Swiper The Dog

By AM Sunday, February 9, 2014

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From I was very young I recall pet dogs about the house: Sisco, Master McGrath or whatever name my father chose to gave them, they were a regular enough feature. Nor did any of them have to be trained to bark at British soldiers. Like many Belfast dogs they seemed to have an instinctive dislike for aggressive foreigners.

On my first short stay at home in 1989, on a 3 day temporary release after thirteen and a half years in prison, I was introduced to Caesar, my mother’s pet dog. During the work out scheme it was often dog out day, with me taking him for ten mile walks. When I made it home for good I had a succession of dogs, Cu, Trimble and Rhonda. Now we have Cleo who nominally belongs to my daughter but is in fact the constant companion of my son. 
From childhood I recall reading the book Old Yeller by Fred Gipson. In prison it was Cujo by Stephen King, Watchers by Dean R Koontz, or Fluke by James Herbert. So, in one sense or another I have been dogged by the canine. 

For many years I was familiar with the name Swiper from the Dora The Explorer TV kids programme. My daughter was an avid viewer so I go to know all the characters as well. There wasn’t much choice with Dora being compulsory viewing in our house. So when I first made the acquaintance of a real Swiper, an Irish Red Setter, there was something alluring to it.

He belonged to my friend, so most weekends would see us heading off in the car, Swiper and Cleo safely ensconced in the boot as we made our way to the racecourse or occasionally the beach where the dogs would soon be in their element. They bonded and teamed up as a pack. Their noses took them everywhere including places no human nose would touch. Cleo was quicker but Swiper was cuter. When I would show the dog treats he would let Cleo run off for the first one and do the work, knowing that the second would be virtually hand fed to him. 

When my friend told me one Monday morning that Swiper had died quite unexpectedly at the weekend there was a palpable feeling of loss. I never thought of Swiper from one walk to the next but once he died I realised how much a part of our weekends he actually was. He was the fourth corner of our weekend rambling square and he is missed. As my friend is inclined to point out to me there is so much to be learned about our human life from merely observing animals as they go about their own. 

When I told my son of Swiper’s passing he cried for a long time, making me half regret that I had shared the knowledge with him. But he would have found out anyway and things like this are always helpful for getting children to understand death, the sure grim finality of it, that present life is not a practice run for some other. The need to treat life responsibly is pressed home.  

We have replaced Swiper with another red setter; this one is called Copper because of his colour rather than the fact that he has any association with peelers. Had it been the latter we could just have called him Pig. On Sunday we hit the beach with the two of them. It will take a while yet before they bond but they shall. It will be even longer before the bond we had with Swiper will fade.  His memory will not be swiped away that quick.