6 Women novelists and their beloved dogs

“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart,” wrote the poet, William Wordsworth, but I prefer the stertorous sounds of my Dachshunds when I’m writing, as they lounge beneath my desk or lie in a heap on my lap. And I am not alone. Many women novelists have tapped away or scribbled furiously with a dog or two at their feet.

Georgette Heyer was never without a canine companion. She had a succession of different breeds, who influenced her to create the many furry creatures that patter through her prose. The most notable of all was an Irish Wolfhound, whom she acquired at a time in her life when she was experiencing financial and domestic difficulties, and had suffered a nervous breakdown.

One might find the arrival of so huge a hound unhelpful, but the charmingly named Misty Dawn had a positive affect on the author. After a period of finding it impossible to write, the novelist returned to her work and produced the ingenious murder mystery, Behold, Here’s Poison. A towering 33 inches from shoulder to paw, Misty Dawn was described by Georgette Heyer as a “sour and rather cynical snob”. Maybe this surprising insight inspired the author’s plan to take her Irish Wolfhound to lunch at The Ritz. To many a dog-lover’s disappointment, however, I am sorry to relate the threat was never carried out.

I doubt Dodie Smith had any desire to dine with her dogs in a smart restaurant; she had too many. At one point she surrounded herself with 17 Dalmatians. No guesses, then, where the inspiration arose for her most famous book. But most of the time she only had nine.

She had a strong sense of the superiority of dogs over humans, writing in The Hundred and One Dalmatians that Mr and Mrs Dearly “…believed they owned their dogs, instead of realising their dogs owned them. Pongo and Missis found this touching and amusing and let their pets think it was true.” That role reversal, with our dogs’ belief that we are their pets, not the other way round, comes as no surprise to me.

Virginia Woolf often used dogs in her novels to add a different viewpoint or narrative. A little-read book of hers, Flush, a Biography, is the story of the poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning and her Cocker Spaniel: a dog who feels fully human.

To Flush, smells are like the words his mistress uses to weave poetry, a means of communication, a way of understanding the world. Virginia would have been particularly sensitive to her subject, as she too had a Cocker Spaniel, Pinka. We know so much now about the therapeutic benefits of dogs that it’s probable Pinka’s love and their shared walks across the Sussex Downs were invaluable to Virginia in her fight with depression.

Another Cocker Spaniel, Jasper, features in Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. Again, the author uses him to provide an alternative or additional view to the spellbinding story, and he becomes increasingly important to the unnamed heroine.

In real life, du Maurier only ever had one breed: she remained loyal to West Highland Terriers. Sometimes described as chilly and aloof, she was a solitary individual, but there was always a small white terrier to provide the comfort she didn’t always seek from humans.

In her troubled and childless marriage, the novelist Edith Wharton sought comfort in her many dogs. She wrote every morning in bed, surrounded by her living companions, overlooking the pet cemetery she had created for her dead.

Visitors have claimed her house is haunted by hounds and have even produced photographs. She became heavily involved with the movement to protect animals, and actively promoted a campaign to provide water bowls for dogs in public places in New York.

Mongrels have their own strong advocates, too, perhaps the most enthusiastic being Jilly Cooper, who has given a home to a succession of cross breeds and has written extensively about her passion for dogs. She received a CBE for her contribution to literature, but famously conceded it was really intended for her Greyhound, Bluebell, her friend and inspiration. Her books are peppered with mutts of all shapes and sizes, usually with amusing names. I particularly like Decorum, so called so that his owner can say he is exercising Decorum…

My own dogs, Arlo and Livia, have been my shadows while writing my first novel. Like Flush, they really deserve a book of their own, especially as I have had the temerity to feature an apricot Poodle as the main dog character. Writing with my laptop on my knee, Arlo has developed a new habit of knocking it onto the floor with his nose, letting me know exactly what he wants. Dogs may be an uncritical audience, but they know what’s important: walkies!

Away Weekend by Lesley Fernandez-Armesto is available to buy