Andrew Clover is The Man Who Says“ Yes”. This week, Andrew says“ Yes” to dogs...
Andrew Clover is The Man Who Says“ Yes”. This week, Andrew says“ Yes” to dogs...
At the tattered end of my marriage, my wife said our daughter Iris wanted a sheepdog. Secretly, Wife and I had agreed to part, and the Collie is the most energetic, most clever of dogs.( A Canadian Collie has been proven to understand over a thousand words; that’ s more than some Canadians). What could I do? I said, Yes.
A week later, Iris and I leaned over a basket of two puppies. One climbed over the other to lick my hand with his milkdamp tongue. Iris said, we should get the other, who was more gentle. We got George.
Home, he circled us, trying to round up the family- but in vain. Divorced, my wife got the kids; I got the dog.
But he teaches me so much. First thing in the morning, I think I need a coffee. He thinks I need a cuddle. Then he thinks we should get out for a pee, and a downward dog, by a tree.
That’ s how I learned the magic of trees, which has become my life’ s work. Under an oak, which teaches I am safe to create the future I need, I realise my yearning was to sail the Atlantic, to find ruined rainforest to rewild. But how?
Under a willow, I learned to Trust The Flow of Life, and a week later, met a successful zoologist, who catalysed the plan, by offering to come. Over a year of dog walks, the zoologist and I planned the trip, but the day after I paid my deposit to sail, she chucked me. The next day, I woke at 2 am, with the grief feeling like a blow to the chest.
But George had no problem going for a walk at 2 am. In the woods, he chased badgers with snouting abandon. I meditated under a rowan, which heals by telling us to connect to others.
In a crew of 16, I sailed the Atlantic, to Colombia, where I persuaded a thousand children to plant a thousand trees. I was inspired by George, who on the beach, stares at children, as if willing to hypnotise them into throwing a stone. When they throw it in the sea, he runs, then stops because he doesn’ t like wet paws.(“ Do you think he’ s stupid?” the zoologist once asked.“ But he’ s a Collie!” I protested.“ Maybe he’ s a stupid Collie!” she replied.)
The journey climaxed in The Lost City of the Kogis, where I meditated for an ecstatic hour, then got humped by a dog.
Having sailed home, I went to my exwife’ s house, where George was the first to greet me.“ I cannot believe it” she said.“ He seemed to whimper at the door‘ I thought you was dead, Andrew, but you is not dead. I is smelling you, and you is here!’”
“ This is a weird suggestion,” said Iris, once we’ d all calmed down,“ but why don’ t you move to Brighton?’” I said, Yes.
I found a house in Brighton near Queen’ s Park, where George and I have made many friends. In Brighton, I learned I have ADHD and mild autism, which explains the doubt, shame and forgetfulness – but George helps there.“ We’ re going out,” I tell him,“ we need lead, wallet, and shoes.” He noses each item.“ Good boy, George,” I tell him. He smiles.
On our first day on Brighton beach, I found a stone with a hole through it – a thing the zoologist loved. I kissed it, then chucked it. George found it for me. Amazed, I now realised George had a trick he’ d waited two years to demonstrate. I now flung the stone up an eight foot groyne to a higher beach.
It took George 40 seconds to find it, and drop it by my feet.“ You’ re a good boy, George,” I said. I said it to myself, too.
Then we returned to Queen’ s Park, where, you can be sure, we took time to sit under a tree, to sniff the air.
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