I used to have a dog. He was a big black labrador type of dog, only with longer legs. We got him from the Dogs Trust at Sadberge near Darlington, in November 2002. We weren't sure we should get a dog at all, because we were out quite a bit in the daytime, and it meant leaving him on his own. He won't mind, they said, he's been in the kennels for months anyway. He won't mind a warm house instead.
He didn't seem very well behaved. We took him for a walk round a muddy field, and they made him put a halter on, to try and help with steering him. It didn't help much. He just kept pawing at it, and he pretty much went wherever he wanted. At one point he managed to get the lead tangled up in Becky's legs and tripped her up in the mud. That didn't go down too well.
After we'd walked him round the field for a bit, we took him back into the shelter and even though he wasn't supposed to, he stood up on his back legs, put his front legs on the desk and licked the girl's face behind the counter. I think that was when I knew he was ours.
We wanted a few days to think about it, so we put a reserve on him. There won't be any need, the girl said, I don't think he'll be going anywhere. Anyway, a few days later we went back for him. He cost £60 and he had a birth certificate and everything, although I think his Date of Birth was probably just a guess, as he'd been picked up as a stray in Leeds. It was 2nd April 1996. That means he would have been 16 today.
I wasn't really cut out to be a dog owner. I'm not really alpha male material. I used to give him bits of my dinner straight from the dining table, and let him up on the sofa, and I didn't like telling him off, even if it was the right thing to do. The first time I let him off his lead he looked like he was rocket powered. He hurtled round the field as if he was in the Large Hadron Collider and when he eventually came back towards me at about a hundred miles an hour I realised that between me and him was a barbed wire fence. By some genius bit of mid-air manoeuvring, the like of which you'd expect to see in a Hanna-Barbera cartoon, he managed to turn sideways and dive through the gap between the two horizontal pieces of wire. I inspected him all over for cuts but I couldn't find any. I think he knew what he was doing.
A few days after we got him, my friend Mark brought his German Shepherd round. This was probably a mistake, as after a bit of snarling my dog pinned his dog to the ground by the head. Mark managed to get his fingers in my dogs throat through a gap in his teeth to stimulate his gag reflex, and eventually he let his dog go, but it freaked us all out a bit. I think on reflection, it was our fault more than the dog's. I think he was just defending his new patch.
He did once try to eat a Weimaraner as well, which belonged to a big burly neighbour of mine. The guy came after me with a stick, after my dog got his dog by the ear. Oops. Again, I think it was my fault. I think he picked up on my nervousness, and he thought he better stand up for me.
We think he must have come from a good home at some point, because he knew all his commands, and he used to make the other dogs look bad at the dog training classes I took him to. He was literally the teacher's pet. The teacher used to let the other dogs mess up, and then call mine over to show them how it should be done. The dog training was at the Dogs Trust, where he'd lived a long time, and I think they all knew him and had a soft spot for him anyway, but it was fun.
I won't go on. I think sometimes that when people talk about their pets, it's a bit like when they talk about their children, and something cute they've done. You can sort of picture what they're talking about, but as they're describing it, they're full of love, whereas to you it's just a story.
My dog was called Hudson and he died in 2006. We only had him less than 4 years, and then his heart started to fail, and we tried to give him some medicine, but when he started to go and lie down on his own in the garden, and he wouldn't eat, we knew it was time. I was in the room with him when he died, and that was six years ago.
In the early days of having him, when he was going through his awkward big dog eating phase, we tried a muzzle on him for a while, but he hated it, and one day we lost him in a field and when he came back, he'd managed to wriggle it off. He looked so pleased with himself. We never put one on him again.
At the time when he lost his muzzle in there, that field was just a field, but a few years later, and they're building houses on it. I was cycling past there the other day with Ruth, and there was a big sign up advertising new build properties, and it made my day, when I saw what they were calling the development. It's called Hudson Park!
I think it's unlikely that a whole housing development has been created, in memory of my dog. I doubt very much that anyone connected to the building company knows that a dog named Hudson lost his muzzle in that field ten years ago, and even if they do, I don't suppose they would care. But it made me smile when I saw the sign. And apart from the times when I had to try and get other dogs' heads from out of his mouth, that was pretty much what happened every time I spent time with Hudson. He made me smile.
And during the time I knew him, I did some really stupid things, and sometimes no-one in the house where I lived wanted to talk to me, except him. He was always there, and he was always happy to hang out with me. He loved me when I was an idiot, and he loved me when I wasn't. I don't think he knew the difference.
Anyway, today's his birthday. Probably not his real one, but it's his official one, from his birth certificate and all. And that's good enough for me. Happy Birthday Hudson. I still miss you.
Postscript: I found out from the developers Taylor Wimpey that the name Hudson Park was actually put forward by one of their employees to commemorate two plane crashes that took place in this area during the Second World War. The Hudson was in fact a twin propeller engined aircraft and details of the two unfortunate crashes are detailed below. Both very sad stories. Thank you to Jenny Mothersdale of Taylor Wimpey for taking the time to reply to my enquiry.
http://www.yorkshire-aircraft.co.uk/aircraft/yorkshire/york41/v9032.html
http://www.yorkshire-aircraft.co.uk/aircraft/yorkshire/york42/ae627.html
He didn't seem very well behaved. We took him for a walk round a muddy field, and they made him put a halter on, to try and help with steering him. It didn't help much. He just kept pawing at it, and he pretty much went wherever he wanted. At one point he managed to get the lead tangled up in Becky's legs and tripped her up in the mud. That didn't go down too well.
After we'd walked him round the field for a bit, we took him back into the shelter and even though he wasn't supposed to, he stood up on his back legs, put his front legs on the desk and licked the girl's face behind the counter. I think that was when I knew he was ours.
We wanted a few days to think about it, so we put a reserve on him. There won't be any need, the girl said, I don't think he'll be going anywhere. Anyway, a few days later we went back for him. He cost £60 and he had a birth certificate and everything, although I think his Date of Birth was probably just a guess, as he'd been picked up as a stray in Leeds. It was 2nd April 1996. That means he would have been 16 today.
I wasn't really cut out to be a dog owner. I'm not really alpha male material. I used to give him bits of my dinner straight from the dining table, and let him up on the sofa, and I didn't like telling him off, even if it was the right thing to do. The first time I let him off his lead he looked like he was rocket powered. He hurtled round the field as if he was in the Large Hadron Collider and when he eventually came back towards me at about a hundred miles an hour I realised that between me and him was a barbed wire fence. By some genius bit of mid-air manoeuvring, the like of which you'd expect to see in a Hanna-Barbera cartoon, he managed to turn sideways and dive through the gap between the two horizontal pieces of wire. I inspected him all over for cuts but I couldn't find any. I think he knew what he was doing.
A few days after we got him, my friend Mark brought his German Shepherd round. This was probably a mistake, as after a bit of snarling my dog pinned his dog to the ground by the head. Mark managed to get his fingers in my dogs throat through a gap in his teeth to stimulate his gag reflex, and eventually he let his dog go, but it freaked us all out a bit. I think on reflection, it was our fault more than the dog's. I think he was just defending his new patch.
He did once try to eat a Weimaraner as well, which belonged to a big burly neighbour of mine. The guy came after me with a stick, after my dog got his dog by the ear. Oops. Again, I think it was my fault. I think he picked up on my nervousness, and he thought he better stand up for me.
We think he must have come from a good home at some point, because he knew all his commands, and he used to make the other dogs look bad at the dog training classes I took him to. He was literally the teacher's pet. The teacher used to let the other dogs mess up, and then call mine over to show them how it should be done. The dog training was at the Dogs Trust, where he'd lived a long time, and I think they all knew him and had a soft spot for him anyway, but it was fun.
I won't go on. I think sometimes that when people talk about their pets, it's a bit like when they talk about their children, and something cute they've done. You can sort of picture what they're talking about, but as they're describing it, they're full of love, whereas to you it's just a story.
My dog was called Hudson and he died in 2006. We only had him less than 4 years, and then his heart started to fail, and we tried to give him some medicine, but when he started to go and lie down on his own in the garden, and he wouldn't eat, we knew it was time. I was in the room with him when he died, and that was six years ago.
In the early days of having him, when he was going through his awkward big dog eating phase, we tried a muzzle on him for a while, but he hated it, and one day we lost him in a field and when he came back, he'd managed to wriggle it off. He looked so pleased with himself. We never put one on him again.
At the time when he lost his muzzle in there, that field was just a field, but a few years later, and they're building houses on it. I was cycling past there the other day with Ruth, and there was a big sign up advertising new build properties, and it made my day, when I saw what they were calling the development. It's called Hudson Park!
I think it's unlikely that a whole housing development has been created, in memory of my dog. I doubt very much that anyone connected to the building company knows that a dog named Hudson lost his muzzle in that field ten years ago, and even if they do, I don't suppose they would care. But it made me smile when I saw the sign. And apart from the times when I had to try and get other dogs' heads from out of his mouth, that was pretty much what happened every time I spent time with Hudson. He made me smile.
And during the time I knew him, I did some really stupid things, and sometimes no-one in the house where I lived wanted to talk to me, except him. He was always there, and he was always happy to hang out with me. He loved me when I was an idiot, and he loved me when I wasn't. I don't think he knew the difference.
Anyway, today's his birthday. Probably not his real one, but it's his official one, from his birth certificate and all. And that's good enough for me. Happy Birthday Hudson. I still miss you.
Postscript: I found out from the developers Taylor Wimpey that the name Hudson Park was actually put forward by one of their employees to commemorate two plane crashes that took place in this area during the Second World War. The Hudson was in fact a twin propeller engined aircraft and details of the two unfortunate crashes are detailed below. Both very sad stories. Thank you to Jenny Mothersdale of Taylor Wimpey for taking the time to reply to my enquiry.
http://www.yorkshire-aircraft.co.uk/aircraft/yorkshire/york41/v9032.html
http://www.yorkshire-aircraft.co.uk/aircraft/yorkshire/york42/ae627.html
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