'Love, and a bit with a dog'
I was skeptical at first, but having a canine third-wheel around can actually enhance your relationship. Even when he farts like a volcano
There’s a moment in the 1998 Oscar winner Shakespeare in Love where the bumbling producer Philip Henslowe summarises what Elizabethan audiences are looking for from a Shakespeare play. “Comedy. Love, and a bit with a dog,” he says “That’s what they want.”
And dogs do have a way of lighting up rooms and defusing situations. They’re open-mouthed, happy, silly little jesters, reminding us that we’re just animals at heart; maybe we could be happy with such simple pleasures, too. I know this because my love story came with a big dose of dog, and it’s been quite a ride ever since.
When I met G, he already had a one-year-old puppy. I should say at this point, I love dogs; there’s nothing I wanted more when I was eight and poring over a Dorling Kindersley Big Book of Dogs, memorising the vital stats of Irish Setters vs Border Collies (MAN, I was cool). But I would never have chosen to have a dog at this moment in my life, in this city. In your early-to-mid 30s, if you have any kind of hankering to reproduce, these are the freedom years ‒ the last few where you could conceivably bung £2,000 at a last minute trip to Japan or join your friend in Rio de Janeiro for New Year’s. You can go out day-drinking at 3pm and not get home until 3am, without a second thought of empty food bowls or sad pups. In an industry like mine, you have weekly events to drink free champagne and hop on monthly trips to European cities. A dog is a tie to home I would have resisted, if it had been a joint decision.
We nicknamed him Captain Cockblock for his uncanny ability to muscle his way into the most amorous situation
Yet, because G came as a two-for-one deal with Milo ‒ a very spirited black springador ‒ I unwittingly became a Dog Mom within months. It was an adjustment. We nicknamed him Captain Cockblock for his uncanny ability to muscle his way into the most amorous situation (he’s been banned from the bedroom his whole life, thankfully). And despite the negatives of living with a dog ‒ the necessity of daily walks come rain, shine, work madness or flu; a layer of black hair in every cranny of the house, including my beloved bathtub; his tendency to eat unidentified crap off of the pavement, leading to explosive stomach complaints; the incredibly pungent farts just as we sit back to watch a film ‒ Milo is irresistible. He is insanely cuddly. He greets you with 12/10 enthusiasm every morning, as well as when you’ve left the house for under five minutes. He’s the happiest any creature has ever been with a little park walk and a tennis ball. When you chat to Milo ‒ which, as a freelancer working from home, I often do ‒ he cocks his head and affixes you with a gentle amber gaze. He’s a great listener.
A now-common sight as I finish up an article
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At first (and this is me really admitting something now) I worried that I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone who had a dog. At the time we met, G’s dog ownership hinted at a lifestyle completely incompatible with my own. I’m fascinated by Londoners who commit to more than one houseplant, let alone a big, hungry zoomies-machine who will surely cost the earth in vet’s bills. I was zipping off on monthly jaunts to Madrid, Miami, the Maldives… I wanted to be able to say yes to last-minute hotel stays in Cornwall or Scotland, and take my date to swish dinners and launches while we still could. Fitting a dog into all that? I felt guilty before I’d even begun.
But Milo came along at a time in my life when I needed mellowing out, and in dozens of small ways, he’s made my life better. Taking a break from a frustrating project when working from home now means a big, nourishing cuddle or a hearty walk through the woods. Going out for daily walks is a must, not an option. Jumping in the car to go and visit friends and family is an exciting adventure, because Milo’s wagging tail tells me so. When G and I are sitting on the sofa watching TV, he wedges between us to perfectly fill the gap (ahoy there, Captain), then sleeps the most contented sleep you’ve ever seen, snoring gently between us.
I always thought this was a myth, but he’s very emotionally intelligent, too. When my mum called me to tell me that my grandma was dying, he came and found me, slumping into my lap in a way I’d never seen him do before. When I’ve been down or suffering with PMS, he knows just when to curl up on my feet for a bit of solidarity. When I’m working from home and he’s snoozing peacefully, it’s increasingly hard not to just curl up with him and take a nap. He’s excellent with small children, even when they’re pulling his ears or making him do tricks without coughing up on the treats. My own family absolutely adore him and he’s lucky enough to enjoy regular breaks and holidays with an indulgent aunty and “grandparents” who love having him.
Milo has helped us set the tone of our family
He is an absolute liability too, you understand. The labrador in Milo means he loses all rational thought when the smell of food is in the room, and will eat the most disgusting item on any given London pavement. (He once did a drive-by munch where he chomped the baby food off a baby’s spoon before their mother could get it to them. That was an awkward one.) The springer spaniel in him gets separation anxiety, leading him to whimper when we have a lie-in or pop into a shop for three minutes. He loves to chase squirrels and becomes mysteriously deaf to his owner’s calls when he’s zig-zagging between trees that contain them. He has a strange, particular kink for enormous horses, which has seen him run directly towards even the biggest set of hooves, as we all scream and wave in vain from the other side of the meadow.
But Milo has helped us set the tone of our family, a family we hope isn’t complete just yet. We want to be the pack that enjoys our food (tick), loves being outdoors and having a big, noisy group of friends or family over. Any kids that come along will have to fit into this (and there’s plenty of evidence that children from homes with dogs tend to be healthier and quicker to develop various skills). We love a mixture of mad running-about time and calm cosy time, and routine is important for making us happy ‒ both the four-legged resident and the two-legged ones.
Yes, this dog has tied me more to home, as I feared. And I’m not sure I’ll ever adore picking up warm poo before I’ve even had my coffee. But he’s also taught me that adventure awaits within a much smaller radius, and luxury can be settling down with a glass of wine and a 25kg ball of black fur on your lap. He’s a great stepping stone on the responsibility path towards parenthood. We just keep a candle handy for wafting away those farts.
