We were on tenterhooks for five weeks as we waited for our rescue dog Flossie to arrive with us from Cyprus.
What on earth had we signed up to?
I went through all sorts of emotions – excitement, fear, worry that we were getting another dog too soon after losing Dotty, nervous that we were taking a huge risk in rescuing a dog from Cyprus. I never for a moment thought I would take on a dog I hadn’t met. It was totally out of character, a bit like buying a house without viewing it first. This little girl would potentially spend the next 12 years with us, making our family of two into three once more, and we hadn’t even met her.
What if we didn’t bond? What if she was totally wild? What if we didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like us? We were still grieving over Dotty. I missed that dog so much – her calm, affectionate, funny character, endlessly entertaining, always present. How could another dog possibly fill the huge void she had left behind?
We were committed to making it work
But the knowledge that we were rehoming a dog in need kept us going. This was a dog who wouldn’t have found a home in Cyprus because she was black, and black dogs are seen as unlucky in Cyprus. And if SPDC hadn’t rescued Flossie from the wilds of the dry riverbed, who knows what would happened to her. She may even have been killed by now and not ever have been given the chance to live a long and happy life.
However this was going to pan out, and whatever she was like, we would do our best to help her, we would care for her and we would make it work, somehow.
From Cyprus to Bath
We knew Flossie was healthy as she had passed all the necessary health checks to gain her Pet Passport, but the journey was long. It involved a flight to Paris where she would be transported with a licensed and specialist pet courier to the UK via the Channel Tunnel. Quite a trip for a 20 week old puppy.
Her canine travel companions were several other rescue dogs, also making their way to the UK to their new homes, so I hoped that she would at least feel comfortable that she was not alone. She had never been alone in her short life.
The charity set up a Messenger group for the adopters whose dogs were making the trip that day. The courier was part of the group and we were kept informed of what stage of the journey the dogs had reached, including photos of them all at the airport and in transit. It was nerve wracking but also very, very exciting.
There was our little Flossie, looking rather pensive as she waited at the airport. What must she have been thinking? She had left her siblings and parents and was now making this huge journey, and she had no idea where she would end up. We tracked the journey and were told the dogs had arrived safely in Paris. We saw photos of them in their crates. I felt really excited now. She didn’t have too far to go. We eagerly monitored the Messenger group as the couriers let us know, with photos, when each dog was dropped off at their final destination. A dog called Oreo was delivered to a home in Somerset, and then we were next on the list. My heart was in my throat.
Pizza delivery
At 1.30pm on Friday 23rd December 2016, a courier pulled up in our road, a few doors away from our house. I peered out of our front window, twitching the blinds, feeling slightly sick with nervous anticipation. Was this her? After a minute or two a man and a woman started to walk towards our house, the woman was carrying something small, black and fluffy. It was our girl, delivered to our door, all the way from Cyprus, rather like a pizza.
They didn’t need to ring the doorbell. We were ready with the door wide open although I was anxious to get it firmly closed before they put Flossie on the floor. And there she was. She was much smaller than I expected, she was a little skinny, and she was frightened.
We all went outside into the garden thinking she would probably need a wee. We were right. She did a huge wee on the carpet before we managed to get to the back door, the strength of which has left a stain that no carpet cleaner has ever managed to get out.
I put a lead on her because, although I knew she couldn’t get out of our garden – we had added an extra layer of fencing to make sure of that – I thought it best to keep her close. I needn’t have worried. She was overwhelmed by the garden and wary of the open space. She slunk around the edge of it, making straight for the water bowl and having a huge drink. I made a mental note to watch out for the next wee and hoped that it would be more watered down than the previous one.
We brought her back inside, the couriers gave us her paperwork and they went on their way. They had one more precious dog to deliver.
And then she was alone with us. For the first time in her short life, she wasn’t with her canine family, or any other dogs, and she wasn’t in her own environment.
She was with two complete strangers, in a strange house, in a country that was totally alien to her.
Suzy Pope is a versatile lifestyle writer and newspaper columnist. If you would like help with a writing project, please get in touch.
