Big Sam – deaf but not daft!
After Jasper’s sudden death in 2007, there seemed little to go on for.
The house was empty and quiet – there was nothing to run home from work for, lunchtime and evening and life had lost its lustre.
After some weeks, I began looking around the rescues for another Spaniel to put the shine back into the day.
My quest ended at the excellent South Yorkshire Springer Spaniel Rescue… with a home for big Sam.
Stone deaf, probably from birth, his previous owners had not even realised his handicap when they put him in the rescue at the age of seven.
Sam had had two years on hard concrete in a kennel run, when I turned up there – his prognosis for a new home was not good.
Next to him was Skipper, a dog who for no known reason had had five years in the kennels with no luck..
The plight of dogs such as these makes you realise how utterly fate-bound their lives are.
Skipper should have been the dog I took – the kennels pointed him at me, as he had been there so long.
He could hear, he loved to play… but I felt an instant bond with big Sam and – I suspect despite the disappointment of the volunteers – I opted for the deaffy.
What a great choice!
Not only did I love Sam to pieces, but amazingly just a couple of weeks later I somehow broke the kennels’ log jam, and along with several other re-homings, Skipper too found a new place! It’s likely that whoever took him would probably not want a deaf dog (who would?) so everything worked out for the best.
As for Sammy, he had four great years, before succumbing to dementia – a terrible demise for a very sharp little dog whose deafness could not blunt his wit.
Immediately after getting him, I took him to a dog hearing specialist near Chester, who inserted electrodes in the skin around his ears (obtaining a couple of nasty bites on the way!!) before playing loud frequencies into Sam’s ears.
We had hoped that there might be an operation to restore his hearing, but the specialist’s conclusion was that his auditory nerves were probably destroyed at birth (an affliction, apparently, which affects a lot of mainly-white dogs).
We were told he could probably hear something as loud as a road drill, but anything softer would be lost on him.
For all that, Sam had a regal air – as though he had been landed gentry in a previous life – coupled with some very endearing habits… such as periodically appearing with his food dish in his mouth, clanking it about (which he clearly could hear!) to demand some grub.
Another preoccupation was with driving the car and he would slip into the driver’s seat whenever possible and plant himself behind the wheel, in racing fashion.
But like most Spaniels, his greatest love was hunting ducks. This gave me a problem, as he could not be let off his lead – ever – when out. I discovered this on Sam’s first holiday to Black Rock Sands… one of the biggest beaches in the UK. Surely he could come to no harm here?
I let him off the lead and he ambled off… and off… and off. He never once looked back for about 25 minutes as we ran behind him trying to catch him up and attract his attention – between times collapsing with stitch and sickness! Shouting was a complete waste of breath.
Sam was making for the only main road in the area – on the other side of the sand dunes – as his desperate pursuers began to panic in earnest. At the top of the dunes he finally stopped, looked back… and remembered us before trotting back.
That was his last walk off the lead, and I became very fit, very quickly in the following months… as I had to chase along behind him on his extending lead, whilst he charged through woods and in and out of ponds, hunting his quarry!
