CORONAVIRUS: FAILURE SIMPLY NOT AN OPTION
ODD MAN’S WEEK
ALL because of dreadful cruelty among our criminal fraternity, at least two instances of which have been reported in the South of England this week, I am reminded of another act, this one of great kindness and in Grimsby during the very dark days of war.
Police have revealed how gangs who, taking advantage of our current dark days, have systematically stolen dogs from their owners to either sell on to others or use for illegal breeding.
The pain of losing a dog this way has a unique agony.
Now the story I shall tell you and not I admit for the first time is very touching and no apologies for its retelling.
As Edwardian Grimsby grew, Hainton Square (not really a square but a mere meeting of four roads) achieved an importance which warranted large villas for prominent residents, a huge Methodist chapel, the Municipal College, the town’s education offices, a manse, an enormous vicarage ... and a doctor’s surgery.
The doctor was William Wallace (1874-1947). Some of you may recall him. He came to Grimsby in 1902 to be a locum for a week. But he stayed and became president of the county’s BMA, the pathologist at Grimsby General Hospital, a famous entomologist and a specialist in the treatment of malaria.
He had a wonderful garden behind 15 Hainton Avenue, his home and surgery, a son, who also became a doctor, and a daughter, Ivy. She had a dog.
In 1939 when war broke out Miss Ivy Wallace, then 23, was found a job as secretary to the chief constable, Mr Charles Butler, friend of her father.
The office was in the Town Hall, then the hub of the town and its police station. Nearby was the fire station. And at the back was the dog pound. It was not empty for long. Houses were bombed. People moved away and were posted to army billets. Stray dogs roamed the street only to be caught and put in the pound awaiting their owners. But the owners never came and after a week or two they were put down.
The barking and howling of the animals were the most disagreeable part of Ivy Wallace’s daily duty. Eventually she could stand it no longer and one very dark night, the air raid sirens having not sounded, she made her move, having counted the dogs in the pound. Armed with 12 pieces of strong string she borrowed the dog pound key from the duty sergeant, harnessed all the dogs, and set off into the night.
She went down Doughty Road. But at the cemetery gates was blinded by a torchlight. It was a police sergeant who instantly recognised her as the Chief’s secretary. “What a lot of dogs, Miss Wallace,’ said the sergeant.
“Yes,” she replied. “We’re very fond of dogs.”
“They look very like those we’ve got in the pound at the moment,” he said.
“Pure coincidence,” she replied. And once the sergeant moved on she let them all go.
I recall her telling me that story as if it was yesterday. Ivy Wallace who died aged 90 14 years ago had been at Grimsby Girls High School before going on to Harrogate Ladies College.
She became immensely famous as the author of the Pookie books for children which sold in their millions, were translated into many languages. and spawned Pookie clubs worldwide.
Pookie was a rabbit.
But it was those homeless dogs which Ivy Wallace remembered to the end of her days.