Barney / Rubble

Last week, I left you wondering what would become of Barney, the perfectly normal Basset Hound puppy whose owner was determined to sue. Here’s how it all turned out. If you missed Part 1, catch up here:

Barney Rubble Part 1

It just wouldn’t go away, the thought of this delightful puppy having his start in life ruined by an entitled owner who wouldn’t listen to reason and who really didn’t have the welfare of Barney foremost in her thinking.  Whilst I had seen the breeder’s name on the pedigree form and had my contacts, I was confident I could track him down, but not knowing the gentleman, this presented a problem. I could end with a nightmare as Mrs Keyworth and the breeder decided to go to war with each other, with me in the middle.

I reckoned I needed some assistance, someone I could trust, so I contacted Don Jacobs, the local RSPCA inspector. We met in my office, and I explained my dilemma. Don listened without interruption, nodding sagely with that look that said it all.

“Ok, we need more information regarding the breeder. I may be able to help. Leave it with me; I know the RSPCA Inspector up there. Wales is like Cornwall; everybody knows everybody, and there are no secrets. Just go down to the local pub.”

A few days later, Don was back to me with an update.

“It’s like this, the reason your client can’t get any response from the breeder is quite simple, he’s dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yes, he died of a heart attack, all rather sudden.”

“It also appears that the breeder was not a professional breeder but a retired car mechanic who bred a litter of pups most years to supplement his income. It appears he was quite successful in the show ring, Crufts every year, and this put the price of his puppies up.”

“So what do I do now, and where does it leave Barney?”

“Well, unless you want to make this official, I can’t help with that one, and I have no reason to visit the puppy as no complaint has been made; however, if you can extract this dog from the owner, let me know.”

“Can you rehome it?

“Oh yes, I have just been made aware that there is a disabled child, and the family has just lost the family pet. They cannot afford another Basset, as you know, they are pricey and don’t appear in shelters very often. The kiddy is distraught, in a wheelchair and just lost her dog, and unfortunately, her parents believe that another Basset is the answer.

The phone call

With a degree of trepidation, I rang Mrs Keyworth

“Good morning, it’s Ray Hodson. I was wondering if I could call round for a chat as I have some information that will be of benefit to you.”

“And what would that be?”

“I know why you are not getting a reply from the breeder.”

“Just tell me.”

“I think it would be better if I spoke to you face-to-face.”

“I’m not paying.”

“I’m not charging.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Mrs Keyworth, the last time we met, you indicated a court case was in the offing; you are my client, and I feel that although obviously you were not happy with my assessment regarding Barney, I am obliged to inform you of developments.”

It took some time as the lady continually questioned my motives and how I knew so much, but eventually an appointment was made.

The second home visit

I was ushered into the lady’s living quarters and offered a seat. Mrs Keyworth stood.

I apprised her of the situation.

“I’ll sue his estate.” She responded

“If my information is correct, there is no estate to speak of.”

I spread out my palms in resignation.

“How do you know all this?” she asked.

“This is my world, the dog world, all I need is a name and a breed, and I can find just about anyone. I saw the man’s name on the pedigree form.”

“Is there a chance of seeing Barney?” I asked

“Bloody thing, you know he greets everyone with enthusiasm but shows nothing when it’s me. I really don’t need all this. The hotel is full for Christmas, I have just lost my chef and finding a new one is a nightmare. I don’t know what is happening to this country; there are no standards anymore.”

“I’m not surprised that Barney doesn’t like you; dogs are very intuitive, I thought.

Barney came into the room, albeit with a lot less enthusiasm than the last time. His demeanour showed that the situation was affecting him.

“Mrs Keyworth, it’s painfully obvious that having Barney is not working out for you and with Christmas coming and you needing to find a chef, may I respectfully suggest that you have enough on your plate and it’s time to reassess the situation.”

In a tone that lacked any enthusiasm.

“What do you suggest?”

I took a deep breath.

“I don’t have all the details, but I am in regular contact with veterinary surgeons, breeders, charities, etc., and know there is a family who have just lost their much-loved Basset. The family have a disabled daughter who has taken the loss hard.”

“Are you suggesting that they will reimburse me for my costs?”

I took another deep breath.

“No, Mrs Keyworth, the family can’t afford it. Their dog was acquired before the daughter was born, and as I’m sure you will be aware, the financial hardships of a disabled child are astronomical.”

“BUT WHAT ABOUT MY COSTS, WHO IS GOING TO PAY?!!”

I took yet another deep breath, and I struggled to hold my temper. I realised that everything was about money.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have the answers.”

The sudden change

Attempting to lighten the atmosphere, I casually remarked.

“Well, I suppose you could always put Barney down as a tax loss.”

Isn’t it incredible that someone who is obsessed with money suddenly changes their attitude when allowed to screw the tax man?

“Do you think so?”

“Well, I’m not an expert on taxation, but as you know, when submitting your tax return, some aspects can be classed as a tax loss if the capital expenditure fails to generate the projected income.”

Quite frankly, I was talking total nonsense; I had no idea what I was talking about, but it sounded like something my accountant had told me.

Silence hung in the air. I learned quite young that if you need someone to make a decision, let the silence continue until it becomes embarrassing. I waited and waited, and finally Mrs Keyworth reached a decision, but what emerged was still a huge shock.

“Yes, Mr Hodson, I don’t need this right now.”

“You say there is a disabled child locally. What sort of disability does she have?”

“I don’t know the details except that she is in a wheelchair. I heard it from the local RSPCA inspector .”

“I’m not happy but I have enough to deal with, do you want to take him now?”

Now that question did throw me as it came unexpectedly, but I reckoned that there were going to be very few opportunities to remove Barney from his predicament.

“Yes, I will take him now, but obviously, we will need to create a paper changing ownership.”

The escape

The transfer of a dog was never done more quickly. Having unexpectedly got far more than I anticipated, I couldn’t wait to get out with Barney safely tucked under my arm.

Mrs Keyworth, having made a decision, decided this would be a clean break. Having placed Barney in my car, I was given his vaccination and pedigree papers, his bed and bowls, plus the toys he wasn’t allowed to play with.

Having escaped, I rang Don as soon as I could.

We met up, Barney was handed over, and I would never see him again; however, I received updates from Don for years to come. The child had been paralysed in a car accident and, at the time, confined to a wheelchair; if that wasn’t enough, losing a much-loved pet must have been devastating. In the years that followed, she recovered most of her mobility and went on to lead a fairly normal life.

As coincidence would have it, the family’s previous dog had also been called Barney, so this new addition to the household would be given the rather grand double-barreled name of Barney Rubble, shortened eventually to Rubble.

For the rest of his life, Rubble would be the youngsters’ constant companion. Still, the timing of his adoption into his new home made that particular Christmas a rather special one for the family, Barney Rubble and me.