IN ORDER to compete at the highest level in retriever trials you need the best dogs money can buy, so at the crack of dawn on a freezing cold February morning I set off for the wilds of Scotland to collect a new puppy.
Both mum and dad were Field Trial Champions so I was exceedingly lucky to buy him. It promised to be a long day and Mrs B took the day off work to share the driving.
I've had enough dogs over the years not to get over excited about a new arrival. There are a couple of years of hard work ahead so it's wise to maintain a professional approach.
On arrival I asked Mrs B to refrain from distracting comments like 'he's got a lovely face' and leave the inspection to me. The puppy waiting for me stomped around his kennel like a miniature shire-horse.
"He's the last one to go home... except for her," said the breeder pointing to the saddest excuse for a Labrador I'd ever seen. While my big boy weighed in at around 12lbs this little runt was under three.
"She's been bullied by the others," the breeder explained. "They've ripped off one of her ears. She's not very strong, I doubt she'll survive the week."
As I packed my buster of a pup safely in the truck Mrs B retired to the bathroom for a gentle weep.
Women being women I had enough time to read the papers while I waited and when we finally left for home I selected some cheerful music on the CD to lift her mood.
"Shall we stop for a coffee?" I asked as we approached Lancaster.
"No, you go I'll stay here."
"Oh, come on stretch your legs. We've another couple of hours to drive yet."
"I'm okay here."
While queuing to pay for coffee and sandwiches I suddenly realised I'd left my wallet in the glovebox. I sprinted back to the truck to find Mrs B fiddling surreptitiously with a cardboard carton in the back.
"What's in the box?" I asked.
"Err... nothing"
I peeped in through the lid to see two tiny eyes staring back.
"What the hell is that?"
"You didn't think I was going to leave her behind did you?"
"Leave who?"
"Ellie."
"Ellie, who the devil is Ellie?"
"She's the pup with one ear, I've called her Ellie."
"You've done what?" I was yelling now.
"Don't worry, she won't bother you. I'll take her to work with me."
"Work?"
"Yes, as my listening dog."
"You're not deaf."
"No, but she is."
As I write this week's column I have a tiny one-eared Labrador ripping the toe out of my sock.
Watch this space.
