Parisian Tails. Stephen Hayes

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СКАЧАТЬ week later with Paris at my side.

      I was the one to invite Hadrian and Paris into the house for the first time, wondering what would be the first thing that Paris did once she got inside. It turned out to be something I hadn't expected at all; when my dad, with whom I live, came around the corner into the lounge room to meet her, she immediately growled at him. She would warm to him very quickly, and he would become one of her favourite people in the world before long (probably because he gave her affection without making her work as I did), but that first growl was a moment we have collectively chuckled over ever since.

      The three of us (me, Paris and Hadrian) went for a good long walk on that first day, after which I was the most buggered out of the three of us. (My fitness wasn't exactly admirable at the time). The walk itself was uneventful as I remember, apart from Paris having a poo on the footpath at one stage. She only ever did that in the early stages of her working life; she was actually ridiculously-well toilet-trained, and I suppose I can thank her puppy carers for that. They sure as hell made my life a lot easier, because Paris's toileting habits were very easy to manage. She would never go in harness, after the first few weeks anyway; she would never go at university; she would almost never go when she was on the lead; and except for when she was sick, she would never go indoors (except for the pissathon, but that's several years down the track).

      Afterward, Hadrian sat down with me and my dad and told us a few things about Paris that we ought to be prepared for, such as the fact that Paris would need some time to adjust to her new surroundings, and that there may be some unusual behavior in that time, such as sloppy poos and chewing on things; but that it would settle down before long and things would be fine. This turned out to be the case; Paris only pooed two more times on training walks that I can remember, and after that, everything was golden (except for the Southern Cross incident, but that's still to come as well).

      As for the chewing, she did do a bit of that in the early days, such as ruining a good pair of headphones I had left on my bed while staying at the SEDA house, running off with a roll of toilet paper and making a mess of it through the house, and completely destroying a plastic stubby holder I drank soft drink out of and making an almighty mess of it under my desk. I was pretty annoyed at her for that, and actually gave her the cold shoulder for an hour or two, but in the end, she was rubbing herself against my legs and practically begging for my forgiveness, so I had to let her know that it was okay.

      Bonding Weekend

      I had another brief training session on Easter Saturday, but it was a much shorter walk this time. Paris and I were then left to our devices until Tuesday, when the two of us would go into the SEDA house for seven days. Before we were left alone, though, Hadrian brought me up on a couple of things I'd been doing wrong regarding Paris the previous evening. Firstly, as I'd been nervous that Paris wouldn't come to me when I called her, I had left her lead attached so that it would be easier to catch her if I had to. There were two things wrong with this: Paris might chew on it, and she might get tangled up in it, fortunately neither of which happened that night. It turned out not to be a problem, though, because Paris usually did come when I called her; and if she didn't, it usually wouldn't be too difficult to go and get her.

      Secondly, as a seeing-eye dog, Paris couldn't think that she could be allowed on the furniture, because it might make her think she could get on anyone's furniture. I had let Paris curl up and sleep in one of the armchairs in our family room prior to dinner on the Friday night without realising it was against the rules, just happy that she was comfortable and behaving herself. The funny thing about that was according to Hadrian, who had trained Paris herself, Paris knew the rules, but was happy to try to bend them wherever she could.

      That was one other thing Hadrian did before leaving me and Paris to our own devices: She filled me in on what she knew about Paris's personality. For instance, Paris would always try to please me and to make me proud of her when we were working. I noticed that because whenever she did something right while we were walking together, and I let her know that she had done well, I would feel her tail brushing my arm as she wagged it higher into the air. Another part of her personality I was told of, was her cheekiness; she was a very smart dog, but she would still try to break the rules if she thought she could get away with it. Her continually testing the boundaries would be a regular theme throughout her life, especially when it came to food.

      Another thing Paris loved to do, from the day we met to the day she died, was sleep under things, as if it were her own little cubbyhole. My desk and the kitchen table were regulars, but by far her favourite spot was under my dad's bed, which was just high enough for her to get in, but still so low that she would have bumped her head every time she raised it. To this day, I wish that she could have gotten under my bed, but the bed I had for the entire time I had Paris was too low to the floor for her to fit. When she could get away with it, she would occasionally try to sleep on my dad's bed, and would quickly jump down whenever she was caught as if to say, “Who, me? You didn't see what you think you just saw.” But the paw prints she left on the bed always gave her away.

      The rest of that long weekend was spent bonding, not just between me and Paris but also my dad and Alysha as well, the latter of whom didn't immediately take to the new family member. She made a rule that Paris could never go into her bedroom, and made sure that she always closed her door when she wasn't in there, so that any dog smell wouldn't pervade her room. It didn't take too long for Paris to lick and wet-nose her way into Alysha's heart, though, just as she did with most people she met.

      There was little to worry about, anyway, because Paris didn't really have much of a smell most of the time—at least in the early days. Granted, my bedroom, where Paris slept every night until 2014, would soon be defined by a canine smell that no air-freshener could defeat; but when she was clean, Paris didn't really have a dog smell at all. If anything, all her coat smelt like was just that: A fur coat. She would only get smelly if she had been recently licked by other dogs, or if she hadn't been bathed in a while. In the early days, she could go as much as a couple of months without a bath; then as time wore on, that interval decreased until in the last eighteen months or so, she would be a little smelly a week after having a bath.

      There was one other thing that Hadrian showed (or told) me how to do before leaving—I can't remember if it was demonstrated or if I figured it out myself. That was Paris's feeding regimen, which was specifically strict so that Paris, being a Labrador, would be kept in line, both in terms of her weight and her discipline while out working. It involved filling a cup of her food, of which SEDA had provided the first bag; tipping it into a bowl, which SEDA had also provided; and then blowing a whistle to tell Paris to eat, after making sure that she was dutifully sitting before the bowl and obediently not eating it.

      This process had to be done twice a day, and my routine quickly revolved around it. I would get up in the morning (around six o'clock, as that was the time Paris came to expect), let Paris out to go to the toilet, and then ready her breakfast. Then in the evening, I would give her her dinner as soon as I had finished my own, assuming we were at home and it were possible to do so. If we weren't, I would usually feed Paris as soon as we got home, even though SEDA told me I wasn't supposed to do that (in case she came to expect food every time we got home, no matter the time of day). This was one of the few rules I broke, mostly because it was just easier for me, and Paris was quite happy to go along.

      2012: Paris getting annoyed by master Stephen’s affections.

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