The Dog House

Waffle’s not a big man for the TV, despite him spending more than enough time in the living room stretched out at his length not a scant yard from the telly. Were the device called a ‘smelly’ though, I’d bet good money Waffle would be all over it with his sniffy, wet nose and slobbery tongue.

No, aul Waff rarely deigns to lift his shaggy head in the direction of the old 32 inch in the corner as he is more attuned to pushing out big Z’s than watching Barra Best talking about the relentlessly poxy weather.

And yet, there are exceptions to the rule. Were a wolf to appear on the box, say, on the latest series of Frozen Planet, the aul Waff will slowly crane his neck around to see if perhaps his distant cousins will eventually manage to take down the fleeing Musk Oxen. This interest is especially piqued if and when Canus Lupis emits a long, keening howl into the night sky. Waff’s head will snap up in the direction of the box as if to ask in a mildly apologetic manner, “Sorry, what was that you said?”

At times like these I wonder if the Hound recognises that haunting yowl, even in a subconscious dictated to by his DNA. It’s certainly not a sound you’d have to recognise to know that its purveyor doesn’t really have great intentions on his or her mind – and that’s to say nothing of when the wolfish choir starts up en masse. If a body happened to be alone in the woods, that would be a choral calamity to have your underpants worried.

However, the biggest exception to the rule is a programme which I had hitherto un-watched until we happened across it before Christmas.

The Dog House is into its sixth series (I think) and notwithstanding Waffle’s attention, it has become compulsive viewing, even for me.

You may already be familiar with the concept, but for those of you who are not, it goes thus: Wood Green, The Animals Charity in Cambridgeshire in England endeavours to match abandoned dogs with loving owners and a forever home. Over the course of a single programme the viewer meets both the dogs and their prospective families as Wood Green staff try to make a match. It’s kinda like Blind Date except there’s a dog on the far side when the screen rolls back.

As you might also imagine, in a show featuring dogs, there’s a fair bit of yowling and barking going on and it is this cacophony which turns Waffle’s head – at least in the beginning. A dog couldn’t fart without Waffle springing to his feet, tail erect and ready for action of the bite-y kind.

“Sit down, dawg!” I’d say, finally losing patience after the tenth red alert. “Or your own forever home might take second thoughts.”

The crew at home all love The Dog House though and even I, old grumpy chops, have been known to enjoy an episode or two. It’s genuinely fascinating to see people – all different ages and characters – all yearning to have a new canine installed in their lives.

I also derive great satisfaction from commenting on proceedings, as the prospective owners arrive at The Dog House.

“Don’t do it, people!” I shout at the TV. “They’ll chunder and dump all round yer house!”

Some of them though, the prospective owners, that is, genuinely believe that there’s a dog-shaped hole in their lives.

“If only we had a dog,” they lament, “our lives will finally be whole.”

This gives rise to a lament from myself: “There’s a dog-shaped hole in my life and his name’s Waffle.”

Then there’s the long-suffering hounds who find themselves dumped off at the facility, some missing legs or eyes or ears or faces*, such has been their maltreatment. As cynical as I am, even old grumpy chops feels sorry for these poor wee buggers. Some have had a hard enough aul life, some have chronic health conditions and some are obviously nervous wrecks around people. But all are just looking for that forever home where they can snuggle up with their new owners or play fetch or simply sleep in front of Frozen Planet II.

The show has also given rise to a new conversation at home: Should we get another dog in the hope that it stops Waffle being a clown?

Despite my initial misgivings, I considered that there is probably some merit to that idea. Another dog would be a friend for him and would possibly stop him having to follow me everywhere I go, trying to trip me up. Another dog would help calm his nervousness and over-excitement and possibly help his general behaviour. On the other hand, the second dog (depending on the breed) might decide Waffle is a fool and eat him up.

Ultimately, it was decided that on the off chance that another dog would turn out to be another Waffle and therefore double the trouble, the concept of another dog was consigned to the Bad Ideas List. Then it was Tipexed out and the paper list scrunched into a ball and burned in the fire.

No, no, one Waffle is more than enough for any family.

Sometimes too much.

*narrowseyes*

* They all have faces. I made that part up.