A Tribute to an extraordinary dog who died forty years ago but is not forgotten.
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| Condor was a soulmate, friend and protector without who I could not have done my job. |
In September 1975 and I found myself sitting in a bungalow beside the Bahamas Humane Society compound in Nassau having just arrived on a flight from the UK to take up the position of chief inspector. As often happens in these situations when you are exhausted and suddenly find yourself alone far from home, what seemed a good idea at the time was now losing its appeal and I was full of misgiving as to whether I was up to the task.
It was at this
point that the back door into the kitchen, which I had left ajar, was pushed
open and I was just thinking I couldn’t face any visitors when I heard the
tapping of nails on the tiled floor and a sleek black female padded
nonchalantly into the sitting room. She wore a red collar and had a three-inch excuse
for a tail probably nipped off when a pup and had the appearance of a
crossbreed black Labrador.
She stood in the
doorway staring at me with soulful eyes. I waited to see if an owner appeared,
but she was alone, and after a few seconds she walked further into the room
flopped onto the cool tiled floor and made herself comfortable. There was no
attempt to come over to introduce herself and although I made polite
conversation with her, it was obvious I was being thoroughly scrutinized as
though a great decision was being made. I watched her and she stared at me and
from that moment on she never left my side during the time of my residence and
a special relationship was born.
I could forgive her anything when she looked at me with her sad eyes.
Although it was our first date she spent the night.
I had no idea who
owned her, what her name was or where she had come from, but on that first
evening I was extremely glad of her company and she appeared happy to listen to
all my concerns. Although it was only our first date, she stayed the night
lying across the doorway to the bedroom as though instinctively on guard. In
the weeks and months that followed I found she was a dog with attitude and
several bad habits but a real darling when you got to know her. It proved to be
a case of role reversal with her adopting me rather than the other way round.
I discovered next
day that her name was Condor and that she was technically one of the “yard
dogs” but it seemed that she was a lady quick to change allegiances when the
fancy took her, and possibly spotted a relationship with better opportunities.
I was unable to move or go anywhere without her as my permanent shadow, and on
occasions she proved a good protector when I was so pleased to have her by my
side. She came out on all my work visits, social visits (she hated missing a
party) and even insisted on coming to the drive-in movie although she would
sleep through the film on the back seat. She was also very vain and hated being
left out of a photograph and always found a way to muscle her way in.
She was at her happiest out on the road.
My most precious
times with her were when we patrolled the island together speeding to incidents
and singing along to the radio. Like all dogs she adored hanging her head out
of the passenger window and she liked it even more when I would occasionally
stop at a sheltered deserted beach and allowed her to swim or chase or retrieve
a bit of driftwood. She loved the sea, a true water dog, but it played havoc
with her ears with constant ear infections and irritations which I had to
treat.
We loved our afternoons off at Paradise Island Beach
We both enjoyed our downtime together particularly my weekly afternoons off when we usually went to the western end of Paradise Island beach which in the 1970’s was often deserted (no Atlantis, Club Med or marina at that time) and we swam and snorkelled, finishing the day with a stroll to the lighthouse and back when she would trot in front with the driftwood firmly lodged in her mouth. I enjoyed snorkelling, but Condor had difficulty understanding the concept and I could only ever see her four legs thrashing back and forth in front of me often ramming me and tipping me over. It was a time to escape all the stress and trauma of my challenging work for a while and it was extremely idyllic.
She did come with
many bad habits though, her most worrying being her dislike of certain Bahamian
men wearing straw hats which was quite a problem in sunny and hot Nassau. It
may have been a throwback from some earlier event of ill treatment. I
discovered this aversion the hard way while snoozing one afternoon on Paradise Island
beach when I was rudely awoken by Condor kicking sand in my face as she hurtled
off growling menacingly. By the time I lifted my head she was chasing a poor
terrified man in a straw hat out to sea. By the time I got to her, the frazzled
man had completed a nifty 30-yard swim out to sea. I apologized profusely to
him and half-heartedly admonished my bodyguard, but the incident had worried me,
and from that moment on I had to shout at any men in straw hats that crossed
our path and quickly restrain her whenever I heard a rumbling growl and raised
hackles.
Her other problems
included severe flatulence mainly caused by pigging any food material she came
across either fresh or decomposing. Her stomach would often worryingly bloat to
the size of a beach ball to the point of exploding and she would lie on a cold
floor moaning. But she never learned the lesson and wherever we went, her
search for edibles was always her focus. My long-suffering friends, when I was
invited to dinner parties, were very tolerant of the occasional stench
emanating from wherever she lay and to their credit carried on conversing
without pause.
She was a beach and old sea dog. Photo: John Brookland 1976
She also had the less than endearing hobby of either eating
or rolling in horse manure and as I spent a lot of time dealing with abandoned
and ill-treated horses, she had plenty of opportunity. I tried in vain to stop
this habit to no avail, but fortunately her rolling preference was for dried
dung which was easy to brush off her. At every opportunity she would squirm on
her back while uttering groans of ecstasy and having shouted at her she would
always accept the scolding in good spirit and carry on. But her penchant for
eating fresh dung was a no-no and I did have to stop her in her
First thing every
morning I had a routine of touring the Humane Society compound and clinic inspecting
the animals and Condor insisted on and enjoyed accompanying me. She would watch
me pick up my keys from the kitchen table and grab my mug of tea (I am English
after all) and she would lazily heave herself up, stretch and make sure she was
out the door before me with her stump of a tail wagging enthusiastically. She
liked these early morning walkabouts as it gave her a chance to meet and greet
the animals and more importantly search out any discarded or uneaten food.
She enjoyed speeding to emergency calls.
Our day would then start, and we would have no idea what to
expect not that Condor cared as long as she was along for the ride. I enjoyed
patrolling the island attending incidents and stopping off at local villages to
chat to residents about their complaints and worries over animals. Condor
particularly loved speeding to emergencies sometimes with my blue light
flashing and she enjoyed leaning from side to side as we turned corners at
speed. (I was also a district constable in the Royal Bahamian Police Force
(RBPF) so allowed to do it. Condor liked children and the attention she got
from them which was a bonus for me when on school visits. She became a mascot,
a favourite with the children who would wave at her as we drove past with her
head out of the window benignly accepting the adulation.
We had three
vehicles two of which were Volkswagens with bench seats and obviously Condor
always wanted the window seat which wasn’t a problem unless I had a colleague
with me. Then there was a lot of pushing
and jostling to make her sit in the middle of us. Even if you managed this, she
would lean heavily against you or lean over and drool while standing painfully
on your groin until you gave up and let her have her own way. Then with the
seating arrangements organized we could get under way. She often tried to
pre-empt this problem by getting into the vehicle we were going to use before
we arrived (she cleverly knew which one it was as we usually left the doors
open to air it out) and we would play a rotten trick on her by getting into a
different one.
Condor always had to be the first into the ambulance. Photo: John Brookland 1975
My work often placed me in sticky situations. On many
occasions I was threatened with a knife, cutlass, broken bottle or aggression,
but the presence of Condor barking and growling and the implied threat of
letting her out of the vehicle often had a calming effect on the situation. It
was a bluff on my part as I would never have put her in danger, but I
discovered there was a certain amount of black dog syndrome on the island or a
wariness of dogs of that ilk. I am sure that having her as a sidekick prevented
me from receiving serious injury and gave me confidence.
I could always rely on her to cheer me up.
Near the end of
my tenure everything began to fall apart. My personal car was stolen and I was
insured for theft so it put me in debt, relations with my employers were at an
exceptionally low ebb, I was beginning to feel homesick and I was suffering
from work overload and intense emotional and physical strain with the amount of
animal cruelty and suffering I was witnessing and dealing with. It came to a
head on evening when I just walked out of the house in a daze not knowing where
I was going. A concerned Condor
tagged along as always, and I eventfully found myself sitting on a deserted
Saunders beach a mile or so from home having a good cry with Condor leaning
against me. She did her best to cheer me up without success, so she sauntered
to the water’s edge, grabbed a piece of wood, came back and threw it at my
feet. She returned to the water and barked encouragingly until I got up, smiled
and started playing with her. It seemed she was trying to say that life was
just a beach so let's forget everything else and just get on with it and we
did. I could always rely on her to cheer me up.
Condor's favourite pastime of retrieving driftwood. Photo: John Brookland 1975
Coinciding with
this I was offered out of the blue an extremely interesting job back in the UK
and decided for the sake of my sanity I could not pass it up. Immediately my
main concern was what to do about Condor. I cannot explain how reliant and
emotionally connected I was to her at that juncture and to leave her behind was
unthinkable. I owed her so much as I know I could not have survived my time in
the Bahamas without her.
At the time dog
quarantine had just been introduced in the UK under new Rabies Laws (which coincidentally I was about to enforce in my new job at Heathrow Airport) and I
knew that she would have to undergo six months solitary confinement in a
kennel. She was not a young dog and was accustomed to so much freedom and life
in a hot climate. I wasn’t sure it would be fair to take it all away from her,
but I didn’t think I could give her up as we had formed such an incredible bond,
so I started applying for the required import license and quarantine space.
She needed a
clean bill of health and the Society veterinarian volunteered to do all the
necessary tests. It was at this point that he gave me the devastating news that
she was suffering from the latter stages of heartworm which was not treatable even though
she was not showing any outward symptoms. He advised that it would be unfair
and selfish to put her through such a traumatic journey and change of lifestyle
when her days were numbered. I was heartbroken at having to make the terrible
decision to leave her behind, but everyone promised to look after her for me
and she would remain as the Society mascot.
I shall never
forget my day of departure when she trotted out to the car with me and sat by
my side with an enquiring look. I had tried to say my last emotional goodbyes
to her in my house but gave her a last cuddle. As we drove away, I looked back
to see her sitting in the middle of the car park with a resigned look on her
face and I was absolutely devastated.
Postscript.
I kept in touch and was informed that she soon settled into her old routine. She survived another eighteen months and I did see her again on a return visit a year later but kept my distance and I was pleased to see that she appeared happy with life. She was an amazing dog and I talk often of her particularly when I see a black Labrador on a beach with a red collar, which is often.
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