ight months with a BMD - 
rose by any other name

Officially her name is Bess - to be more precise, Nottsbess from Meadowpark - Bernese Mountain Dog extraordinaire. Ten months old, and just over six stone of good-humoured exuberance, a lethal left hook, and the unwavering conviction that everyone - canine or human - cannot fail to adore her as much as she adores them.

For the first few weeks, however, she tended to be referred to as Godzilla (self-explanatory, think of those sharp puppy teeth), even answering to it on occasion, and since then has gone through as wide a variety of nick-names as stages of development. (Author's note: I realise that by now all dog training experts are shaking their heads and clucking derisively - I can assure them that she has suffered no self-image crisis because of this, quite the reverse... she knows darned well who she is!)

The 'Paddington' era came next; devotees will know the stare this children's favourite employs to unsettle strangers. Car drivers would pull up behind us at traffic lights, see her in the back, smile and point, only to be met by a baleful glare. You could see them look vaguely uncomfortable and drop their eyes, unwilling to stare her out. Then they would find something else to talk about, and doggy honour was satisfied.

'Muppet' followed - all that fluff and cute expression - some unkind people agreed and muttered specifics, 'Animal' to be exact, but she treated that with the contempt it deserved and loved them just the same.

As the weight, clumsiness and tail plume increased in size and destructive quality, other epithets were applied. As she happily gallumphs down the passage to visit my Mother she is greeted by the cry 'Hello Wumper' - very descriptive - and has variously been labelled Thumper, Monster Pup, Hopalong Catastrophe (a cruel reference, don't you think, to a period of lameness), and more recently, Beastly Bess. This latter could have been coined by my daughter's energetic Labrador who hides when he sees Madam cavorting towards him - but it wasn't. I hope the originator reads this and is duly ashamed - but he won't be!

Strangely enough, her gardening habits have not yet brought forth any suitable pseudonyms. She is adept at pruning - a six foot lilac now boasts six inches above the ground, my prized azaleas and other assorted plants are reduced to shreds, the lawn has been 'deep dug', and she has just discovered the delights of having a pond. We are seriously thinking of hiring her out for landscaping.

They say we give nick-names to those we love and this, then, must be the case, for whoever she is, in these last few months she has taken over our house and our lives - and who cares?

A rose by any other name........

January 1989

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