Saffron the Wonder Dog

We got Saffron when I was very young. I’m not sure exactly how old, but I know that there was a conversation around either getting a dog or a rabbit. Saffron was much better than any rabbit ever could have been. She was the fluffiest golden retriever I have ever known, with pale yellow fur that never darkened to the rich gold I’ve seen in other retrievers since.

We’d moved house three times before our home was broken into. My parents have always struggled to stay still, and when I was young we moved on average every four years. This has led to me absolutely hating moving home, but that’s another story.

The burglars got in through our back patio door. For those not in the UK, or who just call them something else, that’s a sliding glass wall that opens out. In our case, into our back garden. So these strangers came into the house, rummaged through everything we had on the ground floor, took what they wanted and left.

Not a peep from our loyal dog. Fast asleep at the top of the stairs.

To be clear, this meant that these burglars were rummaging through things at the foot of that flight of stairs. Saffron must have slept through it completely. I do not believe that she would have woken up and not made some sort of noise. Even if that noise might have been lumbering downstairs to lick the burglar’s hands.

She was a very friendly dog. Had she barked, however, there would have been no mistaking it. For an incredibly gentle animal, she had a very scary bark. Deep and booming. If you weren’t looking at her, the bark could easily have persuaded you that she was a fierce guard dog.

Except she slept through our house being broken into.

We woke up the next morning to find a lot of our things just gone. Being young, the only thing I can remember being taken was my piggy bank. I got that back, since it was dropped a short distance away. Probably when the burglars realised that a child’s piggy bank only contained copper coins, and while it was heavy, it was pretty much worthless.

But before any of that, my parents did the sensible thing and called the police.

Two very nice policemen came to the front door. I can only assume that Saffron was reacting to our upset and stress, because she not only barked at the policemen, she didn’t want to let them into the house.

She was much too friendly a dog to growl, and she’d never bite anyone save in play when she was very young. By the time this happened, she’d grown out of such games for the most part. But she did try to stop the police getting into the house. And from getting close to any of us, particularly my little sister.

From her point of view, I can understand it. Her family was stressed and upset, and then these strange men came, making us more stressed by asking us questions.

From that morning, I only remember two things. I remember having my fingerprints taken. That was an interesting adventure. And I remember one of the policemen saying to Saffron, “You’re barking at the wrong people, you daft dog.”

I’m not 100% sure of those words. We were in Yorkshire at the time, and the phrasing seems wrong. The sentiment is right, though. Also very true. We had the only dog I’ve ever heard of who would sleep through a burglary, then bark at the police the next morning!

She was still a much better pet than a rabbit, though.