Wavey's story

Wavey kept on playing and making no judgement

Let me tell you a story about Wavey, our beloved Collie/Labrador (2008-2022).  I was recounting a story about Wavey to a young friend of mine the other day, when he said, ‘Why don’t you tell that story on just walking the dog?’ 

So here it is.

On Wednesday mornings our refuse is collected; sometimes quite early, around 7am.  Harry Husband and I got into the habit of letting Wavey out into the yard, because she enjoyed playing with the refuse collectors.

We have a gate onto the street and Wavey’s game was to pop her ball through the rails of the gate when she heard someone approaching and then look sad, as though it was an accident and she’d lost her precious ball.

She was brilliant at it, she would pop the ball out at just the right moment, when a passer-by was close, so that it would dribble out right in front of them. 

The passer-by would see it and often pick it up and throw it back to her, behind the gate, so that she could retrieve it. 

… and then she’d do it again.

She was brilliant at it - sometimes she managed to stop cars with her perfect timing.

It was actually no accident at all, it was just her way of getting attention and playing with people.

The refuse collectors were well aware of Wavey’s game and they loved to play with her.  It was a mutual game, sometimes they’d leave a few tennis balls in a carrier bag on the handle of the gate for her.

This went on for years, it was innocent fun and very much Wavey’s thing; we just had to remember to let her outside to get on with it.

Then one day one of the refuse collectors, let’s call him Michael, stopped me and said. 

“Your dog saved my life.”

I looked at him not knowing what to make of what he’d just said.   He went on to explain that he suffered with depression and struggled with a drink and drugs  problem which was so bad that his son had been taken away from him and put into care. 

He was heartbroken.

He’d hit a serious low and was considering taking his own life.

Michael had worked as a refuse collector for several years and the one thing he could rely on was that Wavey would be there, behind the gate, waiting for him and ready to play.  

As Michael said,

 ‘I know it’s sad, but playing with your dog is the best bit of my week.’

I knew that Wavey had her own life and her own friends that she played with; I just hadn’t realised quite how significant her playfulness had become.

I feel honoured that Michael had had the courage to tell me his story, it couldn’t have been easy. Most of all I was happy that Wavey went on playing and making no judgement. 

In fact, she died, aged 14, whilst playing with children - so we have a plaque on the gate where she played, which reads:

Wavey

2008-2020

forever playful

AJK

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