On a journey home from Portugal this summer, I spend a helluva lot of hard-earned English £££s on data-roaming fees searching online for 'the ultimate dog'. I look at Bolognese and we drive through driving rain and storms to meet one in Norfolk (too prissy and way too high maintenance). I've never liked small dogs but consider having one. I never looked to adopt at the RSPCA but, suddenly, we are spending many weekends at the local dog rescue centre. Dogmatic in my search, I mentally assess every hound that passes by, every pooch encountered on my walks with our Lab, and clock up many hours surfing the net like a lovelorn singleton, seeking 'the one'. But, after hours that turn into days, I eventually give up my hapless search, reaching a cul-de-sac in my dog searching. I turn tail and then... And then...
The first week of October 2014: I am a devout follower of the 'things happen for a reason' school of thought, without doubt. A leaflet, pasted to many lamp-posts in the fishing village of Salema, catches my eye:
Now, ain't Google Translate just the best thing ever? I am ashamed to admit that my linguistic skills are sadly lacking. For someone hell bent on spending more and more time in this most beautiful, heavenly slice of south west Europe, my Portuguese is limited to only the necessary niceties.
Anyway, what I can do is research online and research is what I do to discover that Portuguese Water Dogs are the smarties that truly do have the answer.
For the uninitiated... these hounds were once the best friends of Portuguese fishermen, driving fish into nets, retrieving lost tackle and swimming messages from boat to boat. They have webbed feet and waterproof coats. They thrive with activity, especially if it's water based. And their heritage stretches way back to the 8th century when the Moors arrived in Portugal, bringing these water dogs with them.
We immediately find a Portuguese Water Dog that really isn't a Portuguese Water Dog or a Cão de Água Português as is their proper native handle. In our enthusiasm, we fail to see what is staring us squarely in the face – a con artist with a clever line in faux innocence and mock indignation when we challenge her with the rumours that she runs a puppy farm and is a fraudulent breeder. We remain a deposit down to this day, and there's a very different deposit we'd love to leave on the doorstep of said puppy farm, but some things are best left – well, left.
Meanwhile, at the water trials on our doorstep – Salema beach – we watch from afar one Rodrigo Pinto, a man so in tune with these hounds, it's poetic. He can bark instructions that send his charges scurrying all points of the compass across the sandy beach, focusing them directly into their crate – within seconds. The beautiful hounds shoe horn themselves into said crate and await his next command, ready to spring into action – and waiting on him. Solely.
To cut a long story short, we fall for this man and his hounds and his passion and his knowledge. We talk on the phone long-distance from the UK – lots – and eventually meet him at his kennels/hotel for dogs – Casa da Buba in Lagos. He does not disappoint. Needless to say, this man has a story to tell.
So, we suddenly have Única in our lives. Black, curly haired and feisty – and so, so exciting. And, just as exciting is the story Rodrigo and his son, Goncalo, have to share. They have a history – and a future and there's a whole world out there with whom they need to share it. President Obama, are you listening?...
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