Now Published

Lurching Through London

The voyage of a narrow hound on a narrowboat

Lottie Lurcher has only been with her new owners for a few days when they take her cruising on their narrowboat.
Training her owners is tricky. Sometimes they forget what Lottie has taught them but she adores them and tries different tactics to win them over. Unfortunately her strength and enthusiasm lead her into trouble.
Will her new owners take her back to the dog rescue or will she persuade them that she is the perfect
hound for their narrowboat?

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read part of chapter 1 below

Day 1 Good Friday

Soggy doggy

“Cruising with a large lurcher could be a huge disaster,” my new owner sighed. He stopped the car, exhausted after driving in heavy motorway traffic, and stroked a strand of grey hair off his lined forehead. “We should have picked an older dog.”

“Being young she’ll adapt quickly,” his wife replied.

Please don’t send me back; I’m seven months old, not a puppy. I pushed my narrow chest between the front seats, slid my silky head under her hand and fixed my liquid brown eyes on her blue ones.

“What if she runs away?” he asked.

“So far she’s returned whenever we call her.”

I won’t run away - even though I tried to escape from Greystones Dog Rescue. The last three days have been bliss in my new home. My-Man likes exercise twice a day and Milady feeds me home cooked treats.

I leapt out of the car and almost plunged into a massive square pond. Pairs of cuboids, which resembled floating train carriages, rested on the water.

I relieved myself on the wide lawn while My-Man struggled with their bags.

“I’ll walk Lottie along the canal while you load Fine Chance.” Milady gestured to a blue unit with bright yellow roof and sides. She tied her blonde streaked hair into a ponytail, put on a grease-stained jacket, then clipped the extending lead to my blue collar.

“This way Lottie.” Milady opened a mesh gate onto a path running alongside a straight stretch of water. The canal had sheer sided banks and a uniform width, unlike a natural river.

I dragged Milady past more colourful cuboids eager to explore. What wonderful smells! Other dogs have been here recently; perhaps I’ll make new friends.

A saliva inducing scent wafted from one brick shaped unit, which was tied to the bank with sturdy ropes. I jumped onto a tiny platform attached to the far end. Bacon sizzled beyond a sturdy door covered in painted roses. I nosed the door open and...

“Get off that boat,” Milady hissed. She reeled in the extending lead and hustled me away as if I were a criminal. Behind us the door snapped shut.

Once clear of the boats she looked around furtively, and let me off the lead. Carefree, I sprinted along the trail.

A black and white collie approached me, then lay down indicating his desire to play. I mirrored his pose, my muscular hind legs splayed out awkwardly until his grey haired owner strolled up.

“What a lovely colour!” Grey Hair stroked my golden brown head.

Yes, I’m beautiful; better still I’m speedy. Ready, steady, go!

“Wow she’s fast,” Grey Hair cried as we hurtled back and forth.

“I’ll catch you,” Collie barked.

“You won’t,” I boasted. “My legs are longer than yours - my mother was a greyhound. I’m a racer.”

Recklessly I spun around, slipped on the muddy bank, then flew into space. Splash! The chilly water dragged me down.

“Help,” I yelped, “I can’t swim!” I thrashed my legs madly, stuck my nose in the air and tried to doggy paddle, but my deep chest pulled me under.

“Try to touch the bottom,” Collie woofed. I let my back drop, but the squidgy canal bed clung to my rear legs when I pushed down.

“Lottie this way,” Milady called. Seeing her reach out, I paddled with my front feet and kicked the muddy bottom with my hind paws.

“That’s it - keep going,” Collie barked. I floundered to the bank.

“I can’t get out,” I whined. Corrugated piling rose vertically from the water preventing me from reaching dry land.

Milady leaned over and hauled on my collar. I waved my front paws in the air until they hooked over the top of the metal bank and dug my claws in. She pulled so hard I feared my collar would break; but moments later I scrabbled onto the bank, splattering thick mud over her.

“Look what you’ve done to my coat,” Milady sighed.

“Come on - running will warm you up,” Collie woofed.

I shook muddy droplets into his face and raced away, leaving him lagging behind. Then I spun round and charged at him. Collie flinched and ducked to one side.

“Chicken,” I teased.

“Water Rat,” Collie snarled. Grumpily he trotted back to his owner.

Lottie is friendly, adventurous and sometimes finds herself in deep water even though she is not the best of swimmers.

Lottie loves exploring the canals.
Recently she had an animated conversation with a swan while I cowered against the fence. She woofed, the swan hissed in her face and I called her back. She returned wagging her tail unaware of the danger she had been in.
Perhaps she thought the swan was being friendly when it waggled its tail back at her.