I read his notes out loud. “Markus is a happy, lively and inquisitive little boy who likes to play and have fun. He is normally lovable and friendly but if provoked may react aggressively. Markus needs clear boundaries and sensitive handling, as on occasions he has been known to bite.”
“What have you got to say about that?” I ask.
He sits, looks up at me through sad, brown eyes and whines in remorse.
Let me be clear: Markus is not a child, he is a cross-bred chihuahua. But there are certain traits, such as his repetitive attention-seeking, his diminutive stature and a tendency to nip, that remind me of McCartney. That is why I adopt a teacher-like attitude towards his efforts to persuade me of his innocence: “I will judge you on your behaviour, young man, and not on any pathetic attempts to plead repentance.”
It is Sunday afternoon and I am with my daughter at an animal-rescue centre. She is trying to find a dog to adopt and has invited me along in an advisory capacity. As my last close encounter with a dog was two years ago (when I was bitten on the leg by a Jack Russell that objected to me cycling in the Peak District), I suspect that what she really requires is my experience as a primary teacher: she knows I’m good at recognising irritating behaviour traits and ingrained disobedience.
Disruptive dogs
Like children, dogs come in all shapes, sizes and personalities. Because Markus reminds me of McCartney, I persuade my daughter to put her emotions on hold while we consider a few other potential matches.
Affairs of the heart should be led by the head. To this end I propose an arranged union based on practical criteria such as a dog that’s small, not excitable, not prone to excessive barking, and fully house-trained. An ability to operate its own pooper scoop and/or become an internet sensation would be a bonus.
There is no shortage of potential canine suitors. There are dogs with a proud pedigree and dogs with more complex lineages. Dogs that like to show off and dogs that prefer to keep a low profile. Dogs keen to demonstrate the art of yogic flying and dogs that favour lying down in a sunny spot.
Wandering from enclosure to enclosure, I notice that some dogs have been housed in groups or pairs while others have been kept in solitary confinement. I assume this is to prevent the more disruptive ones from organising others into a marauding pack and causing chaos. I am just idly wondering whether these doggy isolation techniques could be humanely applied in an educational setting when we arrive back at Markus.
He instantly recognises us and, with a forlorn look, persuades us to take him for a little walk.
“Although he bit one of his previous family’s children, he’s not naturally aggressive,” says the lady in charge.
“All Markus needs is a calm environment and lots of positive reinforcement. In no time, you’ll have him eating out of your hand.”
That’s what we say about McCartney, too, but it doesn’t stop him biting it occasionally.
Steve Eddison teaches at Arbourthorne Community Primary School in Sheffield