I74
'And that's her grandmother.' It was incredible: like going to a
country house and suddenly discovering for the first time rows
and rows of portraits of your own ancestors staring down. The
family resemblance was quite uncanny, and I felt so proud
on Emma's behalf. She just followed us around and looked
strangely possessive among all the pictures, a little affectionate
brown figure following us, looking up as if she really knew, and
wagging her tail gently at each frequent mention of her name.
We learnt that Emma had true aristocratic blood in her
veins. Her aunt, Cookridge Tango, was the first chocolate
Labrador in the country to be a champion, and her forebears
had won a great many prizes in their time. It was marvellous to
talk to Mr and Mrs Pauling. Like Mrs Hall, from whom
Bracken came, they had been among the first breeders in the
country to be really interested in chocolate Labradors, and
they, in turn, obviously felt very proud of their connection with
Emma.
Throughout the day Labrador owners came up just to talk
to Emma, just to give her a pat and to say, perhaps, that they
had called their dog after her or had bought a chocolate
because they had so liked the book and her picture. It was
wonderful to feel that Emma had done so much for chocolatecoloured
Labradors and to think that people had actually
named their dogs because she existed. 'Of course,' was someone'
s comment, 'mine hasn't done the things Emma's done, but
at least she's a little like her with the same colour and the same
name.'
Later that afternoon, I heard another voice behind me:
'Look ... it's my dear Emma.' This was Mrs Clay, with Colonel
Clay, who actually bred Emma before donating her as a
guide-dog. This was another tremendous thrill. Mrs Clay bent
down to Emma. 'You look so well. To think you were that little
puppy we raised and you've done so much and now you're so
famous!' I listened and, as always, felt quite humble at the way
people spoke to Emma. 'Now,' said Mrs Clay, opening her
handbag, 'I've brought you a picture of Emma's mother.' It
was lovely, and I thanked her.
'She does look a bit like her mum, doesn't she?' said Mrs
Clay.
I75
I agreed, and said, 'I've found out the pedigree of her father's
side from Mr Pauling, but I wondered if you would have her
mother's side ?'
'I'm sure m,e've got it somewhere.'
'I'm just interested,' I said. 'I'd just like to have Emma's
pedigree. Not, I suppose, that it matters what sort of a pedigree
a dog like Emma has.'
'No,' said Mrs Clay, turning to her husband. 'We never did
have another puppy like her, did we?'
This all helped to set the seal on a wonderful day. It was
amazing to have found, at last, such evidence of Emma's
ancestry, and we talked about it in the car on the way home.
Meanwhile, in the back, Emma had suddenly become rather
duchess-like and wore an expression that plainly said: 'I don't
know why you're so surprised. I could have told you I'm out of
the very top drawer.'
I76
CHAP E FIFTEFN
E V E N B A C K I N the days when she was guiding me, people
worshipped Emma; but it is different now she is famous, and
another illustration of how life changed after I could see. But,
although it is now four years since I had the eye operation, the
feeling of needing Emma has never quite left me. I still do not
like going out without her, and I also like to reserve times when
just Emma and I, and not even Kerensa, go out and do the
shopping. Then it is like the old days, and I think Emma enjoys
it so much, and we feel almost like one again even though
,connected through a lead and not a guide-dog harness. But
going along the street is a bit like a royal procession, and sometimes
I feel, quite without resentment, that I know what it must
be like to be married to a famous film star. 'Morning Emma,' is
always the first greeting, then, 'Morning, Mrs Hocken.' But as
well as those who really have known Emma for years there are,
as a result of the book, some who claim acquaintanceship from
way back.
One day I was in the park with the dogs when I noticed that
everywhere we went we seemed to be followed by a little old
lady bustling along with a Cairn. I was in a hurry that day
because I had a talk to give that evening and had somehow go,
behind schedule. Then, rather to my dismay, the old lady
caught us up at the gate as we were leaving and confronted me.
'Is that Emma?' she said, pointing to Buttons.
Oh dear, I thought, this is going to be a long drawn-out
conversation and I really haven't time. But I don't want to
hurt her feelings.
'Emma?' I said, 'No, it's not Emma.' Emma was actually
sniffing a bush a few yards away. But I felt a bit guilty because
I knew I was somehow misleading her.
'Oh,' she said. 'I could have sworn it was Emma.' She peered
more closely at me. 'But aren't you Mrs Hockridge?'
I77
This time I had no guilt about my reply.
'No, I'm afraid I'm not,' I said, wanting ,-cry much to laugh
but not daring, and not wanting to be unkind.
'Oh,' said the old lady, 'well that is funny. I know them very
well, you know. Know Mrs Hockridge very well-and Emma.'
At this stage, Emma, who had rejoined us, pricked up her cars
and nearly gave the game away by looking interested and
wagging her tail gently. Fortunately she was not seen. We
managed to get away as the old lady went in the opposite
direction saying to her Cairn, 'I could have sworn that was
Mrs Hockridge-and Emma!'
Sometimes I look round the room at home when all the dogs
II. But
are there and think how marvellous it is to see them a
particularly Emma. The light shines off her coat, her velvet
ears and wet nose, and when she sleeps, paws twitching
occasionally as she dreams dog-dreams, she still looks very
young, and I think, This is how it must have been for all those
years when I couldn't see her.
When I was blind at least I had some idea of how she greeted
people, and this was confirmed when at last I saw her, gently
nuzzling a knee, never bouncing exuberantly. Emma likes
affection, but she has always been a very self-contained dog.
Only I have ever been allowed to put my arms round her and
even then it has always been under protest, as if to say: 'Well
all right, if you must, you must. But you know I don't very
much like this sort of thing.' She likes to be spoken to, perhaps
be stroked, have her ears fondled or a rub under the chin, but
nothing too extravagant. After I could see, I realized how much
she really did dislike too much fuss.
Of course, just as all human beings are different, so are
chocolate Labradors. While Emma prefers her cushion on the
settee and her comfort, the other two are confined to the carpet
&n
bsp; and do not mind. Emma is quite a little dog but Buttons is a big
Labrador, a bit fat despite all the exercise because she is even
greedier than Emma, if that is possible. She stretches right out
in front of the fire, head flat on the floor, hind legs straight out
behind her. But Bracken likes to tuck himself away, which seems
a trait in some of the breed. You have to look for Bracken in a
room, and you find him curled into a tight ball in some corner;
I78
or, more disasti-ously, at the foot of the stairs where his colour
blends so well s~-ith the rug that people have seen him only at
the last moment as they descended, and only just averted the
sort of scene Laurel and Hardy were good at.
So I look at them all, and, even with a symphony of snoring
going on, there is utter peace and contentment while Kerensa is
upstairs in her cot, and Don and I read or watch the television.
Emma, Buttons and Bracken behave very differently, even
when asleep; and they have different temperaments. Yet it is
strange how people who do not properly know Labradors lump
them all togetlier as a breed and still manage to misread their
general characteristics. The impression given by Labradors is
that they are easy-going with everybody, and seem ready to go
off,A,ith anyone who will give them a good meal or a bed. But
it is not until you have had an Emma or a Buttons that you
realize that this is simply a front, an outside show.
When Buttons came to us at one year old she seemed the
essence of friendliness. The very first day we got her we were
able to let her off the lead in the fields with Emma, and had no
problem at all in getting her to come back when called. We
therefore thought she had instantly taken to us, and that was
that. But Buttons was really very reserved. Whenever we came
into the house, at first, she would only make a little fuss of us.
She didn't take to strangers. Not only that, she could be disobedient
and refuse to listen to commands. In fact, it took
Buttons a whole year to be actually our dog, to be really pleased
when we came in and to make a fuss of other people again.
I think Labradors are very sensitive underneath. They take
life as it comes, and they make the best of things as they find
them. They will not pine if they have to change homes as
Buttons did when beyond the young puppy stage, yet they hold
themselves back mentally until they are absolutely certain that
their world has stopped changing, that they are going to stay
with you, that you really love them and are going to give them a
home for ever.
Bracken, having come to us at six weeks, had never known
another home, and he was absolutely mine from the moment
we walked into the house with him. His is a most expressive
face. You can tell immediately what he is thinking and he,
I79
I i
most of all, makes me wish I had seen Emma when she was
younger. Emma would always come and touch me gently with
her nose when she wanted anything in the days when I was
blind, and I could hear her paws as she padded about or
jumped around. But I do wish I could have seen some of her
expressions that would have told me so much better than touch
or sound what she was thinking and doing and, more important,
what she wanted.
How much Emma has meant to me, how much pleasure she
has brought and still brings! Today that pleasure is redoubled
when I see her happy with Bracken and Buttons, her two
companions who have helped to give her a new life in her retirement.
With them in the park, instead of walking sedately
from tree to tree as she would have done before they joined the
family, and probably ignoring other dogs, Emma investigates
with a sense of excitement, rootles round, finds exciting smells,
and exchanges gossip in dog terms with the other two. If
another dog comes up, all three go to greet him and play. It is
so lovely.
Yet, sadly, and partly because of our runs in the park, I know
that Emma cannot hear as well as she used to, nor see as well.
The park is a wonderful place for dogs: not laid out with flower
beds, or stifling and artificial with no sense of freedom like
some parks. Instead it has great stretches of natural grass, great
wild expanses with trees, and you would never think that man
had designed it. But because there are such acres of space I have
to be careful about Emma. Sometimes I know that she has lost
me, and I have to go up to her and just touch her and say,
'This way, Emma.' I know that she cannot see very far now,
although she can still definitely see. I suppose she is rather like
me. Despite getting sight, my vision is far from perfect, particularly
at a distance. Once something gets out of view, then it has
gone. I am not complaining, I am merely saying that I think I
understand how Emma's sight is now, and that is where
Bracken comes in: Bracken who worships Emma, and seems to
take it as his responsibility to look after her.
We were in the park one day, and, as usual, because a main
road runs close by, I had walked up the path a little way before
letting the dogs off their leads. After being unclipped, Bracken
I80
and Buttons normally dash off, and, in quicker time than it takes
to write this, are just brown specks on a green background.
Emma takes things more quietly at first. She sniffs at a favourite
post, perhaps, or a tussock of grass where there is always, it
seems. a scent of which she will never tire, a kind of canine
equivalent of Chanel No. 5. And this is what she did on this
particular occasion.
'Come on Emma,' I said, walking on with the leads and
leaving her happily with her nose to the grass. Ten seconds
later I looked round, and there was no Emma! She had
vanished. 'Emma,' I called, 'Emma!' I looked in the other
direction. There were Bracken and Buttons enjoying themselves,
but Emma had not gone to join them. I started walking back
along the path, calling her. I wondered if she had gone into the
bushes that were close by the gate. 'Emma,' I called again, by
now a little desperately, despite myself. The gate was not all
that far away. And the main road. What if she had taken it into
her head to . . . it did not bear thinking about. Yet, just as a
drowning man is said to see his entire life, I visualized it all in a
few appalling seconds, and heard the brakes and the squeal of
tyres of the car that Emma would not be able to hear ...
I really began to shout and rushed towards the gate.
'Emma ... Emma.' At this point, Bracken came lolloping up,
thinking I was calling him. 'Bracken,' I said, rather breathlessly,
'where's Emma?' He stared at me, wagging his tail, looking
intent, puzzled, yet obviously working it all out. 'Find Emma,
Bracken,' I said, 'find Emma.' Then at that instant I really did
think I saw Emma disappearing out of the gate. 'Emma,' I
shrieked at the top o
f my voice, 'come back!' But Bracken was
already on his way and disappearing outside the gate.
A moment later he re-appeared-with Emma!
They came up to me. 'Emma, where have you been! You
silly girl.' No anger in my voice, simply sheer relief. Emma
pushed her nose against my legs and wagged her tail. 'You lost
me,' I said, 'where were you going? You must never do that
again.'
Bracken, in turn, came up, snorting and prancing with
excitement. I gave him an enormous pat. 'Clever dog, Bracken,
clever boy. You knew where she'd gone.'
I8I
As I put them all back on their leads I was never more
thankful that we had brought a little chocolate puppy home to
live with Emma.
Emma is now in her sixteenth year, and I suppose most
Labradors live until they are eleven or twelve. I am pleased to
say, though, that she is still physically fit. She has not gone
grey at the muzzle, and she hardly ever ails from anything. Of
course, apart from when she has a little romp with the other
two, she has slowed down a lot. She doesn't bark so much when
people come to the door. She still enjoys her walks, and I get
great enjoyment out of being able to take her.
But I know she is getting deafer, and I have to raise my voice
to her or go up and touch her so she knows I am talking to her.
I also know she is going blind, which is another reason why
Bracken had to go and rescue her in the park. And, with what
seems a terrible irony, I know she has cataracts. It doesn't seem
to worry her, however. She finds her way about and never
walks into anything. It probably worries only me. Yet now, at
least, after all those wonderful years of looking after me, I can
give back something to Emma and look after her.
I try not to keep thinking about her age. But invariably I am
reminded if I go out to do a talk, or a radio programme, or
meet new people. They always ask, 'How old is Emma?' And
when I tell them they start to look all sad, and say, 'Oh dear,
she is getting on, isn't she?'
'Oh, I don't know,' I usually reply, 'I've heard of Labradors
living till they are twenty-seven!'
I wish people would not insist on talking about her age, or be
emma vip Sheila Hocken Page 23
