Paulclem

This is my dog Dorje, a long legged Jack Russell Terrier. He is 2 today - 20th April.



Dorje is a Tibetan name, and one of its meanings is Thunderbolt, which is most appropriate in this case. He was named by our children, who also have this as a middle name. (In the Asian tradition, it can apply to both male and female). He is a little Thunderbolt in protection of his kingdom, and very defensive.

Threats to his kingdom generally come from cars, vans, motorbikes, unknown persons, dustbin men,(scavengers), and pigeons. He is rather an impulsive little dog – I suspect he suffers from “small dog syndrome” - and exercises his lungs frequently in protest at incursions. He has instituted a no-fly zone of up to 200 feet over our garden, especially for the pigeons, and he also objects to their presence on the roofs opposite.

The reason for this defensiveness is his ”bite first, ask questions later” philosophy. This is one t-shirt I would not object to my wife ordering for him from the internet. His philosophy of fear and biting does come from the time he was harried by three large dogs on his way back from the vet. He was nipped by a three legged Greyhound, which subsequently felt a little of my boot – not too much I assure you – and made him understandably nervous of packs.

Surprisingly he gets on well with the local cats. The Ginger Assassin – so named for his ambushes on dogs near the local stream, is now friendly with him. Lucky, the local black cat - who seems to act more like a dog, is very friendly, and our own cat Tenzin, is also on good terms. He does object to the Tabby Ninja Cat who has a very aggressive outlook, and who has struck him several times in anger. He has now taken to taunting Dorje by striding across our lounge window from time to time. Dorje responds to this with his usual outrage.

We never take him to town – there are too many vehicles to harass him, but he has many friends locally. There is Molly, the nervous rescue dog who paws him whenever they meet. Kyra, the Staffordshire Terrier, races him around very roughly, but he puts up with her boisterous play. Poppy the black Spaniel is the only dog that can catch him when he gets going in his quick little circles. Jordan, the one-eyed black Labrador, whose eye operation stopped his career as a guide dog, likes him, as does Lucy, another black Labrador whom we usually meet on a morning as she goes back home for breakfast and a cup of tea, (honestly). It’s a good distraction on our walks in the Big World beyond our street – which usually consist of a jaunt around the local stream that runs through the middle of the green belt stretching around the city.



Back in his Little kingdom, he is friendly with visitors, but doesn’t tolerate the cat in what he considers to be his private rooms. The cat and him are like an old divorced couple; too poor to move out somewhere else and so inhabiting different parts of the house. He lives downstairs and in the garden whilst she lives in a quilt infested upstairs with plenty of comfy spaces to curl up in. She does taunt him from the garage roof occasionally, as she did this afternoon.

As for his relations with the rest of the family, he considers to himself to be their protector, though I suspect he considers me to be his rival. We have had our squabbles in the past; he has forcefully made his point – usually in my hand, but he sees it my way in the end. This did result in a double course of antibiotics over Christmas for me this year, but recently it has quiet on the “Biting Front”. (Every time I say that we tend to have another dispute, so I’ll keep you posted).

So this small dog has carved out of the big world a little kingdom for himself. The rest of us fit into it somehow.