I have the most gorgeous Newfador – cross between a Newfoundland and a Labrador – in the world. He’s gorgeous, he was my baby now he’s my (not so little) old man. At eleven and a half years old he’s doing extraordinarily well as he is still relatively active and very much alert and full of antics. But if there was one thing I could make my pet understand it is that he has the Labrador’s inability to feel full with food. And that the thieving has been of immense proportions.
Here are some examples of my darling’s naughtiness:
- We were hosting a fireworks party one year and my husband was working the BBQ. We had some fried onions on the table and were trying to keep the dogs out of the conservatory (we also had a pure chocolate Labrador at the time). Oakley also has chocolate lab in him so both dogs were stockily built – and determined to be where the action was at. In the chaos of the party they got into the conservatory and within about a second, every single fried onion was gone. It was done so quickly, so efficiently, so cleanly that at first no one could quite work out what had gone on. Until we spotted two dogs happily licking their chops. If they could have high-fived each other, they would have.
- My husband was making a dinner that required a particular cheese with chillies in and for it to be grated. He painstakingly grated a block of said cheese, turned his back for a moment and then it was gone. Oakley (and his then partner-in-crime Oscar) had had the lot. All of it. Barely a crumb had survived.
- Oakley is a rescue dog so I wasn’t aware of his penchant for loaves of bread at first. Returning home from shopping I was rushing around from the house to the car with the grocery bags when it happened. Again, it was unseen and super fast with the wrapper all that was left to confirm that I had bought the loaf of bread but the whole lot was in Oakley’s stomach – he hadn’t even shared it with Oscar. That was a lesson learned.
- One glorious, quintessentially English summer afternoon in the garden we had friends over and were enjoying a BBQ. My husband had cooked the most gorgeous steaks for us all, succulent and tender, leaving his to rest a bit longer while he did something else. No one saw them coming, they’d already been fed inside the house. But the Dastardly Duo again somehow snuck out and pilfered the chef’s steak. And some burger buns. And a couple of sausages. In seconds.
- Another fireworks party, this time with a hot dog stand. Lots of sausages leftover – vegetarian, Cumberland, and chorizo. They’d been thoroughly wrapped in tin foil, placed on top of a stand at the very back of the kitchen counter. The dogs never usually went into the kitchen of an evening, preferring to snore their way through the night in the bedroom. Except, naturally, not all night on this occasion. No, when my husband went downstairs looking forward to a sausage sandwich it was to find ripped tin foil all over the floor, the stand they’d been on brought down and no sausages left. Except one, still perfectly wrapped bundle of vegetarian sausages. They had not been touched.
- The Vegetable Vindaloo Incident. One Saturday night we had a friend over for an Indian take away. Again, it was a lovely sunny summers evening and after the food we were having a drink in the garden. It was a sneak attack by them, very stealth-like. They were patrolling the vicinity with our friend’s dog, eyeing the vegetable vindaloo dish that was still almost full. Quick as a flash, Oscar pulled it to the floor and Oakley and Barney helped him finish it off. Oscar and Oakley were not perturbed by the heat for a moment while poor Barney went running off in the garden to wipe his face on the grass in the hope of reducing the impact of vegetable vindaloo on him. It didn’t bother their stomachs either. But, as we have discovered to our cost, give them a molecule of beef gravy and it’s Armageddon.
- Toast. Endless amounts of toast gone missing because perhaps my son has gotten distracted and left his plate for a second. Or because I’ve gotten distracted and done the same. That appears to be open season especially for Oakley.
- Singapore Noodle Night. My husband was enjoying one of his favourite Chinese dishes when a friend called round to collect her son who had spent the day with our son. I insisted my husband be polite and greet our friend so he reluctantly put his dish onto the table, resting it up as high as he could. He came into the kitchen and we all heard the crash from the lounge – Oakley had managed to get the dish down and was happily eating the Singapore Noodles. That was, apparently, decidedly my fault.
The list goes on and on. We’re normally on very high alert with him around, sadly Oscar passed in September 2023 at the grand old age of 14, but we do make mistakes and he is so quick to pounce on them! Even Oscar who had slowed down considerably managed to speed up when there was the prospect of food around. Pizza, garlic bread, anything eaten casually in the lounge is simply fair game. The one thing he won’t touch under any circumstances is salad. Not a bit of it. He doesn’t like most vegetables either unless their coated in vindaloo. He’s not a healthy eater by choice it’s safe to say!
So, what would I want to make my darling boy understand? That it’s fine, really. At first we might be a bit irritated, but actually it’s perfectly fine. He is so loved, so adored, that we forgive him anything.
It took Oakley two years to settle in with us after his previous experiences. He came to us at age five and has been with us over half his life. But there are times when he is still unsure, still uncertain around us. We’ve never hit him and we never will but an unlucky clash and he’s right back to where he was when he first came to us. I sit with him, cuddling him for the longest time again, trying to remind him that he’s safe and it’s all okay. Unlike Oscar, he doesn’t play fight, doesn’t do the rough and tumble with our son. Any hint of it, and he’s out of the room clearly nervous. I don’t want to think why that’s the case.
Oakley also has the habit of bringing a present to you when he first greets you. Usually a shoe. And in the past it’s often been my suede ones. You can imagine. He also does it to wake me up in the morning, so I’m whacked around the head with my own slipper. Or he and Oscar together used to shove their wet snouts in my face to see if I was awake. I don’t mind that for a moment. I miss Oscar doing it with him. And so I guess the other thing I want Oakley to understand is that I’m aware his antics playing out are now on limited time. I pray he makes this year, I know he won’t make next in all likelihood. So I want him to understand that he can be his mischievous best for as long as he wants to be. It gives us all time to store up the memories, have the laughs and just soak him up.
Though I think my husband draws the line at Singapore Noodles. Sorry, Oaks.
Louisa Simpson 