The dog that didn't bark

A while ago, a friend of mine, called Terry, bought a dog.  He told me that he had wanted a dog for a long time.  He lived on his own, worked at home a lot and he wanted a companionable dog, who would be quiet and docile but be really friendly and loving.  Finally, after several failed attempts, Terry phoned me to say he thought that he'd found the right dog and would I fancy going to pick him up.  The dog, a small cross breed, was very quiet but happily came to you, wagging his tail when you called.  Perhaps I should have be worried when Terry decided to call him Butch.

Anyway, we got Butch home and Terry made a fuss of him.  I used to visit quite often and occasionally would take Butch out for a walk. He was a very docile old character, pootling along behind or just in front of me, sniffing around, occasionally scratching at rabbit holes to see if anyone was at home.  I confess that I was amused to think what on earth Butch would do if he ever met a rabbit... run in terror most likely!

A couple of times I went for a walk with Terry and Butch and watched as Terry tried to teach Butch how to play fetch. I lost count of the number of tennis balls that I had to go and fetch myself as Terry remonstrated with his dog about not rushing off to fetch the ball or the stick.  "Do you know a strange thing?" asked Terry, "He doesn't bark! There are times when I think that he's really a cat in a dog shape!" Terry sounded disappointed. "But Terry, you told the kennel that you wanted a quiet dog who wouldn't disturb you when you were working," I said.  "Well, yes but not this quiet; I want a real dog who barks and runs around and does doggy things."

The relationship went from bad to worse. Terry was now sure that he wanted a dog that barked and Butch didn't bark.  I watched on, puzzled, for it seemed to me that Terry was cross because Butch was the quiet dog that he had asked for. At some moment Terry's ideas had changed and he blamed Butch for not being the dog that he wanted now.