed again.
Now the sceptics amongst you will say that the “healing” was an irrelevance and the improvement was a natural progression over time. I might have agreed except for the fact that things were getting worse, not better. No, I am not totally converted to alternative medicine, I still tend to go for a scientific approach but without a doubt, I now have a more open mind.
Another of life’s lessons had been learned. Don’t dismiss what you don’t understand.
This was not Merrick’s only claim to fame.
In 2002 Joy and I decided to emigrate to the Mediterranean island of Crete, and now only having one dog decided to drive taking Merrick with us. This entailed taking a number of ferries three to be precise. The first one was obviously crossing the channel where the dog remained in the car and the second was crossing from Italy to Greece with a company that provided superb air-conditioned kennel facilities and a contained area specifically for the dogs.
The third was from The Greek mainland to Crete and it must be said that the kennel facilities were decidedly primitive. Old, scruffy, wooden kennels that looked as if they would be put to better use by being burnt. However, rules are rules, and being new to this we went along with it and put Merrick in the kennel.
As we wanted the genuine Greek experience we decided not to book a cabin but opted for the airline seat option, a degree of comfort without stretching the budget.
A gentle shake on the shoulder woke me at about 3.00 am and we were informed by one of the stewards that Merrick had escaped from the kennel and was now roaming freely around the ship. Now I must admit that I am not an authority on the capacity of a ferry but even I knew that in those days on a large ferry there can be well over 1000 passengers, up to 100 cabins on multiple decks plus vehicle decks where it would be impossible to spot him and of course Merrick liked swimming!!
Now anybody who has been on a Greek ferry will know it can be a unique experience. Greeks catch ferries the way we would catch a bus. With around 200 inhabited islands ferries are essential for journeys and the Greek people are experts at getting the maximum benefit from this form of travel. Climbing the stairs day and night between decks usually takes the form of a slalom as one navigates the sleeping bags containing adult passengers, children, and dogs. It is normal to find card games, people eating sandwiches and in my time here I have also seen cats In baskets, cage birds, shopping that included car tires, a brand new complete car exhaust pipe, and on one notable occasion a toilet bowel. In the morning the toilets are crowded as the facilities are used including men shaving and putting on work clothes. This all works extremely well as you can adapt your journey to suit your finances. Superb restaurants and cabins for those that can afford it. Airline seats for those on a budget and the deck or floor for those who just need to get from A to B at a minimal cost.
I thought that the best place to start was the kennel from which he had escaped. I had no idea which way to go so I just chose a direction and headed forward. After about an hour of searching, I met a steward and as we passed I asked if he had seen a large dog, unfortunately, he didn’t understand English so I spread my hands in mute appeal and believe me I uttered the immortal words that are universal. “Woof, Woof” He smiled and said, “Skelos” (the Greek word for dog) and indicated that I should follow him. He led me up to the next deck and there was Merrick tied to the guard rail with a piece of cord. My new found friend had found him only minutes before, had heard that a dog had escaped, was a dog lover himself, and realised that Merrick needed to kept in one place while he reported the matter. I profusely thanked the man who firmly refused any gratuity.
Despite my vociferous objections, I was informed at the reception desk that Merrick must be returned to the kennel unless I was prepared to sleep on a stair landing. I was tempted, however, a senior steward accompanied me and an alternative kennel was offered, it was newer, in better condition, and the door was lockable.
Merrick happily went inside, curled up, and went to sleep. He was very aged even then so his escapade had completely exhausted him. The rest of our journey passed without incident.
In his final years, Merrick was a great favourite with the village children who regularly called for him to come out to be stroked. His gentle nature helped many a nervous child overcome their fear of big dogs.
He eventually passed away peacefully in his sleep, aged 17.
A pacifist and a gentleman to the end. Much loved, sorely missed.
“The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven not man’s.”
Mark Twain
With subtitle or not?