We never intended to have a dog, and certainly not a St Bernard. Reuben started his life in a Glasgow flat, his owners apparently unaware that he was likely to grow into a 70kg bundle of uncontrollable energy. He got through three owners in the first two years of his life, then appeared on the doorstep of our friend in a village near Glasgow with his fourth, who threatened to have him put down unless our friend took him in. She agreed, reluctantly, since she had a large dog of her own. My wife started to help by taking him for walks, and eventually the walks stopped at our house, which was at least more suitable than a city flat.
Our two cats were naturally put out by this huge intruder, but after a few days they came down from the tops of cupboards, and within a couple of weeks they were walking nonchalantly between his legs. Reuben divided other animals into small ones (ie smaller than a labrador), which he largely ignored, despite their attempts to wind him up, and larger animals, which were regarded as a challenge – the bigger the better. Cows and horses were a particular favourite.
