Behaving Badly (5 page)

‘Well,’ I said, ‘that’s what I would do if I were you.’

‘Well, that’s very good advice,’ Fiona said as they stood up. ‘I feel quite overcome.’ She gave me a watery smile. ‘Thanks.’

‘Not at all.’ I felt slightly emotional myself.

CHAPTER 2

Maybe Sinead
was
picking up on Fiona’s frustration, I thought, as I prepared to set off for Caroline Mulholland’s house half an hour later. Maybe she was even trying to have a baby for her, who knows. I mean, dogs do imitate us, because they love us—they want to do all the things that we do. We sit—they sit. We sing—they howl. We vacate the driver’s seat—they jump right in. We get broody—maybe they get broody…? That’s the thing about being a behaviourist: you have to work out what’s going on with the owners before you can begin to sort out their pet. I checked my appearance in the mirror, retouched the concealer below my eye—I need less now—then ran a brush through my hair and left. Daisy was right about the Mews being friendly, I realized, as Joy, the osteopath, gave me a cheery wave. Caroline Mulholland lived in a village called Little Gateley, five miles from St Albans; I guessed it would take an hour and a quarter if the traffic wasn’t too bad.

As I drove through Archway I passed Alexander’s road, heart pounding like a tom-tom, my mouth as dry as dust. Masochistically, I glanced down Harberton Road—for the first time since ‘it’ happened—and felt a wave of distress. But, once I’d got through the queues in Finchley and Barnet,
I was soon coasting down lush country lanes; and as I wound down the window and saw the intense yellow of the rape and the fields of green corn, I relaxed—Daisy was right. This
was
a turning point; the start of a
new
phase in my life and I was determined to make it work out. Fifteen minutes later I came to St Albans, where I soon spotted the village sign. I passed the green with its horse chestnuts, laden with fading pink candles, then just beyond the church I saw gates. ‘Little Gateley Manor’ was carved on one of the pillars and I turned in.

The house was just as I expected—straight out of
Country Life
. Georgian, painted white, and with a circular drive sweeping up to an imposing, rose-smothered front door. As my wheels crunched over the gravel, I heard a deep throaty barking, saw a silver flash, and the Weimaraner came bounding up. Then a woman appeared, running after it, visibly flustered.

‘Oh Trigger! You
naughty
boy! Come
here
! Hello, I’m Caroline,’ she said slightly breathlessly as I got out of the car, and the dog jumped up at me. ‘I’m
so
grateful to you for coming out.’

I’m normally circumspect when I meet someone new, but I immediately took to her. She was thirtyish, with dark blonde hair scraped back in a ponytail, and she was attractive in a non-glossy way.

‘I’m so grateful to you,’ she repeated. As we went up the steps I inhaled the scent of the roses. ‘I’ve been at my wits’ end. You see, we adore Trigger but he’s such a handful, and in particular he’s horrid to my two Westies—Tavish and Jock.’

I looked at them, scuttling round her feet in the black and white marble-tiled hallway, casting anxious looks at the bigger dog. ‘And they were here first, were they?’

‘Yes. I had them before I got married. But then my husband decided that he’d like a proper “man’s dog”—’ she giggled ‘—and so I got him Trigger for his birthday, but sometimes I think I made a mistake.’

‘He’s certainly beautiful,’ I said, as I followed her into the large drawing room. ‘They’re such individual-looking dogs, aren’t they?’ I gazed at his coat, the colour of pale pewter, and at his unearthly, intense, amber eyes.

‘Oh yes,’ she agreed. ‘They’re gorgeous-looking things.’

‘But they’re also strong-willed and need firm control.’

Caroline laughed. ‘Well, that’s
precisely
where we’ve slipped up.’ She sank into one of the sofas and Trigger tried to clamber onto her lap. ‘Stop it you naughty dog! Get down! Get
down
will you!’ One of the Westies then jumped up at her, and Trigger snapped at it viciously. Her hand shot out and she smacked his behind. ‘Oh do
stop
it you bad,
bad
boy! Do you see what I mean?’ she sighed. ‘I wasn’t exaggerating, was I? It’s hopeless. Anyway, let’s have a cup of tea first.’

As she disappeared, all three dogs running after her, slithering on the marble tiles, I glanced around the room. It was gorgeous—twenty-foot ceilings with egg and dart coving, in one corner a baby grand; two apricot-coloured Knole sofas, a scattering of mahogany tables, and an enormous fireplace with a marble surround. There were gleaming oils on the walls, and on the mantelpiece were several photos in silver frames, including one of Caroline on her wedding day. I looked at it, then looked away, glancing into the flower-filled garden. A solitary magpie swooped onto the lawn, chattering loudly. ‘One for sorrow,’ I said to myself quietly. Then I looked at the photo again…

There was something strangely familiar about Caroline Mulholland’s husband, but I couldn’t for the life of me think what it was. He looked mid-to-late thirties in the photo, and
his hair was receding and already quite grey. But he was certainly handsome—they made a good-looking couple. I found myself wondering what he did. No doubt he was a successful banker, or a captain of industry—perhaps I’d seen him on the news. Yes…that must account for my sense of déjà vu, I thought: I’d seen him in the media somewhere. Caroline reappeared with a tray, then suggested that we had the tea outside so that I could see Trigger ‘in action’. But I’d already identified the problem—he was an over-indulged alpha male. He felt he should naturally be number one in the pack. He needed to have his status reduced.

‘He’s desperate to dominate,’ I explained, as we sat on the terrace, watching him with the other two dogs.

Caroline put her tea cup down. ‘Is he?’

‘Yes. This might sound harsh, but what he needs is to be knocked off his pedestal.’

‘Really?’ she said. I nodded. ‘But how?’

‘By you taking far less notice of him. He’s a chronic show-off—if he’s got your attention he’s thrilled. And the more you shout at him, the more he likes it—because then he knows you’re focussed on him. You’re actually rewarding his “bad” behaviour by reacting to it.’

‘I am?’

‘Yes—you’re inadvertently indulging him.’

‘Oh. I see.’

‘Every time you shout at him, he actually thinks you’re
praising
him, so that’s going to make him worse.’

‘I
see
,’ she said again, thoughtfully.

‘I don’t like to anthropomorphize animals,’ I went on. ‘But let’s put it this way. If Trigger was human, he’d be driving round in a red BMW—which you’d probably bought him for his birthday—barging people off the road, ogling girls out of
the window, then going to some party and getting horribly drunk.’

‘How awful,’ she said, with mock seriousness. ‘Like some silly “It boy”.’

‘Exactly.’

‘He’d embarrass us,’ she said, playing along. ‘He’d bring disgrace on the family,’ she added gravely. ‘He’d be getting into fights.’

‘I’m afraid he would. He’d be kicked out of school, he’d struggle to hold down a job and—I don’t want to alarm you—he might even take drugs.’

‘Really?’
She looked genuinely stricken. ‘Well,’ she added purposefully, as Trigger bounded joyfully about, barking his head off, ‘we’ve got to nip this in the bud.’

‘And we will. I won’t be able to “cure” him today,’ I pointed out. ‘But I can show you how you’re accidentally reinforcing his negative behaviour, then you’ll be able to work with him on your own. But you’ll need to be committed.’

She looked at me seriously. ‘Okay. Tell me what to do.’

I explained that the best punishment for Trigger was not to be yelled at—but to be totally ignored.

‘Dogs can’t stand it,’ I continued. ‘It’s the worst punishment in the world for them to be denied their human’s undivided attention—but that’s what you’ve got to do. And if he behaves really badly—say if he bites one of the other dogs—then he has to have some time out. Because if he’s tethered and the other two are free, that’ll really take him down a few pegs.’

‘I see.’ Trigger suddenly snapped at one of the Westies, then pinioned it to the ground.

‘Oh you
beast!
’ Caroline had rushed up to him and grabbed him by the collar.

‘No, don’t say anything,’ I said. ‘Simply tie him up somewhere.’

‘Tie him up?’

‘Yes. I know it sounds unkind, but it’s not.’

Caroline disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with Trigger’s lead. Then she tethered him to the gatepost, in the shade, with a bowl of water.

‘Now, we’ll leave him there while we stroll around with the other dogs, off the lead. He won’t be able to stand it.’

By the time we untied him five minutes later, Trigger was shaking and trembling. ‘Look how his body language has changed,’ I said. ‘He can’t understand why you did that to him. He found it incredibly humiliating. He’s upset and subdued. Look—he’s really grovelling.’ He was. He was practically sitting on Caroline’s feet, looking up at her imploringly, whimpering softly.

‘Wow,’ she breathed. ‘I see what you mean.’

‘If you really want his behaviour to improve, then you’ve got to make him feel less secure. Basically, he’s a bully,’ I said, ‘and like most bullies he’s a coward, so if you’re firm you’ll put him in his place. He’s got to have his desired position as top dog taken away,’ I reiterated.

She nodded. ‘I just didn’t realize all this, because I’ve never had a difficult dog before.’

‘Well, does it make sense to you?’

‘
Yes
.’ She seemed surprised. ‘It does.’

‘What you need to do is to carry out a dominance reduction programme, both outside and inside the house.’ As we went in again, I reminded her that dogs are pack animals, and need to know their place in the hierarchy otherwise they feel unhappy and confused. ‘They’re like young children,’ I went on. ‘Children are happier when they’re given firm boundaries—and that’s what you’ve got to do with him. So
you mustn’t let him sit on the sofa,’ I added, ‘or get on the bed—otherwise that means he’s at your own height. Don’t let him go through doors before you, and make him wait until you’ve eaten before he gets fed. In fact, feed the other dogs first.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Show him that his status is not as high as he’d like to think it is.’

‘And how long will it take for him to learn?’

‘Well, he’s very intelligent, so maybe just a few weeks. But you’ll have to stick to it religiously,’ I said, as we returned to the drawing room. ‘I know you love him, but making him learn how to behave well is actually the kind thing to do. And if he’s aggressive to the other dogs, then tether him for a few minutes; he’ll gradually make the association and stop.’

‘I feel so much better now,’ Caroline breathed as she scribbled down notes. ‘You’ve explained it all very well. Now, I must pay you.’ As she went in search of her handbag I gazed again at her wedding photo. I hadn’t seen her husband on the TV. I’d
met
him. Definitely… There was no question. But where? Suddenly the phone rang, and I heard Caroline pick up.

‘Oh, that
is
disappointing,’ I heard her say. The hall was so large, her voice echoed. ‘Well, don’t worry, I quite understand. I don’t know who else I’ll find at such short notice, but if that’s the situation it can’t be helped. Thanks for letting me know,’ she concluded, regretfully. I heard her footsteps, then she reappeared, looking thoughtful.

‘That’s a nuisance,’ she said. ‘We’ve got the village fete here on Saturday in aid of the PDSA. We’re having a dog show as part of it and Trinny and Susannah had agreed to judge it—it includes a fancy dress competition—but Trinny’s just phoned to say that they’re now filming that day and
can’t. What a drag,’ she groaned as she got out her cheque book and began to write. ‘It’s going to be very hard to find anyone else and I’m so busy as it is and—’ Her pen had stopped and she suddenly looked at me. ‘I don’t suppose
you’d
do it, would you?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes.’

‘But I’m not a celebrity.’

‘Well, Daisy told me that you’ve been on TV. And as an animal behaviourist you’d have tremendous authority, plus, quite frankly—’ she grimaced, ‘—don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m desperate.
Would
you?’ she pleaded.

‘Well…’

‘I just don’t have time to ring round with everything else I’ve go to do, and in any case I
know
you’d be brilliant, Miranda, and it’s in such a good cause.’ That was true. ‘I’d be
so
thrilled if you said yes,’ she added.

Why not, I thought. ‘What would you need me to do?’

‘Judge three of the four different categories. We’re going to have the Waggiest Tail, the Dog Most Like Its Owner, the Fancy Dress competition, and finally, Canine Karaoke…’ She handed me the cheque.

‘Canine Karaoke?’

‘Yes, it’s a total scream. Literally,’ she added with a meaningful grimace.

I smiled. ‘All right then. Why not? But can I bring my dachshund?’

‘Of course. Oh, thank you
so
much!’ She exhaled, smiled broadly, then clapped her left hand to her chest. ‘That’s
such
a relief. It kicks off at two thirty and we’re expecting a big crowd, so if you could come half an hour before that would be great.’

‘Okay.’ I stood up. ‘Well, I’d better get going.’ And I’d just
picked up my bag when I heard the crunch of wheels on the drive.

‘Oh, there’s my husband. He said he’d be back early. Do come and meet him.’

As we walked down the steps, a dark blue Jaguar pulled up next to my old Astra, then Caroline’s husband got out. Trigger and the two other dogs raced up to him, firing off a volley of excited barks. He bent down to stroke them, then straightened up. And as he did so, then walked towards us, I realized why it was that he’d looked so familiar. I felt as though I’d been pushed off a cliff.

‘Hello, darling,’ he said to Caroline, kissing her as he glanced obliquely at me.