At the end of May, my podenco Purdey died unexpectedly – I took her to the vet looking for a tonic and instead had to say goodbye. They’re a hardy robust breed and by the time she started drooping the cancer in her liver and spleen was too advanced for any treatment to be possible.  This was always my favourite photo of her, looking dainty and pretty rather than her usual slightly-scruffy and rangy. RIP Purdey. You were a fantastic companion and it is so hard to talk about you x

She’d been found living in a ruin in the campo and I’d taken her in during a Covid lockdown because I was, at the time, the only person who could. I had been more than a bit dubious about it, knowing nothing about podencos except that I didn’t think I could give a dog bred to hunt and run enough exercise. Turned out street walks were fine, with occasional runs in the veld campo, and the bonus of her being invited along by friends on hikes. Temporary slipped unnoticed into permanent, she was a fabulous lovely dog and in her 3 years with me she had made friends all over the village. For that matter, because I have a guesthouse, she had friends all over Europe and I’m still getting whatsapps and mails signed off ‘lots of love to Purdey’. She’d become an absolute asset, not instantly friendly but steadfast in friendships made and greeting repeat guests with delighted recognition, especially those who borrowed her for walks. Adopt a podenco? Absolutely. Fab dogs, self-willed but so loving, so ready for any adventure that presents itself, so worth it.  

Unthinkable to replace her promptly – apart from anything else, my dogs tend to find me, not the other way round – and yet unbearable to live without even a cat. Toks the cat had lived 20 years, overseeing Leela’s seven years in the family, and overlapping with Purdey, and now this big house had no welcome when I got home, no interested face suddenly appearing when the fridge door opened. Even going to the loo unescorted wasn’t the privacy treat it should have been.

I asked a couple of rescue centres if they had any dogs needed urgent temporary respite, and they did. In time I will likely take an older orphaned dog and we can potter gently together into old age but for now a fairly quick turnaround seemed best, young dogs screwed over by life but still with a good chance of starting over and finding forever homes after an intervention to reset.  

Kim, a part Breton with a strong look of the breed, (bird dogs, also known as Brittany spaniels) is beautiful, and gentle, but virtually paralysed by shyness. He was unchipped and his history is unknown – he came onto the rescue radar in February in a city pound, and hid in the back of his run, then was taken by GADAH into a pack of Bretons at a residency where he did his best to efface himself. He’s estimated to be around three years old. The fostering goal is to finish the course of pills he’s on until he’s cured of the two Mediterranean diseases he’s picked up – a matter of weeks to go – but also to rebuild his confidence and get him to interact with people. From the second day there was a tail thump in greeting, now, a week in, he’ll lean into a hug and shyly invite tummy rubs, but he still won’t move  if there’s any chance of being seen. I put food and water at the other end of the room and the bowls are emptied within seconds of me leaving, but if I stay, (and I have taken a book and stayed) he’ll go hungry rather than show he can move. He sneaks to the terrace to make his toilet when I am safely out. The ultimate goal is to get him going for walks on a lead and, a week in, it’s hard to tell whether that will be another week, a year, or never . . .

Leia – and I hadn’t intended to take two – is likely to be a much shorter stay. She was liberated from the cage where she’s spent the first neglected year of her life to have her mangled tail amputated. Valle Verde took up her story and called for an urgent foster home, and she was chipped and spayed and brought here not only to recuperate but to learn about the gigantic world outside the tiny confines of a cage. She’s a little white dog with a touch of podenco around the ears, a mix of total innocence, nerves and sheer pluck. She’s enjoying her three walks a day, toilet-trained herself almost immediately, is learning how to interact with dogs and cats met on the walks (she and Kim share space with civility rather than enthusiasm, although they huddled on the same dog bed during the fiesta fireworks) and slowly grasping that dogs met want to sniff under her missing tail, not attack the stump. She lived so much in solitude that she likes lots of alone time but she grasped the simple house routine almost immediately. While she barely lifts her head enquiringly when I visit at random intervals (she adopted the laundry, which is a separate room, as her favourite haven, or the upstairs patio  when the washing machine is being noisy) she is up and eagerly waiting at playtime in the late afternoon, and for the walks at 9 am, 3 pm, and 9 pm. She’s recovered from both surgeries and finished her meds and the only remaining goal on her checklist is to get her a bit more confident about exploring, especially when she is invited into ‘strange’ places – like my part of the house! She panics and flees for the terrace and her laundry. She still doesn’t seek stroking, was stiff and awkward at first with cuddles, now enjoys them very much and is a bright, lively, pretty little dog, so very ready to give and receive love.

The risk of course with fostering is that it becomes unbearable to give the dog up and you end up adopting – a ‘failed’ foster! But I can’t offer a young dog years of activity and will be content to have played a small and useful role in their lives, while I wait for my next dog to find me, either an older foster or whatever fate has in store. And if one doesn’t – que sera, sera. For now Kim and Leia are helping me through a bad patch at least as much as I am helping them. Grateful thanks to GADAH (Give a dog a home) and Valle Verde for their support, and to Leia’s rescuers for transforming her life.