Rustle is my (our) very first and only dog that I have ever owned. He is a 22 months old staffordshire bull terrier (maybe cross). Rustle to me, means a companion.
I am an ardent animal lover and have always wanted a pet dog. As a child, I would always beg to my neighbours to let me walk their dogs and plead to my dad to get me one. But the complications of living in a busy city and a very small apartment didn’t make my father very agree-able, understandably! (I say that now as a grown up).
Not much has changed now, but we do live by the sea and in a bigger place than the one in Mumbai where I grew up. When I was asked if we should get this puppy who needs a home, I frowned! “How could we get a puppy in this house full of carpet, no garden, two toddlers, and who will walk him? who will train him? It is an added responsibility on me.”
Alas, I was later tricked into “just” visiting and having a look. Well, everybody knows what happens when you take a woman who always wanted a dog to visit a cute poor puppy in need of a home.
So about almost 2 years ago, my provider of wealth, health and wisdom ( fiancé), who was then reporting for the local newspaper called the Herne Bay Times, received a phone call from a “contact” with a puppy. This puppy was about 8 to 9 weeks old and came with an incredible story.
Gemma, who called us up, had been to the boot fair in the morning, and found a lady with a puppy looking for a home. The boot fair lady rescued the puppy from a man who was apparently trying to drown him in the sea. Rescuing the puppy from a drunkard wasn’t just this woman’s only challenge but she had a bigger task on hand. Her German Shepherd didn’t take the puppy very well and hence, he ended up at the boot fair. Gemma, had a staffie puppy of similar age and thought she could perhaps keep him or maybe find him a better home. That is the story we got from Gemma.
When we visited Rustle, he was called Turbo. He was shy and very frail. I picked him up and he was shaking in comparison to the other rambunctious puppy which belonged to Gemma, who was all over the place – nibbling, biting, chewing shoes, paw’ing etc. It was instant love! We took the puppy home with us. What a surprise eh?!
When we got this puppy home, we knew we had to rename him. There was no way he was going to be called Turbo for the rest of his life. No offence, but it doesn’t get more Thanet than that, or so I thought! (It is a joke!)
The puppy loved to empty the polythene bags in the kitchen which we tried in vain to hide quite carefully in the name of “Green”, but we would find the puppy playing and chasing them around. Everytime, we heard a rustling sound, we knew what was going on. Hence, when Ed suggested the name Russell, we thought, “yes why not Rustle!” I have to say it was totally Ed’s idea and I loved it. He is good with the whole naming ritual. And, that is how Rustle, our very own puppy was christened.
Today he is a very big boy. At about 16 inches tall and shiny brindle brown coat, he is every inch a very handsome, tall and loving dog. He runs like a greyhound, plays like a terrier, loves like a labrador and acts like a DOG! (something most domesticated dogs these days aren’t made to realise)
He is a so-called dangerous breed, if I have to go with the media and law; but he has never been in a fight, attacked or barked. He is pathetic at being a guard dog and has the ability to play with every breed possible. He loves little people and has never managed to knock them over. He has infact helped a couple of dogs locally get over their fear of other dogs and introduced them to dog play. He is the best dog we could have ever asked for as our first dog. Oh well, everyone thinks their dog is the best. But mine, definitely is, ask anyone!