REGGIE
Renée Ashley
Roof top of a private house, Oxford Street
87 x 130 cm
A sunny day in Woodstock. The sound of chatter, water gushing through the weir and birdsong ringing out through the bulrushes and reeds that line the water meadows. Contented Black Prince punters clink drinks and chatter about the local goings-on. Released from lockdown, they supp in teams of six. In the distance, a single swan glides across the river, the rippling water in its wake reflecting light, glittering like a crown jewel.
All is at peace. Until…
… CRASH!
‘Reggie! Noooooo!’
The stillness is shattered as Reggie erupts onto the scene. A fox-red, floppy eared projectile sabotages the tranquillity having spotted a floating stick. Upstream, the previously regal swan flares its wings threateningly, poised to attack. Paralysed with fear and rooted to the spot, our terrified tone alerts Reggie, instantly realising he is in dangerous waters between the swan and the weir. His Olympian swimming skills enable his escape. Relief floods over us. On-looking drinkers pick up their jaws followed by their pints.
Just as Reggie launched into the river by The Black Prince pub, he launched himself into our family, an enchanting, crazy mass of eccentricity oozing with love who has enriched our lives immeasurably. Reg is a handsome, gentle soul; he loves swimming, sticks and the company of the other dogs of Woodstock, always bitterly disappointed if they are deterred by his enthusiasm to play.
We are not Reggie’s only family; he has remained in-touch with his own biological relations. He regularly goes out to work, roaming the willow fields with his hard-working, mouse hunting mother and sister, Belle and Bea; it’s definitely a happy place for Reg, even if their female hunting prowess does show him up somewhat.
Our attempts to show appreciation to Reggie include dog beds (memory foam and sheepskin), innumerable treats (of different flavours and palettes), funky collars, holidays to the seaside and thousands of sticks. Our human tendency to want to show affection through physical objects is, however, transcended by his simple doggy tendency to lay down at your feet and look at you with those golden, trusting eyes that speak of love without measure.
We spend hours watching Reg as he stands on his hind legs, poised and nosily staring out of our front bay window, craning his neck with palpable fascination as Woodstock life passes by; the whole family united in wondering, what is he thinking? Why are we so enthralled and curious about a creature who eats his own sick?
Perhaps it is awe at the never-ending ability Reg has to give unconditional love and affection, his genuineness and stability in an unpredictable world where it’s easy to feel out of touch and unappreciated is invaluable to us. Elderly family members and those who have never owned dogs also seem addicted to Reggie’s gentle presence. We notice how touching him gives us an energy of comfort and peace that was not known to us before. We marvel… whatever did we talk about before we had Reg?
During lockdown, Reg held our core together; we pivoted around walking with him, as a family, each on their own or with one other. He offered us opportunities of conversation and contact and made sure we connected with each other and with the harmony offered by the countryside.
Purely by existing, Reggie has brought empathy, love and perpetual wonderment to our lives and a welcome presence to the town of Woodstock.
Renée Ashley