by Simon Davies

Created on: March 15, 2007   Last Updated: April 30, 2007

The gate of the compound opened to a wall of sound. The dogs of all shapes and sizes leapt against their fences and gates barking as the Spanish lady led me across the muddy concrete. Two dogs that were constantly at liberty, "masters of escape" who would not have stayed in their cage for two minutes, came over to investigate their friend and the newcomer.
On the right was a large compound with one huge, menacing monster who threw his full force against the gate, bearing his teeth and bellowing his anger. The other smaller compounds had between five and ten dogs of all shapes and sizes, yapping and barking without taking a breath.

I was there to see some puppies. My children had been asking for a dog for years and I had always wanted to have a canine companion like we had had in my childhood. To take one of the grown up dogs would have been a mistake, an unknown quantity to be around children, but my heart broke to see all those dogs with almost no hope of a happy home. At least they were not starving to death in the country or playing with death on the roads of Spain like so many others.
The centre had recently received three puppies, no more than 3 weeks old, found abandoned in the country and in a sorry state. As the coordinator of the centre led me to their compound, I noticed that the gate was not even on its hinges, let alone closed. She pushed it open and led me into the small stable where, in one corner there was a small bundle of fur. As she went to the puppies and tried to separate them, I could here little squeaks but nothing else. The puppies squirmed in their attempt to maintain their communal sense of security in a harsh world, but their guardian finally managed to prise them apart.
Two of them were nice looking, one male almost white and the biggest, another female a beautiful ginger colour. The third was obviously the runt, an uninteresting greyish brown, it was his face which won my heart. He was thin and small with matted and dirty fur, but he had the most well-proportioned face I have ever seen in a dog. His sad eyes would not even look at us, but I took him from the lady and my heart was won.
He is now sixteen months old and transformed. He didn't make a single noise for the first two weeks that we had him. He stayed in his little bed when any of us came near him. Eventually my son, smaller and less threatening, coaxed him out to play and slowly but surely he regained his confidence. He became a normal, naughty, disobedient puppy and we struggled to get him to learn to obey. It was always a gamble to let him off his lead when we were out; if he saw another dog, he forgot about us and off he went to play.
One sunny day we took him out into the country by the side of a river. There he was in his element. He raced from place to place, paddling in the river, hunting in the bushes and digging holes wherever he could. When it was time to go home he had dug himself a little hollow and settled down for a nap. He watched us pack our things into the car and was quite prepared to let us go home without him, he had found his place! Eventually we persuaded him to accompany us, and he slept contentedly the whole journey home!
He is fully grown now and great company. He is still very wary of unknown men, but loves to be around children. He loves to go walking, and I am planning many happy hikes together in the Sierra de Cazorla near our home. Benji is a survivor of what would have been a sad end. Now he is an integral part of our family and loving every minute of it.

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