26. Toughening up Andrew by Anne Manchester

Between Christmas 2004 and New Year, James, David, Uncle Colin and I spent three special nights at a little rented house in Lake Ferry. Fortunately, the landlady agreed Colin’s pampered Pekinese Andrew could come with us, despite her normal “no dogs” policy. I explained to her he was hardly a dog at all.
 

In the days preceding Christmas, James, David and I had been very busy trying to finish the outside painting on the recently restored summer house. As usual Garry the builder had let me down and the whole job had dragged on far too long, hence the last minute painting on the eve of Christmas. David was incredibly willing and hard working, as he had been ever since he joined the army. He had become my rock, someone I could really depend on. When he came down from Linton Army Camp to stay the weekend in Eastbourne, he would often ask me what he could do to help, with tree pruning and some house maintenance fairly regular jobs.
So it was a relief to get that last minute summer house painting behind us and finally set off on our mini holiday. This was going to be a particular treat for Colin who had never been to this part of the Wairarapa Coast, and for James, who was due to head back to the UK in January.  

Again, David was incredibly helpful as we packed and unpacked the car at the other end. As long as I had remembered the tomato sauce, he was happy. He was a man of simple tastes. And he didn’t mind camping out in the living room at night, as there were only three small bedrooms.
 

They were four blissful days, exploring the shoreline and watching the fishermen casting their lines into the sea, then burying their catch in the wet sand to keep it fresh. David was quite convinced Andrew was much too soft and spoilt and very much in need of being toughened up. David himself had been toughened up in the army and it was time Andrew was too. So whenever we went out, David would get Andrew to run beside him. James and David also liked to play vigorous soccer games with him, using a tennis ball. It was quite surprising how Andrew’s tiny legs could sometimes outrun theirs. At the end of the game, the three of them would fling themselves down, panting, on the grass to rest. Colin loved watching the three “boys” play together like this.
 

We also spent a bit of time down at the Lake Ferry Hotel, where James and David had a pint or two and played a bit of pool. They encouraged me to join them at the pool table, which I did for a while, but I was content just to watch them play together, something they hadn’t had the chance to do for quite some time.
 

David was also keen that Andrew should have some new experiences in his life. One was to encounter a seal, so when we visited one of the seal colonies nearby, David carried Andrew with him, bringing him rather close to a baby seal and its mother. Of course, dogs are not allowed near these protected creatures and one man there got rather upset at David’s actions. But, of course, he did not realise Andrew was not really a dog at all, even though he looked suspiciously like one. This fellow and David exchanged a few blunt words on the topic.
 

On the day we visited the Cape Palliser Lighthouse, we had a relaxing picnic by the sea. But it was not long before David was up taking Andrew for a run. When Andrew returned looking rather bedraggled, having been run through several muddy puddles along the way, his doting father was less than amused. But how could a bit of mud hurt a real dog? David asked.

Andrew’s last big adventure that holiday was going out to sea in Bob Buckley’s crayfishing boat , to watch the crayfish pots been hauled up and their crays released onto the bottom of the boat where their pincers, hard shelled bodies and swivelly eyes looked quite menacing as they flapped around at our feet. David held Andrew firmly in his arms, assuring him no harm could come to him and this was all a good experience for him.
 

Later that day, we had a delicious seafood BBQ at the Buckleys where Andrew, assisted by David, got a further experience of the wild coastal and rural lifestyle.
 

On our way home from our little holiday, we called in to see Ian Stewart and Mary McCallum at their Dry Rock olive grove. Mary was impressed at the way David related to her young daughter Issy, talking to her in a respectful and patient way. “Not many young men would bother to do that,” she said to me.
 

But by then, David was anxious to get back to Wellington to meet up with his new girlfriend Emma, so our visit was brief, though memorable.