Mr Spud the Jack Russell
By Miranda McHardy
Spud (or Mr Spud if he is being formal) is my pet dog. He is a 7-year-old Jack Russell terrier, a truly remarkable dog and one in a million.
He can make me laugh and he is always there when I want to cry. He is perceptive and can deal with the full gambit of emotions. He has many talents, most of which he has no idea he has, as he just spends his life just ‘being’.
“If people could be as contented as Mr Spud is, then the world would be a very much better place.”
He was born here at home, and whenever anyone came to look at the puppies to choose one to buy, he found his way into my pocket where he stayed. As a puppy, he was completely square from above, with rather short legs.
The only time he has any kind of argument is if he feels his family is under threat; this is usually totally in his imagination, but he will make himself as tall as he can and with a glance back to check he has his wing man (our Labrador) by his side and then he charges at the intruder barking his head off, which all looks very impressive, until he gets to them. At this point, he runs out of steam completely, and walks around lifting his leg importantly pretending he has not seen them at all. He is basically a bit of a coward.
He does not consider himself to be a mere dog, we have three others and there are dog rules in the house, but these do not apply to Mr Spud.
“Dog beds are for dogs, the sofa is for Spud, or a duvet if he can find one unattended.”
He goes everywhere with me in the car when I am out, on the passenger seat next to me. He is not actually mad about the car journeys, but to be with me, he’ll do anything.
He has one annoying trait: if I want him to come inside and he is not quite ready, he simply sits down and looks at me. No matter how much I yell at him, he will not budge, but I forgive him this because every time he does, it he makes me laugh.
Spud has absolutely no sense of time, I can be out for five minutes (rare without him) or away on holiday for a week, the welcome I get is outstanding. He squeaks, spinning round in circles, tail going like a crazy metronome: sheer joy dressed up in fur. After a welcome like that the world becomes an infinitely better place.
He is not a big fan of dog treats or chews. He takes the chew politely, then walks off with it, and reappears a few minutes later having buried it somewhere in the house. One guest we had staying appeared looking a bit bemused one morning with a dog chew he had found under his pillow.
“Mr Spud has a working life: he is a therapy dog for a charity and he specialises in students at university. He works one day a week but has been furloughed for a year.”
He is looking forward to starting again in September. He takes his work very seriously: when we are with students, I am completely ignored, and he sits with them listening to their problems. He is popular around the University, trotting about here and there wagging his tail to anyone who looks like they are going to stop for a chat.
Loyalty to me is a great strength of his, unless our son is at home in which case I don’t get a look in. He likes to do ‘man’ things, riding the quad bike, ‘helping’ with the chain sawing by chewing all the sticks. And he likes to watch our son fish, as long as he is not expected to get his feet wet.
