Group therapy

For a start we were terrible Newfoundland custodians because we treated Wellington like a child rather than as a dog. By the time Wellington was a year old he ruled us, our home and everything else. That’s why we met Paul, the Dog Psychologist. When Paul rang our doorbell for the first time I said “You must be the Dog Exorcist…” “I’ve never been called that before” he replied.

Part of the programme of sorting us and Wellington out involved us attending group sessions which we called ‘group therapy’.

In one group therapy session we took the dogs for a swim on the end of very long ropes. Already a very accomplished swimmer, Wellington became quickly bored with splashing about on the end of his rope and focussed his attention on a small grey and white dog, who quickly made a beeline for the security of her owner, a slightly frail older gentleman.

When Wellington gave chase the small grey and white dog ran round its owner for protection, with Wellington in hot pursuit, both dogs still attached to their long ropes. With the old gentleman now neatly tied up Wellington veered away, pulling his latest victim off his feet…

During another group therapy session we were all sitting in a circle with our dogs and Paul was standing in the middle talking. Wellington soon got bored and began yawning more and more loudly until he finally dove across the circle and on top of a Golden Retriever who was quietly sitting with his owner on the other side…

We were thankful that we were never expelled from group therapy sessions.

Above - Wellington shortly after he moved in with us.

Michelle's Ride on the Rope

Michelle was a full time ‘mum’ to Wellington for a large part of his early years. She spent most of her days out walking Wellington and practising the techniques that we had learned from Paul. We had Wellington trained within two weeks; the remainder of our years together were simply a battle of wills.

One winter’s morning Michelle took Wellington for a walk on the long rope beside the Manawatu River. This day however, Wellington decided he would prefer a swim and made for the river sprinting as fast as he could, apparently forgetting his ‘mum’ was on the end of the rope.

Michelle was dragged on her stomach through muddy grass and puddles until she managed to swing around and use her legs to halt the bolting Newf. She walked home covered in mud from head to toe feeling that she had just played a cowboy who had been thrown from his horse and dragged through the prairie in a Western movie.

Needles to say Wellington didn’t get his swim and Michelle felt good because she had won today’s battle, knowing full well there were many more to come.

Favourite Games.

Wellington had three favourite games; tug of war, chicken and skittles.

Tug of war involved a rope toy. Wellington’s strategy to gain maximum advantage was to grab the rope toy at your end.

Chicken involved Wellington hurtling his 70 kilogram self at you full speed and veering away at the very last moment.

Skittles was pretty much like chicken, but there was no veering away at the last moment.

I shuddered once when Wellington ran at a one legged stranger on crutches at the beach. Fortunately it turned out that he was playing chicken and not skittles that day.

Above - Wellington enjoying a friendly wrestle with our friend Nic.

Mark

My brother came to stay with us and it became evident that Wellington really wanted to play skittles with him. Although Mark was very studious about not creating an opportunity, toward the end of his stay Mark was helping me push start our old car which had a flat battery. He was slightly bent over in a pushing position when Wellington charged from out of the blue and bowled him midriff for a perfect strike. Wellington appeared to be very pleased with his accomplishment, having waited a good two or three days for this opportunity.

At that time Wellington's job was bringing in our newspaper. When he brought the paper inside and gave it to either me or Michelle, he would stand by his biscuit tin, awaiting his reward.

One day during Mark’s stay Wellington had already brought the paper in and had duly been given his biscuit. On this day he spied Mark, who had got up slightly later, sitting at the breakfast table. Wellington came inside, reclaimed the paper which was still rolled in plastic and took it outside. In a minute or two he was back with the paper, which he gave to Mark. He then went and stood by his biscuit tin.

Left - Wellington with Mark in the early 2000s.

The Pet Expo

Members of our Newfoundland Dog Club were invited to bring their Newfs to a Pet Expo and as we felt it would be good publicity for the breed as well as a little fun we agreed to ‘exhibit’ Wellington.

As things were being set up on the first morning a mascot wearing a dog costume came by and stopped to give Wellington a pat. Wellington must have thought the costume was pretty hot because he put his paws around the mascot's neck and began humping it.

It turned out that the guy wearing Christchurch City Council Animal Control mascot costume was actually the man in charge of animal control.

Good thing that he had a sense of humour.

The Pet Expo was well attended and while some of the other Newfs chose to sleep through their shifts, Wellington was wide awake and alert the whole time, lapping up the attention. I think from his perspective it was more like a people expo, where new people and their young would come by to be inspected by him.

Wellington was in his usual sitting position when one woman came and crouched very close in front of him, looking at him directly in the eye. The temptation was way too great for Wellington who simply gave her a shove on her left shoulder with his mighty great right paw. She toppled over backward, losing the sunglasses that were pushed up on her head in the process.

Good thing that she had a sense of humour.

Birdlife

Our neighbours in Palmerston North were into birds in a big way and amongst other things, kept chickens. On the frequent occasions that a chicken would flap over our side all hell would break loose. One day I watched as a chicken dared to make its way over our side of the fence. The bird immediately sensed peril and managed to flap over our front fence to escape. Wellington, in hot pursuit, went straight through the wooden fence, taking the palings with him.

On another occasion we saw a neat line of fuzzy grey things on our lawn. On investigation we found these to be rare Blue Ducklings that had apparently travelled under the fence from next door. having stopped the ducklings in their tracks, presumably with a stomp of the paw, the birds were neatly arranged in a perfect row.

Halloween

Halloween was an exciting time for Wellington. In the subdivision where we lived at the time, the doorbell would go off countless times during the evening. Wellington would be first to the door and when it was opened there would be a group of startled children, all holding bags of goodies open.

From Wellington’s perspective Halloween was about kids coming to the door with goodies for him. If we weren’t quick enough, his nose would be in the closest bag and the kids would scarper with Wellington in hot pursuit…

Swimming in the sea

When we lived in Palmerston North we used to take Wellington to the beach most weekends in summer. Having learned to swim in the river, which was basically out our back door, he quickly adapted to the surf. Wellington was a very confident swimmer and we were a little worried on one or two occasions when he had navigated way out past the breakers and was nothing but a dot in the ocean.

I used to body surf while Wellington was swimming. I will never forget the time I was surfing in on a wave and I looked to my left to see Wellington, front legs outstretched just like me surfing in beside me looking to his right at me as if to say “Is this how it’s done?”

Gang Member & Rottweiler

Wellington and I were walking over the dunes and onto the beach one day when a huge guy wearing a gang patch appeared in front of us with his Rottweiler who was wearing a bandanna. The Rotty was elbow deep in the surf and the gang member was on the beach.

Before I could get to him, Wellington charged over to the Rotty in the surf and stood towering over it, declaring that he was the dominant male around here thank you very much. The Rottweiler didn’t argue.

The gang member thought that he should be the dominant male around here, apparently didn’t like the fact that his staunch dog was being intimidated and I copped a huge earful of threats while on my way to drag Wellington out of yet another situation.

The Doberman

While walking Wellington on lead around the neighbourhood a Doberman came flying at us, teeth bared. Wellington launched at it, breaking the metal attachment between his collar and lead in order to fend the dog off. Wellington repeatedly charged the Doberman with his chest, even though the vicious dog was biting at his neck. Wellington simply rammed the Doberman away from us into the middle of the road and into submission.

Carting

Our friends Mick & Ellen introduced us and Wellington to carting when we moved to Christchurch.

Concerned that dogs are often spooked by the cart behind them while they were learning, Ellen was prepared to be cautious.

As it was we just put the harness on Wellington, hooked him up to the cart and off he went. He loved his new job and within minutes was taking his first passengers. Wellington had two speeds while carting, flat out and stop.

Above - Wellington brings a judge into the ring at a dog show

Water Work

Our first water day with the Newfoundland club was at a large pond in Darfield.

Wellington watched intently as people would row out to the middle of the pond and encourage their Newf to swim out with the idea of grabbing a piece of wood attached to a rope to tow the dinghy back to shore.

When Michelle’s turn came she had only rowed a short way when Wellington launched away from me, lead and all, into the water after his mum. He immediately grabbed the rope and towed the dinghy back before it even made the middle of the pond.

From there on we got plenty of rides with Wellington. Being in the boat was a great experience. As Wellington would take the wood and turn around we would feel the power as the rope tightened and the boat began to surge through the water with a feeling a little like a car on the end of a tow rope.

Above - Wellington's first day of water work. He was already a very strong swimmer.

The Dog Trainer

Our Newfoundland club in Christchurch one day brought in a local trainer and we went along to support the event. I quietly made it clear to the trainer that we were not interested in training with food. (By this time we were well sorted thanks to Paul’s work.)

The first thing this trainer did was to get everyone to stand in a big circle with their dogs. The second thing he did was to march straight up to Wellington and I, show Wellington a food treat he had in his hand and try to coax Wellington to lie down. In true form Wellington was not having a bar of this trainer or his food. The trainer began saying “Down” more forcefully and Wellington just dropped his head in that really stubborn way of his. “Down!” I could see a growl was seconds away and the trainer obviously knew enough to realise the same.

“How do you get your dog to do anything?” the trainer asked me in despair. I just clicked my fingers and quietly said “down” and Wellington immediately dropped to the ground. The dog trainer left us alone after that.

Car Park

As we stood in a carpark at a Newf club event one of the more wayward younger dogs decided that he would jump on top of a nearby Newf. On seeing this Wellington decided that if anybody was going to be jumping on anybody else, it would be him. He launched toward the action with me on the end of his lead. I have heard that kilo for kilo, a Newfoundland is the most powerful draft animal in the world and on this day I had no cause to doubt the statement. The car park had a surface of small stones like marbles and as I was being dragged I could feel myself falling forward. Luckily there was a four wheel drive vehicle just to my left and I put my left hand out to steady my balance on the side of the car between the last side window and the back, before trying to pull Wellington up to a halt. At the same time Wellington decided to change his direction slightly and the window exploded as my left arm went through it…

Walks

We used to enjoy walking Wellington around Hagley Park. He would always be the centre of attention, often being swamped by busloads of tourists. He must have been the most photographed dog on the planet and he lapped it all up.

One day we were approached enthusiastically by a woman wearing a bandanna. “It’s been my goal to meet this beautiful dog” she told us as she patted Wellington. It turned out that she had spent a considerable amount of time in the hospital ward across the road recovering from cancer. The woman told us that she would see Wellington walk past from her room almost daily and she had made it her focus to be well enough one day to meet Wellington in person. He was part of her recovery process.

We also often walked Wellington in the bush track area of the Port Hills in Christchurch. One time he was off-lead and slightly ahead of us when we rounded a bend to find a terrified Asian tourist huddled into a tree... It turned out that she thought Wellington was a bear...

Left - Wellington on a walking track in the Port Hills

Epilogue

Although Wellington's mind was still as sharp as ever in his thirteenth year life was no longer good for him. He increasingly had trouble breathing and had lost mobility severely. We made the agonising decision to have Wellington put to sleep in September 2008.

We both swear that we could hear Wellington barking outside the house for some nights afterward.

On New Year’s Day 2009 we decided to take our Newfs Henry and Enzo to Lake Lynden for a drive and a splash around.

I was standing at the lake edge when I noticed a silver disk appear in the water. As I watched the disk weaved directly toward me at a very fast pace. The small whirlwind hit the shore right at my left foot and splashed water into my face just as if a dog had been for a swim and shaken off beside me as Wellington would always do.

My thought was that there may well have been three Newfs with us that day.

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