the prickly season

 

 

Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.

 

Wednesday November 14th 2018

 

The prickly season appears to be lasting a long time this year.

Dried thorny bits appear very early in September. I guess they are prunings. Anyway, Isis manages to pick up one particularly nasty specimen with her tail.

 

 

 

 

How long it has been nestling there, I don’t know, but it must have been for dozens of twirls and tail wags as it is very deeply embedded in her hair.

Isis announces its presence by frustrated growls and angry attacks on her tail. It is a two-handed challenge as many of the hundreds of hairs have to be unwound individually from the twig. Fortunately, we are walking with Gr., Bev and her dogs, and Bev. holds Hairy One’s collar while I tackle the twig.

Ouch! Several thorns pierce my skin so I can vouch that they are particularly vicious. No wonder poor Isis gives  little growls of pain.

The whole procedure takes about ten minutes.

Then the seed heads – those big pointy ones in the flower bed by the hedge –  dry themselves out and leap on her. They like settling in malicious clumps on the insides of her thighs, the long, dangly hairs of her tail, her fluffy ears and her underside. Even her chin and whiskers rarely escape the attack.

 

 

 

 

Several times, when we’re about to set off for home, she sits down firmly and refuses to move. When I examine her I unearth sneaky seed heads decorating various tender bits of her.

One day a few weeks ago, things get really nasty.

Before walking back from the park, I remove any seed heads which seem to be bothering her, leaving the rest until we reach home. After she’s eaten I sit with her on the day bed and begin tackling the rest.

These seeds are particularly difficult to get out. Each one has a hook on the end with a little spur on it. When you try to unwrap her hairs from a whole seed head, unhelpfully, the seed head disintegrates so that you have to pick every seed out individually.

Poor Isis is extremely patient.

After a careful all-over examination, I decided that we’ve finished and begin to brush her. When I tackle the tangled hair under her tail, she gives a piercing shriek and flies at her rear end. She bites her right back leg and, on the way, my right hand.

When we have both calmed down, which takes a while, I very carefully investigate. I gently lift aside the hairs under her tail to discover an intact seed head jammed against her anus.

Poor little dog. Unknowingly, I’d pushed against it with the brush. It must have been extremely painful. To her credit, she stands patiently without even a growl as I remove the offending case of seeds one by one.

Now, thank goodness, these damned seed heads appear to be rotting into the ground, since she hasn’t picked one up for several weeks, nor has she collected any thorny twigs on her way round.

A week ago, though, as she trots through the pines by the old bowling green and onto the grass above, she begins to limp. She doesn’t stop – I assume she’s too keen to get to her dancing mound – instead, she hops along on three legs.

Oh dear! Is it a drawing pin, or, even worse, a shard of glass?

Once on the mound, she comes to me, stands still and allows me to lift that most sacred and untouchable of all of her hairy self: her right back leg.

I lift her paw.

There, embedded firmly among her little pink pads, is a large, spiny beechnut case.

 

 

 

 

 

I have to squeeze my nails under the edges in order to dislodge the case, but Isis

doesn’t even flinch.

It’s a hard life being a dog!

 

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

Posted in dear little Isis, poor Isis, relationship building, strange behaviour | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

my ♥ amazing ♥ Isis

 

 

Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.

 

Sunday November 11th 2018

 

Today I realise that whenever I see, hear or think about Isis, I feel very, very proud of her.

I admire my brave little dog immensely.

When we arrive at Highbury Park, the light conditions are as frightening  for her as they could be. The sun shoots in and out whenever it feels like it, casting large, unstable patterns of shade across the gravelled surface of the car park, the asphalt of the path we need to cross and the grass beyond.

Isis’s ears are drawn back and lie flat on her head, her curled under tail has disappeared from sight, and she crouches down low beside one of the car’s back wheels.

But she doesn’t scrabble for the nearest car door.

Perhaps she is too fear-frozen to move.

This is no time for impatient tugs on her harness or blocking tactics, so it’s very probable that she’ll just remain where she is.

I can only stroke her, try to reassure her. At one time I would have abandoned the walk, picked her up, put her back in the car and taken her home; however, now I know her well enough to realise that she is battling with her fight/flight impulses. She is terrified but she very much wants to walk in the park.

A young lady approaches along the main path.

“Oh dear”, she says, “He or she is terrified. What’s the matter?”

I explain poor Hairy One’s predicament.

“Well,” she says, “I’ll stand back and keep my dog well away from her while she goes across.”

I am a little embarrassed and explain that she might take a very long time to decide to cross, or might not cross at all.

Clearly, the kind young lady has more faith in Isis than I do: she and her well behaved dog stand back.

After a few seconds, still cowering, and very, very carefully, little Isis crosses the path and steps onto the grass.

I try to guide her along our usual walk down over the big meadow towards the  stream, but she steadfastly refuses to be guided and tugs towards the nearby thicket.

I expect that once she reaches the edge of the thicket, she’ll lean into it and refuse to move.

Humans can be so stupid, and also so sure that they are right. It takes minutes before the most sensible option occurs to me: let Isis lead the way. She knows what she wants.

She creeps to the edge of the thicket, leans into it and slowly follows its edge round into the next grassy area.

Sensible dog. O.K., follow her lead.

I free her. Immediately, her tail pops back up. She is cautious but no longer afraid.

I follow her as she sniffs her way through the long undergrowth towards a group of trees and shrubs.

Now she finds her way to the edge of the path and follows it until she arrives opposite to one of the areas where she was first allowed to run free. She crosses the path and makes her way briskly towards the steep bank which leads to the next level. She then strides confidently towards the boggy patch close to the edge of the park.

There are allotments on the other side of a tall, strong fence, while on our side  narrow tracks run virtually all the way from the High Street to the Moor Green Lane entrances.

It is not unusual for Isis to check in with me now and again, but I am surprised by her behaviour today, and very impressed.

She continues to walk in front of me, sniffing her way skillfully along the winding track.

 

 

 

 

 

Each time that she finds herself about three metres ahead, she stops until I catch her up, and lifts her head to sniff my hand before walking on. We walk this way and that along the winding tracks for well over an hour, and all the time she follows the same pattern: forward for three metres, stop, wait, check in with Human and set off again.

I wonder whether her diligence arises from a memory of getting lost last week, but think it’s more likely a result of our growing understanding of and trust in each other.

Today I notice another pattern of behaviour which seems to confirm this. Because she is blind and deaf, touch and smell, obviously, have to be our main means of communication.

Ever since she was first allowed to walk off- lead, I have touched her face or tapped her under her chin to direct her.

But Isis isn’t always keen on touch. In the past touching has often irritated her and caused her to be growl and snap. Obviously, I persist. I have to.

I have to touch-guide her quite often today, but not once does she flinch or  growl, let alone snap.

We have a brilliant walk.

 

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

Posted in clever Isis, dear little Isis, Highbury Park, I'm off my lead!, poor Isis, relationship building, scary shadows, scenting, walking in the park, walking my deaf/blind dog, we don't like bright sun, we don't like the dark | Tagged , , , , , , | 6 Comments

shan’t!

 

 

Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.

 

Wednesday November 7th 2018

 

What a difference a day makes, as they say.

We’ve had days and days of ‘mostly sunny’. Isis hates ‘mostly sunny’. The humans can’t see any sun, but she knows it’s up there behind the clouds.

Bev, Gra., Rufus and Nancy wait with infinite patience just outside the car park exit as I tap, push, and exhort Isis to move.

Centimetre by exasperating centimetre, she creeps along the fence, nose to the ground. Persuading her to walk past the basketball court is not an experience to relish. On the other side of it is her favourite stamping ground. She heaves herself towards the fence as I attempt to keep her on the path.

When we eventually reach the slope down to the old bowling green, she persists in attempting to walk backwards.

She’s not in the slightest bit put out by our struggle. When I set her free she rushes off towards the old tennis courts where she bounces around enthusiastically for the next thirty minutes.

I lean against the fence and watch her. Unlike Isis I’m exhausted.

Today it is pouring. Hairy leaps around the car park grabbing gleefully at the  raindrops. She can’t be bothered to sniff but dances merrily past the basketball court and walks briskly down the slope. This time she is facing forward.

At the bottom I free her from her lead and off she runs to prance on her mound.

After a dash around the Colour Garden, she is happy to join the others for a walk round the park.

Still not recovered from yesterday, I trudge along beside her.

 

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

Posted in Kings Heath Park, poor Isis, we don't like bright sun, we don't like the dark | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Isis and Raja

 

 

Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.

 

Sunday November 4th 2018

 

Today I open an email which informs me ‘Kelly Heyworth Gross mentioned you on Facebook.’

When I check this out I find an interesting image.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now, who does this remind you of?

Yes, and me.

This is Raja, another dog who, with her brother Robin, was rescued from being chained. Raja can see with her right eye at present, apparently, but not her left.

I don’t know whether or not she is deaf.

Kelly comments, “this is very likely to be a relation of Isis.”

I look at the photo again; actually, I scrutinise it this time, checking off every feature.

At first glance I thought the two dogs have a very different body build. But they don’t. When I feel Hairy One’s outline beneath all the thick hair, and when she’s soaking wet from heavy rain or a bath, the body build is the same.

 

 

 

 

 

The quality of their coat looks exactly the same, although Raja’s coat is much shorter. She may, of course, have been trimmed while in rescue. The hair on her flank is long and wispy, just like Hairy One’s. It’s long on her tail too, and the way she is holding her tail is just like the way Isis holds hers when she feels nervous or uncertain.

Both have shorter hair on their legs, and little tufts about their feet. Their colouring is uncannily similar, as is the shape of of their muzzles and the way the hair grows around their chins.

Raja’s ears are not so fly away as Isis’s but the shape is the same.

And just look at those spotty noses.

 

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

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retinitis pigmentosa

 

 

Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.

Wednesday October 31st 2018

 

Walks have been difficult for poor Isis this week. Despite the weather forecast promising dull, rainy days, the sun has dodged in and out most of the time; consequently, it has been challenging, to say the least, persuading Isis to leave the car park and then to round the corner to begin our walk with B., G., Rufus and Nancy.

Each morning, when we have had our group walk, I give the recalcitrant Hairy One at least  thirty minutes off lead, usually in the Colour Garden.

On Tuesday, she is enjoying a romp on the mound next door to the Garden, when a lady with her husband calls to ask what my dog is looking for.

I explain about Hairy One’s difficulties and how she likes falling leaves, rain, snow and sleet.

The lady, F., and her husband T, are very interested. T., who has a white stick,  says that he can understand Isis enjoying leaves and the elements touching her.  He also expresses heart felt sympathy with her terror of light changes.

T. has retinitis pigmentosa. He explains what a horrible experience a sudden burst of light is to him, that it is not only very uncomfortable but produces a complete whiteout and leaves him totally disorientated. Normally, he is aware of solid things like trees, since they present as dark shadows, giving him a sense of where he is. Light and dark obliterate these ‘landmarks’.

I have just checked out some R.P. websites. One (N.H.S.) explains that two early signs in children are slowness in adjusting to change of light (most people’s eyes adjust in about seven minutes, R.P. sufferers take considerably longer) and difficulty in moving around in darkness.

He tells me that he is very lucky to have retained useful vision and been able to work until in his fifties.

 

‘The symptoms of RP typically appear in childhood. Children often have difficulty getting around in the dark. It can also take abnormally long periods of time to adjust to changes in lighting. As their visual field becomes restricted, patients often trip over things and appear clumsy. People with RP often find bright lights uncomfortable, a condition known as photophobia. Because there are many gene mutations that cause the disorder, its progression can differ greatly from person to person. Some people retain central vision and a restricted visual field into their 50s, while others experience significant vision loss in early adulthood. Eventually, most individuals with RP will lose most of their sight.’

National Eye Institute

 

T. told me that a dog’s eyes are very similar to ours and that dogs can suffer from P.R.

Apparently, this genetic disorder is rare and there are a number of different forms.

I am not, of course, qualified to diagnose Isis as an R.P. sufferer, but my conversation with T. and F. was very enlightening.

Over time, I have observed her photophobia and her terror of the dark except when she is in her own garden, and observed that she cowers and looks up when a strong wind moves a tree under which she is walking.

But there were still reactions which didn’t fit my theories; for example, why, after a period of staying in the same space, she plays happily in sunlight (as long as there are no shadows) and is delighted to walk on dull days, but freaks out when walking in and out of light and shade.

It also seemed very strange to me that she could ‘see’ these changes when she is blind. Obviously, there must still be some photosensitive cells in her retina.

 

 

 

 

 

Dear little Isis.

 

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

 

Posted in Kings Heath Park, poor Isis, scary shadows, strange behaviour, we don't like bright sun, we don't like the dark | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

a dangerous mistake

 

 

Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.

 

Sunday October 28th 2018

 

It’s Saturday, and Isis and I set off merrily in our new car for Highbuy Park.

It’s wet and very cold so Isis hops happily from the car and strides off with me towards the pine avenue.

I decide to offer her a change of scene and we go via the Italian Garden, known locally as the ‘Secret Garden’.

It’s about two years since we were here and Isis finds it very exciting.

I’m pleased to see that some of the wire netting appears to have been replaced. Nice and secure then.

Or not.

After about thirty minutes, Isis finds a gap which is invisible to me and quickly wriggles through it into the pine avenue.

Drat!

I shoot off to the entrance and gallop round the other side of the hedge. Fortunately, Isis, obviously pleased with herself, is still celebrating her victory by twirling next to the hedge.

Today she’s less interested in the pines, so I take her off to the little track which ends close to the old rose garden and landscaped area where she can run free.

Just as I take off her lead, I meet Ju. I chat to him – for a minute at the most – before I follow her.

At least, this is my intention. But when I turn round, I am confronted by a worryingly dogless landscape.

 

 

 

 

 

She must have moved very quickly along the path which we always follow.

I whizz along the path, but to my dismay there is no Isis dancing round the big tree surrounded by holly bushes. There is no Isis running up and down along the edge of the undergrowth. And I can’t hear her bell.

I glance up towards the road. It’s a long way off. She’ll not have had time to get that far.

She’s more likely to have turned off to the right along the path which leads to the smelly dragonfly pond. I turn round and run towards the pond.

No Isis.

I dash back and take the second path to the right. This leads to the other side of the pond.

No Isis. No sound of a bell.

What if she has run off towards the main road. I turn round again. But what if she falls into the pond?

I stop. I can’t go in both directions. There’s no-one around to ask for help. I’m beginning to panic.

Just then my phone rings. I am about to tell the caller that I’ve lost Isis and can’t speak at the moment when a strange voice asks, “Have you lost your dog?”

“Oh yes,” I pant.

“Well don’t worry,” the voice continues, kind and reassuring, “I’ve got her on a lead and I’ll keep her with me.”

We discover that we are on opposite sides of the pond, and arrange to meet up by the wall.

Soon after I emerge from the old rose garden, a lady and her two dogs appear from around the corner. The lady has my Isis on a lead. Poor Hairy One looks  bewildered, and her tail has vanished into her undercarriage.

She soon perks up when she smells me.

The lovely lady is B. She explains that she had been walking not far from the pond when she saw Isis stumbling along at the pond’s edge. Realising that something wasn’t quite right, B. stopped Isis and examined her ID disc. Reading ‘deaf and blind please help’, she rang me.

One of her dogs, Buddy, the brindled one, is a rescue. He came from Gran Canaria where he was on the killing list. She saw him on an internet dog rescue site and adopted him.

 

 

Buddy and Scamp

 

 

I am very, very grateful to B. for rescuing Isis. She could so easily have slipped into the pond, and once in, she’d most likely have been disorientated. She could so easily have drowned, and I would never have been able to forgive myself.

Isis and I are so lucky.

 

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

Posted in Highbury Park, I'm off my lead!, Isis in danger, park dogs, poor Isis | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

things are getting better

 

 

Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.

 

Wednesday October 24th 2018

 

It’s fun having a car. I’m doing all sorts of doggy fun things already and I’ve only been to Highbury twice.

One day I sniff out a good pine tree

 

 

 

and make an Isis nest in it.

 

 

 

Then I snuffle and snuffle until I catch a very interesting scent. It gets stronger and stronger. Then, suddenly, it disappears into the grass.

I know someone is hiding down there.

 

 

 

So I have to dig a hole.

I dig and dig and dig and dig.

I work so hard I have to stop for a rest.

I sit next to my hole and wait.

 

 

 

You’d think Human would notice how tired I am and help me, wouldn’t you?

 

I’ve mud on my whiskers and my tongue is hanging out.

 

 

 

I pant as loudly as I can but she doesn’t lift a finger.

 

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

Posted in deaf/blind dog, Highbury Park, I'm off my lead!, scenting, walking in the park | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Isis smells something VERY exciting

 

 

Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.

 

Sunday October 21st 2018

 

This morning, as soon as Ji. comes into the house, Isis becomes very, very excited. While I finish my breakfast, she bounces up and down joyfully by our feet, tail in an ecstasy of wagging.

This is very unusual.

For months now, there have been only two options: if the sun is shining unequivocally, Isis plays in the garden while Ji. and I natter for three hours, drink our coffee and eat our cakes; if it is a nice, dull day, Isis settles down patiently with us in the front room. On these occasions, when Ji. is ready to go home, we all set off together, then Ji. makes his way to the bus stop and Hairy One and I peel off towards the park.

So why, today, is she so excited as soon as he comes through the door?

I don’t twig.

Ji. does. “She knows there’s a car out there,” he says wisely.

O.K., there was a car parked on our drive overnight. But dogs don’t make inferences, do they?

Can they?

When we leave the house, Isis is very interested in the smells. She sniffs her way, literally every inch of the way down the drive. Her nose doesn’t leave the ground until she reaches the gate.

Although the sun is bright today, she sniffs the air enquiringly, and crosses the pavement.

Sniff, sniff.

Yes! It definitely is a car.

But it doesn’t smell like her car.

Oops!

She tries to scramble into the passenger seat with Ji.

Gently diverted, she stays with the safety of the pavement and stretches her neck in order to give the inside of the car a long, cautious sniff.

Then she climbs in and settles down on the new dog seat-cover.

Sniff.

This smells strange too. There’s a faint whiff of Human around, but no smell of Isis.

But yes! We’re off!

It is her car.

Could a dog possibly, possibly, be going to ……………….

 

 

 

Highbury?

 

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

Posted in clever Isis, dear little Isis, Highbury Park, Isis at home, strange behaviour | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

human is horrible to dog

 

 

Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.

 

Wednesday October 17th 2018

 

Uh -uh. Something’s going on in here.

 

 

 

 

I can smell great danger.

Sniff. Shampoo.

Sniff-sniff. She’s taking in the grooming stuff.

Sniff-sniff-sniff. Arghhhhhhhhhhhhh! The black bin bag she wears when she p-p-p-p-puts me in the water.

Must leave! Must leave!

 

I’ll run into the front room.

 

 

 

 

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! The door’s shut.

Make for the stairs.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! No good. The stair gate’s across.

 

 

 

 

There’s no way out.

The floor’s vibrating. She’s coming to get me.

Daisy! Help me!

Her hand is under my nose. No need for that. I know it’s you. Who else would be so cruel?

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t want to live here anymore.

“Won’t it be lovely to be a nice, clean girl?”

“F. Off.”

 

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

 

Posted in Isis at home, Isis gets bathed, poor Isis | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

a dog, a cat, a taxi and me continued

 

 

Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.

 

Sunday October 14th 2018

 

The cats begin squawking at 7.00.a.m. I find ‘Two cats’ the most effective of all the Nokia alarms. It truly alarms me: I’ve been using it for months and every time it goes off, I still jump awake and turn to check on Daisy.

Thoroughly awake, I dismiss the alarm. I should know better by now.   Unsurprisingly, since I’ve only had just over two hours sleep, I drop off again.

Oh my dog! It’s now seven thirty. No time for a shower. I hurriedly wash as little of myself as I can get away with. If my worst fears are realised and Daisy poops in the taxi, I reflect, a smelly human will be the least of the taxi driver’s worries.

I tear around the house serving dog and cat breakfasts. Too anxious to eat, I just gulp down a coffee.

Erk! Scrabble, scrabble. Where the hell is Hairy One’s car safety harness? How many pads shall I take for Daisy? I’ve been through the list so many times in the early hours, I know it off by heart and fling all of the items, one by one, into a very large Lidl bag.

The taxi arrives a few minutes early. Isis already has her harness on, so I shoot upstairs, capture poor Daisy and put her carrier in the porch before walking out with Isis.

The taxi driver is utterly relaxed.

“I’ll just have to fetch the cat”, I pant.

“I’ll hold on to the dog”, says the driver amicably, taking the well behaved Hairy’s lead.

First problem solved. The driver stows Daisy in the back of the taxi. I explain that Isis needs to sniff out the distance between the floor of the vehicle and the pavement so she knows how high she has to climb.

“Take your time, take your time”, says the driver, obviously an animal lover.

Phew! So far so good.

I spread out an old sheet for Isis to lie on. She settles down right up against Daisy’s carrier. She ignores Daisy. Daisy ignores her. I stretch my leg out over the carrier to prevent it from sliding across the floor.

And off we go.

 

 

When we arrive at RSPCA Newbrook Farm, the driver carries Daisy over to the Animal Hospital while I guide Isis back to terra firma.

Isis, as always when we walk, is attached to the running belt* around my waist; even so, it’s a struggle to persuade her to approach the door while I’m carrying Daisy in my right hand. My left shoulder and arm are still incapable of opening doors or holding a lead, but, fortunately, someone notices we need help and opens the door for us.

When we are called in, the kind vet collects Daisy while I haul the reluctant Isis into the consulting room.

Isis and I are asked to leave while Daisy has her blood test but I hear the poor little cat wailing with pain on the other side of the door.

We wait in reception for the test results so we’re there for two and a half hours altogether.

A different driver, not so keen on animals, I think, picks us up. He tells me to make sure the animals are kept off the seats. But he puts Daisy in the taxi and carries her to the doorstep when we get home.

On the seats? My animals? No way. On the journey back, they are paragons of virtue.

Altogether, they’ve been away from the house for three and a half hours, and, apart from the difficulty of getting Isis inside the Animal Hospital, we have had no trouble at all.

They have both behaved like little angels. If there were a class at Crufts for exemplary travel in a taxi, my Isis would win it.

 

 

 

 

 

None of my fears were realised. Daisy did not poop and cause the taxi driver to swerve into a ditch. Isis didn’t hunt Daisy. Daisy didn’t frighten Isis. They were both completely laid back about travelling side by side. Apart from two indignant mews from Daisy, they didn’t make a sound in transit.

What magnificent creatures.

I can’t get over them!

 

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in a vet visit, clever girl, dear little Isis, Isis and Daisy | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments