Letting the train take the strain
(Or how NOT to terrify people with a Rottweiler on public transport)
by Marston York and Molly
Monday’s are funny days, really.
You’ve had a weekend to relax and recover from the previous week. Ideally
you’ll have slept, fed, succumbed to a pleasant degree of inertia with sporadic
forays into “activity” depending on family and canine requirements and gone to
bed in the certain knowledge that tomorrow’s just another day, only with work
in it! It’s almost a utopian view, that. But I’ll use it in the same way
financial institutions, businesses and governments stipulate 2.4 kids per
family, or something.
So, Monday morning, I set off for
a stroll with Molly, our 3 year old Rottweiler. There was nothing extraordinary
about it. A little bit of road work, seeing and weeing (or “replying all” to
pee-mail as it’s known locally) and then up to the park for wandering, running,
sniffing, seeking and generally having a good morning run. Molly likes doing
that, too.
Returning home, I discovered that
the jangle in my pocket when I patted it as I left the house, was not my keys,
but 2 low denomination coins. Ah, I thought. It’s alright, we have a number of
spares about the place, I’ll get on the phone. I quickly discovered that the
closest set was currently secreted in my sister in law’s handbag in an office
near Waterloo Station, in London.
And with everyone I knew either
at work or on holiday and too far away to look after our gorgeous dog, there
was only one thing for it. Molly would have to take the train!
Far from being a panicked moment
of hysteria or horror, this suddenly seemed perfect. The weather was lovely,
we’d missed the commuter traffic and my wife and I had been talking about
taking Molly on public transport for a while. The difficulty, as we saw it, was
not that we would be going on trains and buses with a dog, but rather our fear
of the reactions of other passengers when presented with a Rottweiler as a
travelling companion.
Molly is VERY friendly. She’s a
smiling, happy, tongue-lolling gem. To us. To some others she is a huge,
terrifying, snarling, slavering hell-hound dog like the ones they read about in
the papers that eat families whole and destroy small cities! (I’m not belittling the horrific injuries
that have been inflicted on people by some dogs in certain circumstances and
environments in any way, it’s just that I believe there is too much hysteria
about certain breeds). So taking her on
the train into central London was going to be an adventure.
When people meet Molly they are
often very nervous. She is a big dog and Rottweilers do have a reputation. The
most dangerous thing about Molly is her tail. It’s the perfect coffee table
clearing implement and has been known to lay low the unaware from toddlers to
small trees! However, a couple of minutes in her company is normally all anyone
requires to allay their fears. And so it was on the way to London Bridge. She
was excited and interested but perfectly behaved, remaining close to me and
staying very settled despite the numbers of people, the noises, the smells, the
sights and, most importantly, the enormous trains! Ears pricked, tail up she
was very alert and very inquisitive. No bad thing. But other than one errant
lick of a stranger’s hand - HE apologised, which I thought was not only very
polite but very English, too – she startled no one.
It was the same when we crossed
the bridge at London Bridge to get to the Waterloo East platform. She stayed
alert but didn’t try to rush off, bark or growl at anyone or anything. It was
only while waiting for the train to Charing Cross that that I suddenly thought,
“what if she pees? Oh god, what if that’s not all she does?” Well, that’s what
poo-bags and apologies are for. We’d even just invested in wet wipes, so all
was well. As it was I needn’t have worried.
The adventure was just getting
better, both for Molly and for me. There were even more people on the train to
Charing Cross and she sat, nearly relaxed, on my feet while I stood at the door.
More licking; more appreciative looks; more nervousness wiped clear by a
wagging tail and a happily lolling tongue. I could not have been prouder – or so
I thought.
Waterloo was full of people and
there were even more distractions from announcements, food stalls, coffee
stands, rushing commuters. Having made that trip so many times for work, I was
seeing it in a totally different light. This was excitement and intrigue, new
smells, new friends to make; so much to take in. And through it all she stayed
right next to me, nearly to heel but barely tugging on the leash. Both of us, I
suppose, offering comfort and control to each other.
Once outside we had a quick walk
to the South Bank to collect my sister in law’s keys (absolute life saver, she
is!) and that was when it was decided that not only was this going to be a
train adventure, it was also going to be a sightseeing one. And we took in
every sight possible from the National Theatre to London Bridge station along
the river side.
Everywhere we went there were
hordes of tourists and workers taking breaks or rushing to meetings. Molly was
entranced by the river – she’d seen the sea and some very large ponds and a
lake, but never a river as big as the Thames – and she was very excited about
seagulls and pigeons. That was really the only time she ever pulled on the
lead. Even then, most people just laughed at the silly man trying to stop his
dog from chasing birds. And every one smiled at her. We got so many
appreciative nods and smiling “hellos” from random strangers. One person even
asked “is that a real Rottweiler, it’s so calm and happy?” As an example of her
breed, she’s, well, she’s just one of her breed. But we think she’s lovely!
Just as an aside, following
another headline about a dog attack in the papers, I asked a few of the people
I regularly meet when walking Molly, if they knew of anyone who had a badly
behaved Rottweiler. No one did. Now, I know there are some. But there are
probably fewer bad ones than any other breed of dog, specifically because there
are those who are so frightened of them, their owners intend for them to be the
best behaved dogs in the park.
Tourist Molly appeared to be
having a whale of a time, from posing outside the Globe Theatre to standing
guard outside Nandos near Borough Market.
But the unstoppable Moo was getting tired. She even lay down at my feet
when I bought my ticket, despite the squeaky trolleys and clanking from trains
on the various platforms at London bridge.
Molly’s return was as uneventful
as you could possibly imagine. A practically empty train and a 5-seat all to
ourselves. Well, she is a Rottweiler!
When we arrived at our stop, I
discovered yet another advantage to taking a Rottweiler on public transport.
You know that moment when you try to get off a train but some self-centred
numpty decides to get on first? Yeah, that doesn’t happen when you’ve a Rotty
by your side! All Molly did was sit and wait until I told her to move. I could
have kissed her.
And as a result, I wrote this.
For all my fears about other peoples’ perceptions of my dog, the hard work,
consistency of training, love and affection that my wife and I have given Molly
has not only paid off, but been returned ten-fold. I could not be prouder of my
Rottweiler. And for a rescue dog with a bad start, this is a fantastic result.
And what an adventure! Next stop?
Well, who knows… Search And Rescue could well be on the cards.
