Mindy Hammond
Every week in S Magazine Our columnist is feeling a bit pooped in the heat thanks to ninja badgers and bath-hating dogs
We know it’s really hot in our family when even the daft sun-loving black Labrador Sparrow seeks the shade. Over recent weeks, not only has she been found snoozing in the shelter of the big beech tree, she has also been taking herself indoors to lie on the cool kitchen flagstones.
Meanwhile, Chicken, whose leg injury has almost healed, loves a paddling pool. However, because she’s still under strict surveillance, we daren’t let her run free. Her habit of wallowing up to her armpits – wingpits? – in water might seem a serene pastime, but it’s always followed by a whizz around the garden.
So my step count is being increased by the hour, carrying the little madam to her pool for a dip, waiting patiently for her to finish her bath and then lifting her out and trying to stand at the farthest end of her lead while she shakes, ready to swiftly grab her before she sets off in a supersonic circle.
Ojo, like many doodle breeds, has been treated to a summer haircut. His lovely groomer, Sam, visits fortnightly to strip out any loose hair to avoid it matting – a lesserknown problem with many poodle-types. He just loves the attention she gives him and bounds around like a gazelle after his salon sessions.
Because he has a fear of the bath, even though he’ll happily join Chicken in the paddling pool, without Sam’s visits we’d probably have a dog of a darker colour. But at least now all the hay has been cut there are, thankfully, no grass seeds stuck in his coat.
Blea shares Ojo’s allergy to water, and although she’s supposed to be a rufty-tufty, all-weather collie, she’s far too intelligent to even consider sunbathing. When she comes out to the stables she heads straight for the shadiest spot.
The best thing we can do for our doggy pals is keep them cool, so they have two enormous water bowls in the kitchen and several others dotted around the garden. We regularly add ice cubes to the water and take them on their longest walks first thing in the morning and just before suppertime when the sun isn’t as strong.
The toughest challenge is finding shady areas for midday walks, but fortunately our little woodland dingle provides the best place for a cool stroll at lunchtime. The ponds have shrunk but it’s a relief to see the spring-fed pools are still providing a haven for our depleted population of ducks and moorhens.
They’ve had a tough time, poor souls. Even though we’ve had eight or nine batches of ducklings and chicks, we’ve only seen one of them survive to adulthood. It could be the fox, the crows, the dastardly raptor that seems to kill at least three pigeons every night or the overwhelming numbers of badgers who enjoy moonlit forays from the dingle to the garden. We know that like foxes, badgers will steal eggs. And with water levels so low, I suspect many once-safe wildfowl nests have become accessible to these landlubbing thieves and mummy ducks have found their offspring disappearing in the night to a big furry creature in a black and white mask. Also, for the first time in many years, I haven’t seen a single hedgehog.
On our nighttime walks, the bigger dogs tear off across the fields after rabbits, which they never catch, but my heart skips a beat if they disappear into the dingle. God forbid one of them corners a badger. They can be aggressive and seriously injure a dog if they attack. Judging by the number of droppings everywhere, we either have several families of badgers living with us – or a couple with serious digestive problems. With three of our four dogs less than keen on bathing, the badger poop is a hazard to human noses in hot weather. A roll in something super-smelly is a wonderful experience for our pets, and although I can see the evidence of it on Ojo and Chicken, the black coats of Blea and Sparrow hide their misdemeanours – until my nose streams and we all suffer the indignity of five minutes under the hosepipe; I just know that lurking in the bushes watching us is a group of black and white forms creasing with laughter as they plan their next toilet break – probably under Sparrow’s favourite beech tree.