Rigby and Me

Image by mstephens7 via Flickr

For the last little while people keep asking me, have you seen Marley and Me yet? And when I answer no they say, well, you should. Well, last night I did.

In fact Rigby and me watched it together. For much of that time he was slouched on the floor chewing on a pig hoof, or laying beside me with his head in my lap, or worrying at my fingers nibbling at them or licking them and then having a go at my face. All pretty normal really.

I found so many parallels between Marley and Rigby. For a start they are both high spirited and energetic and their behaviours are near identical. Rigby may be a little better behaved, though it's strange to think that. Rigby now responds to most commands after a fashion, but you can see the conflict between obeying his beloved master and giving into temptation. Temptation wins sometimes.

Rigby has a distinct personality and can be challenging in nice ways. Often he'll jump up while I'm working with his paws perched on my arm and look at me intensely, his ears notched, challenging me to respond. More often than not he will suddenly lurch forward, trying to lick my face and engage me in some play. Other times he'll gaze upon me like that and then methodically, as if my body is a ladder to climb to get to my head, he will work himself up closer to my head by all possible means. He's pretty insistent.

There is a good deal of craziness in him, something which I gather chocolate labs are particularly known for. He never tires sometimes of chasing his tail. He'll bound up and down on furniture and under chairs as if he is competing in a frantic, wacky race. There are times when I pretend to be Frankenstein that really sets him off. His eyes widen and he gets on his haunches with his muscles tensed, before exploding into a mini leap and a confused but excited yelp. I'll desist, but for the next 10 minutes he does his own crazy thing.

My relationship with Rigby is similar to the relationship Marley has with Grogan in the movie. I talk to him all the time, which may indicate some instability on my part, but it seems natural. I explain to him the things going on as if he should know, I randomly philosophise to him and even tried to teach him English once. For the most part he looks at me quizzically as I'm doing this as if he's trying to understand, his head occasionally tilting to one side or another as if that side-on perspective makes my words all the more clearer. Between you and me I don't think he understands a word I'm saying.

We have got into particular habits with each other. Like most dogs, and certainly Marley, he likes to pick up things and carry them away. This can be a variety of objects within reach: a pen, a piece of paper I'm using as a bookmark, a loose shoe, a cap hanging from the door handle, and so on - my mobile phone is a favourite. Often the first moment you'll be aware of this is when he abruptly exits the room with a surreptitious air, his tail stiff like a flagpole. He knows he's not meant to do it, but gee it's fun.

Undies and socks are two of his favourites. In answer to the age old question about the washing, the odd socks don't disappear in some black hole in the washing machine - they've been squirreled away somewhere by the dog. I'm forever washing odd socks these days and hoping for their partner to turn up.

It is perhaps unwise but Rigby and I have made a little game of this. It's amazing how quickly dogs recognise routines, and respond to them. Each night when I'm undressing for bed I'll take my sock halfway off, at which Rigby, with great excitement, will seize hold of the loose end with his teeth and wrestle it off. Then we'll repeat the process for the other. This is great pleasure for him, and often causes me to laugh aloud.

Then when I'm about to climb into bed he becomes very alert and at the last moment will try and grab at my foot with his little paws and his mouth before it slips under the covers. I don't know where this came from, or why, but it has become a little game between us.

He generally settles down at that point and will lay beside the bed while I read, before trotting out to sleep on the expensive and comfy Persian rug in the hallway, or on the futon in the study.

Each morning around 6.45 he rouses himself and returns to the bedroom. He stands by the bed just looking at me in the darkness until I respond to him. Normally I'll just say to him "gotosleep", a phrase he recognises, and he'll wander out again to return 20 minutes later. At some point, against my best intentions, I'll give in to him and he'll leap up on the bed to join me.

This is great pleasure for him - less so for me. I think it's a bit like the kids wanting to climb into bed with mum and dad - well this is pretty much the same. He snuggles into me, ensuring that his body is in contact with mine through the covers and often positioned so that the bulk of his weight is leaning against me. I've woken sometimes to find he has sidled closer to me and put his head on the pillow next to mine.

This is all his own doing. It's almost as if he's thought to himself that H needs his sleep and I shouldn't disturb him, but that from 7am he's fair game. It's a habit I'm trying to break him of, but I don't think it's going to happen for a while.

Of course the complicating factor with all this is when I have a guest overnight. He always loves new people being around, and generally they love him. For him it's pretty much double the pleasure, and if he modifies his behaviour at all it is to switch his attention to the novelty on the other side of the bed - good for me, but not always completely appreciated otherwise.

The other thing about him is how he communicates with me. He yawns loudly, extravagantly, like a man rousing from a deep and satisfying sleep stretching his arms. Well Rigby will often do it as he wakes, but he does it so much more often when he's wide awake. Generally it seems intended to get my attention, something he can never have too much of. Sometimes I'll respond in kind and occasionally we'll exchange them as if we're in competition with each other.

Watching the movie last night reminded me of Rigby, and it also reminded me of the golden Lab I grew up with, Benji (a name WE made popular). Gee I loved him, and watching last night was reminded of him by the relationship between Marley and the kids. We used to on walks together, him trotting by my side happily, surreptitiously looking out for me. He was a beautiful looking dog, Golden Chariot was his pedigree name. The day he died was one of the saddest of my childhood. He had been a Christmas present to my sister and me, and he died 13 years later on Christmas day. I cried and cried, and last night as I watched Marley die that all came back to me.We shared a moment.