The Rescue is a novel about about second chances, written by a terrier called Moll, who promises her owner, Pip, to look after his wife when he dies.
I wanted to write about what happens when you lose your partner, and how it is terrible, but there can be plenty of life – and love – ahead. Moll was such a strong character, and kept me going through it all, so I felt she should tell this tale.
This scene is Moll’s introduction to the one and only time she has sex. It was quite a challenge to write – how do dogs feel about sex? The point of the scene is that she can understand how her owner, Suki, feels when she meets a man she is very attracted to but, for various reasons, doesn’t want to have sex with him.
Errol was a terrier/collie and a real flirt, with huge dark eyes and a wicked sense of humour, who lived in Penryn.
We met on the fields above the sea, and he gambolled over to me and ran away, back and forth, urging me to follow him. Which after a bit I did. He had a musky scent that drove me wild, and we had such fun that afternoon – racing down onto the beach, over the rock pools and back. I felt like a puppy again.
He made me bark with laughter, and nudged against me, and teased me and nuzzled my muzzle until all my cares and worries over Suki disappeared. When I was with him, I felt as if I was the most important bitch in the world.
Errol made me feel like a different dog. I noticed that I was walking strangely, swaying my hips a bit. My tail looked longer and I waved it upright, higher in the air. Even my coat looked glossy. Other male dogs started sniffing around me, but I wasn’t interested in them. I only had a nose for Errol.
Soon, Errol suggested going off in the bushes for a frolic. I wasn’t sure what he meant at first, but I had this overwhelming urge to, well, frolic, I guess, though I didn’t know what that involved. But I’d never had such a strong desire to do something like that with another dog. It was all I could think about for days, and I got so excited, lying at home, imagining what it would be like. Him sniffing my butt, then my ears, then…. I wasn’t sure what we’d do, but I knew we’d have to do it or I’d go barking mad.
So one day we sneaked off into the bushes – ‘we’ll have to be quick,’ Errol barked.
We were, and it was – well, not quite what I expected. It hurt a bit, but it was over very quickly, and all he did afterwards was bellow, then he scampered off. I could have done with a bit of a cuddle, paw to paw, and a nose-to-nose chat, but perhaps male dogs weren’t like that.
After my initial disappointment, I felt invigorated and emboldened. Desired. The experience went right up my nose. He was all I could smell for days. I got quite dreamy for a while, remembering his scent, imagining doing it again – but better this time. But he’d disappeared. I was barking to some other dogs who lived nearby, and then I heard he’d used the same chat-up to several other dogs, and my tail and my whiskers drooped. I felt a real fool.
