Generally I am not known so much for being a doggy person. This does not mean that I do not like dogs. I would love to have a dog. In my younger days in London I begged mum for a dog but no way. I never really found out why, although mum was often scared of the unknown. If she saw a mouse in the house, she would have a fit and usually either dad or I had to chase it away. Whilst the mouse was sharing our living quarters, she would not enter a room on her own, without sending us as the advance guard to make sure the room was mouse free. I could never understand that, but I was always an animal lover.
Our mice were the normal average house mouse, just trying to find scraps of food for their families somewhere in the area. When you live in a place that was often bombed in the war, and you were surrounded with waste land and half derelict housing remains, it was ideal conditions for a mouse village. We even had the ruin of an old factory in the main road, but that was not so much mouse land, more rat infested. James Herbert’s novel The Rats was most likely inspired by this, as his origins were in the same part of London as mine. His relations even had a market stall along Bethnal Green Road. I am diverging, but this was the reason why I grew up as a cat person. Mum decided that a cat was the best solution to combat the visiting mice. I was quite happy, better a cat than nothing, although our cat was not eactly the brave mouser. He liked to play with the mice if he found one.
So now back to Fuzzy. I never did get around to having a dog, but stayed with cats, so I had my enjoyment with other people’s dogs. This morning we met a good friend of ours with her dog Fuzzy as we were leaving the supermarket. She has been widowed for a few years and some time ago adopted a dog. This dog was found neglected on the streets of Croatia, a republic of ex Jugoslavia. There are many organisations in European countries that help with adoption of these stray dogs, and arrange transport to other European countries, either by plane or truck. I know of a few colleagues that have gladly adopted stray dogs from Cyprus giving them a chance for a good life.
Fuzzy was one of these dogs roaming the streets searching for food and now enoys a wonderful life with our friend. Unfortuntely he somehow picked up an injured foot on the way and wears his little sock to prevent more wear and tear on the foot. He can walk quite well, and never complains. Our friend takes Fuzzy everywhere. If she is shopping in the supermarket he waits patiently outside where they have a special waiting space for dogs. If she decides on something to drink in the supermarket restaurent, Fuzzy comes too. He sits patiently under the table and enjoys his life to the full. I took the opportunity this morning to take a few photos, not then realising that Fuzzy would be a subject of my blog today.