Vortex Bull Terriers ~ New Zealand
Duffy
– Mr Snuf-a-lup-a-gus, Doodle, Doodle Bug
How
do you describe the best dog in the world? Well you can’t really…. I’m
going to try to put into words 12 years of laughter, tears, hilarity, frowns and
despair! Despair
being the type of “oh my god I can’t believe you just did that ….
again!”.
Duff
the Bull Terrier, arrived in my life when I had saved enough money for the
deposit on my first home – that, at age 22 was my first foray into the world
of pedigree dogs. I
can still remember heading out to Waihi in September 1996 to meet Deane and Hyde
and get the once over to see if we were going to be a suitable home for one of
their precious babies. It
wasn’t long before we headed back out to Waihi to pick up our new pup and
begin the journey that ended on the 19th of
May 2008.
Duff
started out being very much a man’s dog, and although I fed him and cared for
him he only had eyes for one guy, the guy that played with him and did stupid
stuff with him. I
can remember having coffee at the neighbours one day and we could hear this
“thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud – BANG! My
neighbour looked at me sideways and said – “We hear this a lot coming from
your house and wondered what on earth you guys were up to.” I
laughed and said imagine one 75 kg human and one 32 kg bully running full speed
through house, up the hall and throwing themselves onto the bed! The
BANG is the bed hitting the wall. Needless
to say that our bed didn’t have legs on it for too long!
I
was by no means a dog novice – but my god owning a bull terrier is a life
changing experience. How
can something so giving and loving, be so damn stubborn and pig headed! So
off to obedience training we went. Duff
and I would turn up and spend an hour fighting and battling with each other, and
by the end of each session my arms felt like they had been ripped from their
sockets. Duff
was so keen to get up close and personal with every other dog there that I spent
all of my time trying to rein him in. Imagine
this, 10 other people with their lovely obedient pets all standing in a circle
with the “Rover’s and Spot’s” all sitting at heel and me and the big
brindle galah trying to do a weave on a loose lead. It
wasn’t a pretty sight! I
did manage to teach my boy to do a down stay and be able to turn and walk away,
but as always, Duffy chose when HE would down and how long HE would stay!
Duff
was an absolute shocker for stealing food off the bench. Anything
that was in paw-reach was fair game…. Or so I thought! I
started moving things to the back of the bench knowing full well that my darling
Duff couldn’t reach them by just putting his front paws up and standing on his
hind legs. I
soon realised that the food was getting from the back of the bench into his
tummy but was mystified regarding the method. It
wasn’t until I came into the kitchen one day and found the thief standing on
the kitchen bench, that the mystery was unravelled! <Sigh> When
we moved home to the farm, Duff was my constant companion. He
would come to work with me every day and spend most of his time under my desk.
He soon learned his rounds. Stop
1 - Check to see if office lady has left handbag with lunch sitting on floor,
Stop 2 - Hugh’s office to see if his dog has any bones worth stealing, Stop 3
- The garage, has door been left open so I can help myself to the dog biscuit
barrel, Stop 4 - through the dog door into Mum’s house to check the kitchen
and the lounge for snacks! This
wasn’t just a once a day, but three or four times. He
realised that sometimes the garage door would be shut and sometimes it was open. Our
Duffy was certainly an opportunist. One
day I decided to have lunch at mum’s (because she had come home from town with
Muffins) instead of going home. My
parents are very old fashioned and the table is set for every meal, I had been
busy setting the table and had put the beautiful cream-cheese and berry muffins
on a plate in the centre of the table. Invariably
the phone rang and I had to leave my post and go to the
office to sort out a customer. Well,
you should have heard my mother screaming! “That
bloody bull terrier! I’m going to kill him!” Yes,
he had helped him self to not one but THREE muffins. As
you can imagine I spent a good deal of time defending my poor Duffy.
The
Classic: Duffy arriving back in the office after one of his little sorties
wearing the black plastic lid to the dog biscuit barrel. Yes
wearing it! He
had found the garage door open but the 30 litre plastic bin had the lid on it
and it was locked down with its little metal clip handles that hook up from the
body of the bin and over the top of the lid. There
was a weakness in the centre of the lid and Duffy managed to push his head right
through the centre of it. Now
he is effectively wearing not only the lid, but also the bin attached to the
lid. I would
imagine he would have rewarded himself with a snack before trying to extricate
himself from the mess. He
did manage to get the bin unhinged from the lid, but the lid was stuck tight. He
came sauntering back into the office as if nothing was up, staring up at me with
his big brown eyes, meanwhile four of us are in fits of uncontrollable laughter. Life
with a bully is never dull!
Duffy
was never what you would call a “stock friendly” dog and living on a farm
had its challenges. I
hadn’t been there that long and my fences were not up to the standard that
they are today. I
had come home from an afternoon shopping in town (dressed in my town clothes)
and had nipped inside to grab the washing basket to hang out a load of washing. I
was standing at the line listening to the sound of running hooves thinking to
myself that’s odd I don’t remember seeing the cattle in the race. Well
Duffy and his partner in crime, daughter Ruby, had zipped out behind my back and
hopped through the five wire fence into the race that runs along the front of my
section. Well picture this, me running, screaming down
the race in my good boots and town clothes, hot on the heels of a herd of steers
and two bullterriers. I
managed to grab Ruby who was busy nipping at the heels of one beast, throw her
over my shoulder kicking and screaming and made a dash for home. It
was a good five hundred metres and I was pooped before I got halfway. I
glanced back to see Duff flying through the air attached to the nose of one of
the larger steers, which was swinging its head from side to side trying to
dislodge the great brindle oaf that was trying to inflict facial piercings
without the added jewellery. I
put my head down and ran the rest of the way home, threw Ruby over the fence,
then into the laundry, banged the door shut and burst into tears. I
phoned Hugh and said in my calmest hysterical voice, “Duff is in the silage
paddock with the cows, please can you come and help me”….
I
took a deep breath and started on my return journey albeit some what slower than
the first trip. Thankfully I met
Duff limping his way back down the race towards home, obviously having come off
second best to the cow. I
will not go into the detail about the ensuing after hours vet visit to repair
the damage to my naughty dogs (only minor scratches for the cow), that is
another tale altogether. The
moral of the story is, bullies really need to be securely fenced!
Duffy
was very much a creature of habit, he had his own spot on the couch, and he
spent every evening on that couch watching tv with Nick. There was always
much shuffling and re-arranging throughout the evening as “The Boys” were
trying to get comfy. He
would come into our room every morning for a cuddle when Nick got up, but was
always out of bed by the time we were seated at the breakfast table, waiting
patiently for the end of whatever Nick was having for breakfast that day. Bullies
can be very reliable at times. Every
night he would get another cuddle before lights out and retiring to his basket
in the hall outside our door. The
funny thing was, when it was time for lights out Duffy’s legs mysteriously
stopped working and he was unable to get off the bed. It
was so hard to keep a straight face while trying be stern and gruff, and it was
always “the other person’s turn” to put him to bed as it was such a
painful process.
I hope that my novel has given you a little bit of an insight into life with our beloved Duff, who was more to us than just a dog – he was truly a Bully - sweet, stubborn, kind, deaf, frustrating and adorable.