A bit of a slog just now!

My sub-heading is further forward in time, as it were, than Chapter Four represents.

Because at the time of preparing this post for today. i.e. yesterday afternoon, while I am releasing Chapter Four to you very forgiving readers, in terms of my current position, I have just started Chapter Eight. So on the NaNoWriMo website, my word count is, or will be within the next hour, around the 16,500 mark, as opposed to the word count at the end of Chapter Four which was 10,100 words.

On one hand that feels like some achievement but the reality is that it is very close to where I have to be today, to achieve the 50,000 words by the end of November and, guess what, another 1,660 words has to be created tomorrow, and Tuesday, and Wednesday, and ….. I’m sure you get the message.

Anyway, enough of this waffling, I have words to write! 😉

Here’s Chapter Four that continued from Chapter three here.

oooOOOooo

Learning from Dogs.

Chapter Four

Upon his return to Harberton, Philip’s change of mood was unmistakable from that when he and Pharaoh had left the house a little over three hours ago. He opened the front door, allowing Pharaoh to push past him, as he always did, and stepped into the house.

Maggie was downstairs in their bedroom sorting through laundry. Philip, led by Pharaoh, went in to the room. He sat on the edge of the made-up bed.

“Guess what, Maggie!” he exclaimed. “We had the most amazing stroke of luck.”

“Come on,” Maggie replied, “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll make us some coffee and you can tell me all about it.”

As they sat drinking their coffees, Philip explaining the chance meeting with Angela and next Wednesday’s appointment, the grey cloud was breaking up and letting a fitful November’s Winter sun through the pair of full length windows that looked Southwards out over the tiny cul-de-sac where their house was situated.  Maggie and Philip had lived here for some eight years, coming together to live here about a year after they had first met. Luckily, at that time Philip had been in rented accommodation in a farmhouse just a couple of miles away.  So when Philip suggested that he and Maggie buy a house together, it was an uncomplicated move.

They had struck lucky in finding the property soon after this house had come on to the market.  It was actually a converted stone cow-shed that had originally been built over two hundred years ago.  The stone barn, to give it a more accurate description, was the typical Devon stone barn in that the cattle were accommodated, stable fashion, at ground level and the hay was stored on the level above.  At that time, the barn would have been on the edge, and connected to, the open grassland to their West.  But when the barn was taken out of agricultural use and sold, it had only a fraction of that pre-existing grassland attached.

The local guy who had done the conversion some twenty years ago had done it as an ‘upside-down’ house with the living rooms above the two bedrooms and family bathroom on the ground level.  But despite it being a smallish house, it was full of character and Philip had been lucky to find out about it.  In fact, from a casual remark over a pint of Devon ale in the Church House Inn, the local village pub.  Philip had idly asked David, the publican, if he knew of any houses for sale in the village.  David had put a hand up to halt Philip in mid-sentence and called across the bar, “Barry, someone wants to buy your barn!”  And that had been that.

Before Philip knew it, Wednesday morning had arrived. Monday and Tuesday had been busy days for him.  Since he had returned in 1993 from a few years living overseas, he had found himself being asked to provide mentoring support to a number of other entrepreneurs.  Philip had been fortunate to start his own business back in 1978 after leaving IBM in the UK, and even more fortunate to have someone contact him in 1986 enquiring if Philip might be interested in selling out.  Ever the salesman, Philip was delighted to close the deal and take a few years off bumming around the Mediterranean.

This part of South-West England had many who either wanted to start their own business or needed support in developing an already established operation.  It wasn’t a great money-spinner for Philip but the connections and the variety of different businesses out there, plus so many fascinating entrepreneurs, made it very enjoyable.  Plus he, himself, was constantly learning new ideas.

Of course, any reminiscences of the past had Philip lingering in the memories of those years from 1978 through to 1986, the years that he ran his own business. Way back to the early days of business computing. Back to a chance meeting with the sales manager of Commodore Computers UK at their Chiswick headquarters to the west of London.  How he had become the sixth Commodore Computer dealer in the UK based in Colchester in early 1979 and been offered the opportunity of distributing a word-processing program for the Commodore ‘PET’.  While he hadn’t a clue about computers, Philip had left IBM as an experienced word processing salesman.  In a dramatic turn of fortune, Philip went from having trouble spelling the word computer to being able to offer the Commodore Computer with word-processing software for businesses for around a tenth of the cost of then ‘stand-alone’ word-processing machines.  It really was a licence to print money.

He must have become lost in thought to the point where Pharaoh had to remind him with a nudge from a warm snout that they were going out and to, please, open that front door! A very excited Pharaoh bounced down the steps, he sensed something very different about this day.

Again, South Devon was offering typical November weather with low grey clouds and the promise of rain. Philip had Pharaoh’s regular leash plus he had grabbed the body harness that was such a gentle alternative to tugging on a dog’s collar.

As he drove across to Staverton to walk some of Pharaoh’s excitement away, before going on to Angela, his mind drifted back to those days of running his own business, reflecting on how quickly demand for his software had him setting up country distributors right across the world.  In America, he had set up a distributor for the eastern part of the USA in Philadelphia in New Jersey, and in Southern California had likewise appointed a distributor, Danny Mitchell, for the western half of the US.

Dear old Danny Mitchell, what a character he had been.  No, that’s wrong, it should be what a character he still is!  Danny and Philip had formed a fantastic relationship that was still going strong today after more than twenty-four years.

It was a little after nine-thirty when he parked nose-in to James’ field gate.  He let Pharaoh out of the car, locked the car doors and opened the gate to the upper field.  Just for a change and just as much for the experiment, once the gate was closed behind them, he commanded Pharaoh to sit.

“Pharaoh, stay!”  Philip quietly unclipped the leash.  “Pharaoh heel!” Philip slapped his left thigh with his left hand, and set off down the grassy path.  As he hoped, Pharaoh trotted beautifully to heel, even up to within a few yards of the edge of the woods.

“Pharaoh, sit!”  Philip rubbed Pharaoh’s forehead, just where the blackness of his snout filtered into the black-brown hair across his wide, brown eyes.  “There’s a good boy.  Go on then, off you go.”

Pharaoh was away into the trees.

Philip found one of the stumps he used for such mornings, swept the back of his coat underneath his backside and sat down on the old oak stump.

The hour passed as gently as one could ever wish for and, as if on cue, Pharaoh trotted up to where Philip was still sitting just about when it was time to be off to Angela’s place.

Soon they were back in the car and Philip reversed out into the lane and repeated the car journey of just last Sunday.  He couldn’t square the circle of the events since that Deborah Longland had marched them off, figuratively speaking, from her class just last Saturday afternoon.  It seemed like a lifetime ago.  That old chestnut came to mind; one of many that he was apt to use.  The one about never underestimating the power of unintended consequences!

As they nosed again into Angela’s yard area, about ten minutes before eleven, she was there expecting them.  This time the muddy overalls and red plastic boots had been cast aside for a pair of freshly laundered blue jeans, fitting snugly around her hips, over a pair of soft, walking shoes, topped with a cotton blue-and-white blouse showing from under a woollen pullover.  Angela’s face declared more make-up than last Sunday.

“Morning Philip,” Angela called out in a bright and breezy manner as Philip closed his driver’s door behind him.

“Good morning to you, Angela.  What’s the plan then?”

“It’s quite simple, Philip.  Just walk him on his leash over towards that fenced off pasture, just where I’m pointing.  Stop before reaching the gate when you are five or ten feet away.”

Philip opened the tail-gate quietly surprised that Pharaoh was in a very contented mood.  Despite the lure of so many new sights and smells, Pharaoh sat on his haunches as Philip clipped on his leash.

“Down Pharaoh. Pharaoh sit. Pharaoh heel.” Bless him, Philip thought, he’s behaving immaculately.

As they came to a halt, Angela standing a little before the gate, Philip noticed that in the far left-hand corner of the pasture were two dogs. Philip was totally thrown by Angela’s next instruction.

“Philip, I’m going to open the gate a little and stand back.  Just slip inside the field, let Pharaoh off his leash and then leave him to do just what he wants to do.”

“But Angela, I can’t guarantee that he won’t go across and be aggressive to those dogs over there.”

“Don’t worry, Philip.  This is not as random and unplanned as you may think.”

Angela then unlatched the gate and opened it towards her by quite an amount.  She then stood back.

Pharaoh looked at the open gate and the two dogs a good hundred yards from him in that corner of the field.  Philip released the leash and stepped out. Pharaoh walked confidently in beyond the open gate and further on for about twenty-five yards.  Pharaoh hesitated.

Then came the call from Angela that would be destined to be in Philip’s consciousness for the rest of his days.

“There’s nothing wrong with Pharaoh!”

Philip practically choked on getting his next words out. “Sorry? Not sure I heard you correctly? Did you say there’s nothing wrong?  But don’t understand.  How on earth can you tell so quickly when Pharaoh’s hardly even entered the field?”

“Philip, it’s very easy.  Because my two dogs haven’t taken any notice of him.  He’ll be fine.  Let’s just lean on the fence and watch the three of them and I’ll explain what’s going on.”

Philip came up and lent his arms over the top horizontal rail of the fence, its height comfortably allowing the rail to run across his chest and under each armpit.  Angela, being a little shorter than Philip, stood next to him with her hands on the rail.

“Those two dogs of mine in the field are Sam and Meda. They are both teaching dogs.  Sam is a teaching dog, a male, that we would describe as a Nannie and Meda is a female teaching dog more closely described as a Mentor.  Don’t worry just now, I’ll explain all later. Let’s just watch Pharaoh’s interaction with them for a while.”

Philip was silent, utterly overcome with emotion.  He loved that dog of his so much and had been so worried these past few days that to have Angela’s endorsement of him in this manner was joy beyond joy.

He watched as Pharaoh came up to Angela’s two dogs, head slightly lowered, tail down, seemingly offering himself to Sam and Meda as a submissive youngster ready to learn.

Sam took no notice at all of Pharaoh as Meda partially encircled Pharaoh, sniffed his bum and then, miracle of miracles, softly touched wet nose to wet nose.  Pharaoh noticeably perked up and as Sam came across to greet this new companion, Pharaoh’s tail gently wagged a return greeting. Sam then hung back as Meda appeared to take Pharaoh on a bit of tour around the field, sharing this smell and that smell.

“Do you know what, Philip,” Angela remarked, “I’m pretty sure that Pharaoh is another Mentor.”

She continued, “I can see no difference in their hierarchies.  In other words Pharaoh is not dominating Meda, neither Meda dominating Pharaoh. I think you have a wonderful German Shepherd.  Wouldn’t be at all surprised if I can’t use him teaching some of the poor dogs that come this way.”

Angela added, “Let’s call them in and I’ll make us a nice cup of tea and open your eyes to the magical world of dogs.”

With that Angela called out to her dogs and over they came, Pharaoh happily in tow.  Philip was able to call him over to the car and Pharaoh jumped up just as happy as a dog could be.

Sam and Meda had parked themselves somewhere else and Angela pointed Philip towards a static caravan that seemed to be the customer’s lounge.  Inside, there was a small gas burner and within minutes the kettle was singing out in the unique way that full kettles sound when they are warming up.

“Sit yourself down in the corner, Philip.  Won’t be long.  How do you take your tea? White with sugar, or …”

“Just white with no sugar, please Angela.  Must say that I could murder a fresh cup of tea.”

“Tell you what, why don’t you go and bring Pharaoh to be with us in the caravan.  This story about dogs could take a while!” Angela winked at him.

Moments later, Pharaoh was curled up contentedly on the opposite corner cushion.  Shepherds, like most other breeds of dogs, but ten times more so, loved being in the company of humans chatting comfortably together.

Five minutes later, fingers around the warm, white china mug, steam rising from the freshly brewed tea, Philip was all ears to learn more about dogs in general and teaching dogs in particular.

Philip knew that he was on the verge of embracing dogs, in every single meaning of the word.  It was a magical morning.

2,330 words Copyright © 2013 Paul Handover