A new aim in life

It’s seven years since we adopted Finbar. For seven years he has lived in town; his domain is bounded by the garden and stops at the front door. Every morning he has to be forced out of the house to go for a walk which isn’t a city pavement walk, it’s along the river and through the gardens where he has a whole pack of friends. Still, he has to be dragged out, trembling, because he’s afraid I won’t bring him back again. Now he has discovered Tamberlan, the farm named for some very mysterious reason after the Mogul emperor of Marlowe’s play.

Finbar now has a lot of meadow to call his own, and a small road that luckily only sees about six cars a day go past and a few walkers at the weekend. Because he has to charge over to them, barking just to let them know who’s field this is, and I have to go out and apologise. It’s a great way to meet people.


So now, he wants to be outside all the time, and when I say, time to go inside…



Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

45 thoughts on “A new aim in life”

      1. He came from a refuge in southern Spain, Andalusia. They do horrible things to Galgos there and even the refuges are often attacked because people despise these dogs so much. Finbar is an extremely lucky mutt ๐Ÿ™‚

    1. He loves it there. He can run. He’ll just go trotting off, then all of a sudden he’ll accelerate and he’s off, full pelt in a great wide circle until he’s worn out. Sight hounds are so single-minded!

      1. We had a terrified, rescued sighthound…Cindy…and aquired the field next to the house in Birstall. She ran like the wind and lived to a ripe old age.

      2. I like the symmetry in this story as it touches me. My grandma adopted a young lurcher and she was only happy when she was racing around the fields up at Fieldhead. My grandma couldn’t cope with her though (the dog pulled her off the bus once) and she took her back to the RSPCA. I was devastated.

      3. I can imagine.
        Cindy was found, tied up, starving and covered in sores and fleas. My mum put her in my brother’s pram and fetched her home. Our GSD got her eating again and they were inseparable.

    1. When we move in properly we will be. I want my bed there, not the Ikea put you up bed. And the lovely stone sink in the kitchen is very quaint and folklorique and all that, but it was designed for a dwarf…

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