Well, it started the day just before Christmas 2008, when I went to the Dogs Trust in Snetterton. After losing our old family dog Barney the Lab that autumn I had missed having a dog to at least visit at weekends dreadfully, and had finally plucked up the courage to ask my landlords for permission to keep a dog of my own. As recommended by all right thinking people, I had carefully researched breeds, and had come to the conclusion that a greyhound, or maybe a lurcher, would fit into my life beautifully. I was all fired up to see what skinny dogs they had to offer me.
After filling in the forms designed to make sure I at least had some clue what I was letting myself in for, I was allowed into the kennels to look at the dogs ready for rehoming. I'll tell you now - be prepared for an emotional trip if you do this. Even though the Dogs Trust kennels are bright, clean and cheerful it is still hugely sad to see so many dogs that have ended up homeless for one reason or another - and very, very tempting to try and take all of them home.
In the interests of being sensible I carefully selected a couple of sighthounds to ask about, and headed back to the desk. When I got there however, it became quickly apparent that neither of these dogs would suit - I needed a dog which would come to work with me and share an office with a terrier, which these dogs, with their drive to chase small furry creatures, could not do. I must have looked completely crestfallen, or perhaps not anything like a potential sighthound owner, because the lovely lady offered to come and look through the kennels with me to see if another dog might do.
Which is how ten minutes later I first met Henry, then known as Sammy. I had seen him in his kennel and thought he looked a lovely, happy (and tubby!) dog but had discounted him as he was wearing a buster collar - I didn't want to lose another dog so soon after Barney. It turned out that there was nothing wrong with him other than having just been neutered (What do you mean 'nothing'?! Didn't feel like nothing to me - Henry), so after chatting about him and whether he would suit the life I led, he and I headed off down the road to get acquainted. Two things became instantly obvious - that he had no idea of how to walk on a lead politely, and that he loved to be out and about! After we got back I sat outside the centre with him, waiting for someone to come and take him back to his kennel, stroking his head, promising him that a home with me would be a home for good and fighting the temptation to stick him in my car there and then and speed off in a squeal of burning tyres and a plume of smoke (Well that's how you normally drive - Henry).
Of course it wasn't quite that simple - although Sammy was now reserved for me I had to go back and meet him several more times, obtain permission from my landlords in writing as opposed to the verbal ok I had, and have my home checked to see that the fencing was secure and that I had considered how a dog and all the inevitable equipment all dog owners end up collecting would fit in. Then I had to wait until the holidays were over - like many rescue centres the Dogs Trust will not rehome over Christmas, as dogs need peace, quiet and routine to settle into their new homes. I had decided Sammy was not a name that suited him, so I had to pick a new one - Henry was my mum's suggestion and it was a name that stuck. Then of course there was all the shopping that needed doing: this was slightly hindered by moving from a Lab to a spaniel and having no real idea of what size anything needed to be. Poor Henry rattled around his new bed like a pea in a bucket!
And so, on 3rd January 2009, Henry came home with me for good. Things were never going to be the same again!
Henry, the spaniel formerly known as Sammy, the day I met him. Happily, there is much less of him these days!
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