A striking book about dogs was reviewed in this newspaper by Eileen Battersby, herself quite expert in that area. It was called: Dogs That Know When Their Owners Are Coming Home. Instant reaction of one owner was: "Yes, this dog of ours hears the car when it turns into the avenue and immediately hides the jamjar, the contents of which she has guzzled, behind the cushion in the sitting room, or even in the Master's chair. Mind you, the jar is licked dazzlingly clean. It might have been through the washing machine. She does have the grace to crouch down in front of you and beat the carpet with her tail, as if to say `sorry, I've done it again'. You tell her she's a good girl and to forget it. Just resolve that when she's left alone in the house, even for a short time, every scrap of food must be put away safely. Surprising how often you overlook something. Even raw potatoes in the sink. Surely she wouldn't? She would and has done. But she is a brilliant watchdog. Her vocal repertoire is extensive, from savage machine-gun barking of the most aggressive kind to a kind of wolf-howling to show despair when she's not being taken out in the car." How much our lives are dotted with memories of dogs. One young boy used to be accompanied to his first preparatory school by Peg, a Kerry Blue bitch of an unusually sweet temper. It was over a mile to school - walking, of course - and for the first few days she sat inside the school gates, where there was some cover, and waited until the boy came out before lunchtime to go home with him, trotting along comfortably, duty well done. After a time the parents decided it was too hazardous for the dog to be left alone so near traffic and by some subterfuge got the boy off on his own.
Later came a Dalmatian, probably the most remarkable of them all. He was both protective and intelligent, but insisted on one ritual: after the meal at night, the dishes cleared away, he sat up by the sofa and demanded his evening conversation. He would start by making soothing noises in his throat, the signal for the talking to begin, for the days events to be reviewed and finally to tell him what a fine chap he was. He kept his eyes moving from speaker to speaker as their turn came, voiced his approval or interest, made his own contribution - no barking, just gurgling sounds in his throat or lower in the chest. After about ten minutes he signified that he was satisfied and curled up in his bed. There were several others, before and after: he was the most remarkable.