Some thoughts on dogs — Tom Browne / tombcopy

By Tom Browne

Dogs and cities don’t mix, we’re often told. They need wide open spaces, lots of attention and constant walks. The last thing they need is to be cooped up in a poky flat all day long, licking their paws and pining for company.

At least, that’s the reason we’ve never owned one, despite being natural dog lovers. (Although I can’t possibly compete with my girlfriend Louisa on this score; a person who scrolls through canine pictures on Instagram as a form of relaxation. Someone who regularly interrupts my reading by thrusting a cute dog photo in my face and saying, “Awwww!”)

As a London resident for nearly 20 years, I’d always postponed the possibility of dog ownership to the days when I fled the city, preferably to a rural idyll with acres of untamed countryside. I pictured myself as a latter-day Mr Darcey, riding majestically across the fields with a pack of hounds in tow. Maybe one day, I thought, but not now.

And so we remained dogless… until a few weeks ago.

Apollo came into our lives courtesy of our neighbours, Nik and Gill. They were told by mutual friends that we were a) inveterate dog lovers, and b) people who worked from home and thus easily available. The perfect companions for their canine, in other words.

Not that they’ve gifted us their dog, you understand. We merely look after him from time to time—feed him, take him for walks or have him overnight. In terms of dog custody, we’re still very much fair-weather sailors. Nonetheless, it’s had quite an impact.

For a start, it’s introduced us to the concept of ‘responsibility’. Work aside, the most complex decision in our lives up to this point has been whether to go to the cinema or the pub. Or whether the best response to the stifling summer heat is ice cream or beer.

Louisa with Apollo, in a not-untypical pose

Apollo, however, has moved the goalposts. Whenever he’s around, Louisa is in a constant emotional whirlwind. This takes the form of extreme affection (see accompanying picture) or, more often than not, extreme anxiety. Has he eaten too much or too little? Should we take him for a walk or leave him to rest? Is he relaxed or nervous, or just bored? Is he comfortable? Is he asleep? If not, why not?

To be fair, this anxiety is often justified. Apollo is a rescue dog, still recovering from the cruelty of his previous owners. When we were first introduced, he stood cowering at the top of the stairs, unmoved by our soothing words or offers of food. Nik and Gill said that it would take a while before Apollo trusted us, or even acknowledged us. When you stroked him, you could feel him trembling with nervousness.

But, bit by bit, Apollo opened up. Once he’d sussed out our flat and given everything a good sniff (particularly our shoe rack), he seemed reassured, and quickly set up home in my study. He soon began lying at my feet when I was on a Zoom call, often curling up tightly under my chair. He went from ignoring us completely to gleefully accepting the treats dangled in front of his nose. He’s even consented to Louisa’s 24/7 fussing (again, see photo).

Admittedly, there are still sticky moments. Going for a walk can be an ordeal. Once Apollo feels settled and ‘safe’ in a particular location, it can be difficult to shift him. At times we’ve had to carry him downstairs when he’s refused to move. Although he loves exercise, he often strains violently on his leash when out and about, desperate to get back home. The signs of trauma aren’t too far below the surface.

At other times, however, everything clicks into place. Watching Apollo scampering around the park is a joy, particularly when he’s playing and sparring with other dogs. You can see his confidence gradually building, learning to feel comfortable in the presence of others. During the hot weather, I’ve been dropping in at lunchtime to check if he’s OK, refilling his bowl and topping up his food. Now, when I open the front door, he’s straight down the stairs to greet me, eagerly sniffing my shoes, perhaps reliving memories of the rack back home. Those early nervous encounters seem a long time ago.

So, have I changed my mind about dogs and cities? Well, yes and no. I now realise that a small living space isn’t necessarily a problem if, like us, you have access to open spaces and nice green walks. My concerns that Apollo wouldn’t take to our flat proved unfounded, although it definitely wouldn’t suit a larger breed, such as the Newfoundlands Louisa favours (much to my bafflement).

At the end of the day, however, it’s all about love and attention. If we’re going to be dog owners in the future, we want to be the best owners we possibly can. Looking after Apollo has given us a taste of responsibility—but no more than a taste. The story in the UK, sadly, is often one of neglect and abandonment, and we don't want to add to that narrative.

So we’re looking to a future when our time and resources are far more doggy oriented. Who knows when that will be, but—as Apollo’s story demonstrates—dogs deserve nothing less.