The pet effect

AS I write, Ferdy, our black, woolly, teddy bear-esque miniature schnauzer is sprawled on the floor fast asleep next to my desk. Don’t take this, however, as a sign of indolence - he’s been pretty busy this morning. He started with some recreational barking at the Amazon delivery driver, went on his morning walk to the park where he left several pee-mails for future canine visitors and then sauntered back home for breakfast. He deserves his rest.

The phrase “it’s a dog’s life” used to denote a miserable, unhappy existence. It is believed to have originated in the 17th century when, of course, dogs were treated rather less indulgently than they are today. When they were treated more like dogs, in fact, and not as a revered member of the family.

Ferdy – short for Ferdinand (not my choice and something I feel the need to explain every time someone asks his name), certainly knows his position in our domestic hierarchy: right at the pinnacle. He is such a never-ending topic of conversation I often wonder what my family and I talked about before he came into our life.

He is certainly a quirky character. For example, he refuses to sit on tiles, wood, lino, vinyl or any other hard surface you might find in your house. He’ll just hover until a softer, preferably carpeted, spot can be secured. And he will not cross the threshold if he senses that there might be so much as a spit of rain for fear of getting his feet wet.

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Ferdy came into our lives, like so many puppies up and down the country, at a time when we were discomfited by the pandemic; when the world was a weird, unfamiliar place and when the presence of a dog – loyal, lovable and non-judgmental – provided a comforting balm to the constantly unfolding horrors of Covid.

For us, this was particularly poignant as we brought Ferdy home on my Grandad’s 79th birthday, exactly a week before he lost his fight to prostate cancer and Covid. Grandad contracted the virus in hospital and this put paid to any hope of further life-prolonging treatment. For this reason there will always be a special connection between the two of them.

Rather than leave the new puppy with strangers we felt compelled to bring him along to the funeral which at that time was restricted to just 15 people (but, as far as we knew, there seemed to be no rule for dogs...). Nobody batted an eyelid and there wasn’t a squeak out of Ferdy during the service. In fact he was a very welcome distraction at a very difficult and distressing time.

So, given my affinity towards this little ball of fluffiness I, like so many others, could empathise greatly with the family who recently lost Baloo, the Newfoundland from the Ballymena area. I know how difficult it must have been on first discovering their beloved pet was missing and the subsequent turmoil they clearly endured during the week-long wait - which sadly ended in the worst possible news.

The fact that we invest so much time, love and emotion in our pets means that their loss can be hugely devastating, especially for those who rely on their animal companion for company.

According to the #NotJustADog campaign by Dogs Trust “over half of dog owners felt the grief they experienced after losing their dog was similar or worse to the loss of a family member, with a further 38% stating they were surprised by how deeply they were affected”.

In recent times there have been increased calls for employers to offer compassionate leave to employees dealing with the death of a pet, which before Ferdy when I was living in dogless ignorance, I would have mocked but now completely understand.

So thank you to Ferdy and all the other life-enriching, adorable, loyal and loving animal companions out there supporting our mental health and wellbeing. Perhaps they deserve an extra treat or two this weekend.