Podenco

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A sad farewell – and hello hello

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.

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#Living with a podenco – 3rd year

I glanced back over the earlier Purdey blogs and don’t think I ever said she turned out to be 5 years old when we checked her chip – so she’s now around the 8 mark, not slowing down noticeably yet.  She still springs about in delight when either the harness or a food bowl appears, adores going for walks with guests, and has some friends in the village who take her on their hikes every now and then. Those are BIG outings for her, usually around 2 hours, and she sleeps like a log for the rest of the day. Until she hears me lifting down the harness or even heading towards the front door – ooh, another walk! Yay! I do walk her three times a day anyway but I boringly stick to the streets and rarely head out into the campo. Increasingly on those guest walks the guests are hailed by her buddies in the village who stop to say hello to her and to the person holding the lead . . . she’s become something of an asset, especially for guests staying here on their own, taking them under her wing and doing all she can to make them feel at home.

Right now she’s in the process of preparing for kennels as I am away shortly for a long weekend and can’t take her. She’s had a playday there, will have another this week, then a sleepover, to be sure we have a go. My last dog had been from a rescue shelter and hated all kennels with a passion, refusing to eat and losing fur at an alarming rate, and there will be no more coming back to a bald and wild-eyed pet if I can help it. She can be taken by one of her hiking friends if it doesn’t work out. She enjoyed the playday, I think, at least didn’t drag me to the car in her hurry to leave . . .

As always these podenco blogs are aimed at anyone considering taking in a working pod which has been abandoned. There WAS a sudden glitch or two in the last year which may or may not ever appear again – usually when I come home there’s the dance of delight but three times she has instead shot past me and gone, ignoring calls and whistles, although her recall otherwise is now faultless. Each time she’s been found poking round bins, or wistfully eyeing people eating at restaurant cafes, and each time she’s been happy enough to be brought home but hadn’t been heading back here under her own steam. The second time she was out all night. Somebody walking past whistling a familiar tune? A voice in the street she recognised? Weeks or even months passed between these odd involuntary excursions, and the last time was several months ago. In every other way she is a happy robust affectionate dog with friends and admirers and only now tries to nip people who walk unannounced into my private part of the guesthouse, (which I don’t have a problem with) and she backs off instantly when I tell her no.  Would I still recommend a podenco? In a heartbeat.

She no longer steals food but if she did …
Taking a guest for a walk

Bred to hunt down rabbits and hares, keeping a lookout

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Living with a #podenco, nearly 2 years in

It’s coming up two years (in November) and time for an update on living with a podenco, the Spanish hunting dog used for running down rabbits and hares, for anyone thinking of adopting one of these lovely sighthounds, especially a rescued working dog which has usually lived out.

Purdey loves little rituals, which become cast in stone – when I return from shopping I unpack the bags against the door, then open it so she can charge out and leap into the back of the car where she waits, trembling with expectation, while I transfer the shopping inside. Then we go find parking and detour into a brief walk on the way home. Not exactly exciting, but she loves it. She loves life generally, everything except thunder and bangs, which bring her trembling under the desk. She was five when we found each other and all I know of her background was that she started life as a hunting dog and three of her owners were hunters. She’s had at least one litter, possibly every time she came on heat although if a dog is too insistent (they still are, although she’s now spayed) she sits down firmly, removing temptation, and snaps crossly at him. No way José.

It seems likely she was never a house dog before, and very timid about coming indoors, but she decided eventually that anything the cat could do was surely legal. Ideal homes for them are large busy families, not single old ducks like me, but I own a guesthouse so there’s usually something on the go. Occasionally paying guests bring dogs with them – she was utterly fixated by a visiting Chihuahua which was very patient about being sniffed from nose to tail every time it appeared. Another guest brought a miniature Doberman which adored her and wouldn’t leave her alone, I’d find her sleeping in a hiding place while the little visitor searched anxiously for her. The very first guest dog was a particularly massive Newfoundland – even I was taken aback by its size. When I let her out she charged upstairs to see what was happening, took one startled glance, and charged back down, but they got on well during his stay. He was a gentle giant, still very young, and delighted to find my last dog’s neglected basket of toys. Purdey hadn’t understood the concept of play until then and now has a favourite teddy. She’ll also now chase a ball (and sometimes bring it back). Mainly she loves attention. She’s not a pest, but is radiant when being stroked and as for grooming, would probably stand rock still to the end of time so long as the brush kept moving.

What am I supposed to do with this?

Sometimes guests borrow her for walks or even dawn runs, both of which she heartily approves. Some guests bribe her with scraps when they are cooking (strictly against rules), but some shout at her to go away when she pokes her nose round the apartment door, and she skitters downstairs looking embarrassed and avoids them from then on. I worried about taking on a breed which needed lots of exercise and company but the walks are good for both of us  and she seems to enjoy the turnover in visitors. Sometimes when a favourite guest is leaving I fancy the glance she gives me says well, we tried our best, maybe next time but then I am a writer and have an over-developed imagination.

She leaps about like Tigger when I lift down the lead and harness, and is always up for adventure – if I get to my feet, any time day or night, she’s instantly alert, those enormous ears pricked, amber eyes glowing. She’s friendly, loving, eager to please, but when I’m busy she’s quite happy to head up to the patio to sunbathe, or to my bedroom for a nap. She hates baths and she hates the sea, fleeing in panic from waves. She’s swum (politely, with a guest) in the river, but generally loathes getting wet, possibly because her wiry coat takes a while to dry even with a towel. Rainy days are few and far between here but those are our shortest walks, and she’s turning for home with a pleading look even as I’m bending down with the baggie.

Because she has way more energy than I do, we worked on her recall until now I can let her off the lead to gallop in open areas. She’s even learned that if another dog comes into sight, especially one on a lead, she has to resist temptation and return to her own lead before introductions, if they happen at all, are allowed. That was essential, as Spanish dogs aren’t generally as sociable as, for example, UK dogs, and are usually on the lead for a reason, especially in the open.  They react in different ways to a pod galloping up to say hello. Some stand rockstill, frozen in shock, some launch straight into an attack, and some are delighted and the two end up having a romp while we owners make laboured Spanglish conversation. She’s very, very, good with other dogs, and very firm, tolerating no more than a polite amount of sniffing before pointedly putting a stop to it. We were on a street walk, on the lead, when a very angry terrier launched itself teeth first from a doorway. She owned him in about four seconds flat and had him on his back crying out in fear while she stood over him making dreadful noises into his face. She was in complete control of herself and the situation, and didn’t so much as nip him as she terrified him into good manners. She’s never started a fight, defends herself with vim and vigour when another dog turns hostile, but doesn’t hang about, using her hunting speed to remove herself from danger. She can jump like an ibex, from a standing start, and is surefooted on high walls or rocky terrain while I’m still palpitating with shock.  She’s in her element, of course, when back in the campo.

Hunting for rabbits – luckily, none around

That’s something to remember, anyone wanting to adopt a pod needs good fencing especially as they are the most inquisitive dogs ever hatched – she’s left in my apartment while new guests arrive, in case they aren’t dog fanciers, and can be seen through the glass door leaping up to five feet in the air while booming out her enormous challenging bark. When she’s let out to be introduced (as she has to be, even to the non dog fanciers since she has to know this lot are allowed in the house) she’s suddenly timid and diffident, then warms up to them by the day if they’re the right sort, and again that shared glance when they leave, as leave they must . . . she adores family visiting because they come into “our” space.

Family in “our” space are firm favourite

There were initial hiccups, to be expected. Even with 3 meals a day, she scavanged at first, still in “who knows when the next meal will come” mode. Although she has no animosity towards cats, anything darting away had her in automatic pursuit – she’s a sight hound, bred to chase. And she was and is stubborn when she thinks she knows best. I’ve previously nearly always owned bull breeds and know about bullheadedness but she doesn’t glower, she just – does what she thinks she should. This stubbornness makes some think them stupid but in fact once they have worked out what it is that you want, and why (logic matters to them) they are willingness itself. She is highly intelligent, clean in her habits, independent, loving, and far more protective of me than I’d expected from an initially timid dog.

I really wasn’t sure I was doing the best thing, for either of us, but she was in desperate need of a home and it turned out we needed each other. Thank you for reading to the end, perhaps you are doing so because you too are thinking of adopting a podenco. She is an enduring delight.