He is still with us. He has been away for a month and come back, with manners.

Mum looked set for a lengthy stay in hospital at the beginning of December, and we could not have Kerry at home, because of my husband. And the cat. They both objected.

Kennels were the obvious answer to the problem.

“We’ve got to do it Mum.”

“It’s going to be so stressful for him though!”

“Yes, he’s going to be surrounded twenty-four hours a day by other dogs who he can’t kill.”

“Phone up a few kennels for me and see if any of them have isolation cages. There’s nothing else for it.”

Billy did find a local kennel for him, but in the meantime I had put a post up on Facebook with an attractive picture of him, asking if anyone would take him in for a while. A very kind man, Dave,  who had been in the same drama group as me in the 1970’s, since when we had not met, and his very kind wife Debbie, said they had lost their own terrier earlier in the year and would take him. I explained Kerry’s skin condition and his behavioural problems and they said no problem, as their dog used to bite them.

Kerry spent one night in the kennels before I took him over to their house. The kennels had good reviews, and the lady who took our call and took him in was pleasant, but its office was manned by a couple of tattooed human flesh pyramids, oozed over their office chairs like molten magma, lava lumps with flickering eyes and obsidian nails,

fuelled by tins of Celebrations, of which there were three open, along wth their Facebook pages on their computer screens, perhaps because it was December and Xmas was on its way 23 days later.  They were selective in their eating and left  the Bounty Bars. It was disheartening; I don’t like Bounty Bars either, and I was glad to pick Kerry up the next day. He was subdued but ok,  and I was glad to take him away and over to his next home.

Dave and Debbie have a lovely rambling house and garden, with plenty to interest Kerry. They have lodgers and so there were lots of people coming and going to keep him entertained. Dave works from home so Kerry soon grew attached to him and lay at his feet while he worked. He was happy there and by all accounts not too badly behaved except at mealtimes when he demanded his share of their meals, so they put him in the garden.

It was ideal for Kerry, but all ideal things come to and end and Christmas was coming up, Mum was still in hospital, and Dave and Debbie were going to be doing a lot of visiting. Kerry needed another temporary home.

Billy did another internet search for kennels, but not that one. He found that several were full, with the holiday period right on us, others required a kennel cough vaccination, which Kerry hasn’t got, and the only option was the most expensive, at £23 a day and £80 for the Bank Holidays of which there were three. The place had marvellous reviews. And it was our only option.

I took him to Silverdale Kennels in Fetcham. The office was staffed by a normal person, business-like, but kind and interested in Kerry and his skin condition and potions, his hostility to other dogs,  and his dietary requirements. I said goodbye, and left him. When I picked him up a couple of weeks plus later, he was pleased to see me, happy, and had improved manners. Well worth all that money. £447.00.

No, really.

 

 

Kerry doesn’t think it was worth the money.