We took Meg to Instow, Devon. This is as close to dog-world as it’s possible to find in England. There are no signs, but I think it’s possible there is a rule somewhere which specifies that people are only allowed to visit Instow if accompanied by a dog. Most people seem to have two or three. There are dogs everywhere—straining against leads on the path along the waterfront, under tables in pubs and cafes, running along the disused railway cycle-route, charging across the beach. Dog Heaven. If you want to introduce a child or puppy to dogs, this is the place to come. (At night, under cover of darkness, when most people are inside, you can spot all the people with unsociable dogs—mostly the owners of German shepherd dogs—walking along the beach, avoiding snarly encounters with other more friendly dogs.)
Meg is great on trips to Instow. She travels really well in the car—no barking because she’s bored (which my previous dog did), she simply curls up in her crate and goes to sleep. At service stations there is lots to see and smell, so she walks next to me, does not chase cars (no idea why, maybe because they’re all moving slowly) and toilets when instructed. She is on full-alert, but also obedient. A rare combination for Meg.
We stay in a house near the beach which has a fully enclosed garden and hard floors; perfect for a dog. We always take a crate, because although I mostly trust Meg, I would hate for her to chew something structural. I also do not attempt to take her into pubs and cafes. She might be good, but she might not, so why risk it? She’s relaxed in her crate.
Meg loves the beach. We throw sticks, and all her attention is on those—she ignores the millions of other dogs on the beach, even when they run up to her. She charges across the sand, rushes into the water—her whole body is happy. A happy dog is beautiful.
Of course, perfection has limits when it comes to Meg, and getting her from the house to the beach was a nightmare. After the first visit, Meg knew that she loved the beach and was desperate to go there. She would sit in the hallway, staring at the door, telling us she was ready. Whenever we left the house Meg was completely overcome with excitement and used all her strength to rush us to the beach. Plus there were cars, which added to the tension. Plus there were other dogs barking–which although Meg doesn’t bark herself she is noticeably tense about. Therefore every time we walked to the beach, we had this leaping, yelping, twisting, tiger on the end of the lead. Other people (with well-behaved dogs) watched in horror and disapproval. It was at this point that Husband lied. We were having a particularly stressful walk to the beach and a couple stopped to watch, their faces full of fear and disapproval. They probably thought we were stealing a dog, or that Meg was a vicious monster. Husband looked at them and said, ‘She’s a rescue dog.’ Their expression changed instantly, they were full of sympathy and admiration for our kindness in taking on such a difficult dog. ‘She’s lovely really,’ I tried to say, ‘She just wants to chase the cars.’ The woman nodded kindly. ‘Obviously she has had a bad experience somewhere,’ she said. I was silent. The only bad experience Meg has had is that we never managed to train her properly–but I decided not to blow Husband’s cover. When we reached the beach, whatever switch in Meg’s brain that makes her uncontrollable turned off. She became a lovely obedient dog, focussed on sticks, obeying my commands.
Instow is on an estuary, so the water is usually calm. We look across the water to Appledore. At night the lights of the town shine on the water. An image of peace.
We stayed for a few days. We both had some work to do, and in between times we wandered across the beach, ate in pubs, went for long walks. It was a chance to recharge batteries, have a break from normal routine. I like visiting costal towns out of season, and we have visited Instow several times now. I love it. Although I’m not sure if I would be allowed to visit unless I had a dog…
Hope you have a good week and do not find it necessary to lie. Thanks for reading.
Love, Anne x
