Lacey, Nikki and Bas

As a little boy, every year I would travel south with my little sister and my parents to Landgraaf. There, friends of ours lived with their dog Lacey. Lacey was a Beagle with just a bit too short legs and a nose that was a little too small.

During a long walk with Lacey through the hilly landscapes of Limburg, Frans, her owner, warned us to be cautious around wild animals: “If she sees a rabbit, it might very well be that we lose her for a while—after all, Lacey is a hunting dog.” When Lacey was out in nature, it almost seemed as if she were laughing, which of course doesn’t make any sense, but you could tell that she was at her best. She loved exploring and leaping through the tall grass, all the while keeping a watchful eye on both her owner and the wildlife.

At a friend’s place, Henk had a door that could be left half open. In the summer, the upper part was often open. As soon as you approached the door, you couldn’t miss seeing a short-haired black dog hopping up and down. You could almost hear Nikki thinking, “Who’s there, who’s there?” When the door opened, the dog would sniff you and everything was fine. I went there quite often. In the last two years of primary school, the three of us—Nikki, Henk, and I—took part in the evening four-day walk; the dog enjoyed it much more than we did.

Friends of my parents had an imposing Groenendahler named Bas. Bas was very strong, but above all, kind. We often played games like tug-of-war to see who was the strongest. Bas’s owner, Aart, taught me that I should never, ever make myself smaller than the dog. Doing so would signal that I am lower in the pack hierarchy, and the dog would then dominate me. A wise lesson indeed.

Lacey, Nikki, and Bas have been the foundation for a healthy relationship with dogs for me; they ensured that Marjolein and I are now able to give a dog a good life, full of clarity, adventure, and love.

Related: Choose a Friend