creatures great and small



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


Sunday October 13th 2019


Polymath asked for a natural burial: no pollution, no religion, no speeches, no formal funeral. On Tuesday, we gather at Westall Park Woodland Burial Ground to say our final farewells.

Niece K brings with her flowers picked in the morning from her father and stepmother’s garden near Lincoln. As the car reaches Newark, a stowaway is discovered, a little jewel of a cricket, nestled among the foliage of the bouquet.







Before she places her flowers on the coffin, K. carefully disentangles tiny cricket’s flower stem from the others and lays it on the grass, a few feet away.

Polymath would have loved to know that she has a cricket for company, K. and I agree.


There are other small and beautiful creatures about.


We know that Nancy doodle isn’t small, but I leave her in the image to demonstrate how diminutive puppy Bo is.

Although she’s tiny and only fifteen weeks old, Bo is fearless. She’ll bounce up to any dog, whatever its size.




























One of her favourite playmates is Derek, a large, exuberant standard poodle. Kind-hearted Derek is totally tolerant of Bo’s audacious play attacks, and even lies down so that she can jump on him.

It is rare for larger, older dogs in the park to snap at Bo. Like most dogs, they recognise a puppy’s vulnerability.

And here’s Lexie, S.’s three month old German shepherd/collie cross.






She’s delightful. She’s already trotting obediently by S’s side, and responding diligently to recalls. She’s beautiful, and as soft as the inside of a feather duvet. I can’t keep my hands off her!

She’s much more timid than Bo, though, and shrinks when a much bigger Lexie, also three months old, runs over.

She needn’t have worried. This dog might be a giant, but she’s kind and gentle too.





Finally, here’s gentleman Blitz again. Strong and boisterous he may be, but he is clearly aware that Isis is vulnerable.





While his human Y. and I are chatting, Isis decides she’d like to be somewhere else. She swiftly removes herself from the scene, disappearing into the wooded area adjacent to the car park.

As she vanishes into the trees, Y. and I set off in pursuit; Blitz, however, shoots ahead, finds Isis and returns to show us exactly where she is.

Aren’t animals amazing?


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 or

Posted in Highbury Park, Isis in danger, Kings Heath Park, park dogs, walking with Rufus and Nancy | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

little Daisy



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


Sunday October 6th 2019




Daisy August 4th 2019.




Polymath called her ‘Daisy-Bug’, or sometimes just ‘Bug’ because when she was a kitten she scuttled around the floor, over the furniture and up the wall paper like a little black beetle.

Daisy-Bug immediately took to Polymath’s other resident, puppy Ellie, who, having a very small, poodle mouth was unable to pick the kitten up by the scruff. Instead, she took kitten’s head in her mouth and carried her around like that. They played crazy games together, so crazy that Daisy was often taken upstairs for ‘time out’ so that both animals were forced to rest!

Little Daisy has been living with Isis and me for over two years. Regrettably, Isis and Daisy have not been companions. On Hairy One’s first visit to Wales she returned from a walk and stepped into her bed for a rest. Unfortunately, something furry and very cross was already in residence, and confronted her with spiky hisses. Poor Isis was terrified. They remained wary of each other thereafter.

This summer, as I’ve mentioned before, Daisy’s loses her appetite. Over the last few months she gives me more than a few scares, but the RSPCA vets bring her back from the brink with a gastro-intestinal dry diet and appetite enhancer.

She’s been on a wet food renal diet for some years, but a few months ago decides enough’s enough. She puts her paw down firmly and refuses to eat any more of it. We switch to renal diet dry food and she happily chomps her way through a bag of that.

Then, gradually, she eats less and less of the dry foods. The vet advises me to put her diet on hold and give her anything she’ll eat, just to try to increase her weight.

She loses interest in freshly cooked fish and chicken, previously gobbled down. For two or three weeks she is offered Sheba in terrine, in gravy, in jelly; Gourmet Mon Petit and Gourmet Gold. We try flakes, shreds and paté.  Ah, hope arise. She’s delighted with her first taste of ‘ocean fish’. But then she loses interest. And so it goes on. We work our way through tastes of everything we can think of that she might fancy.

Then, she barely eats at all. Then she stops eating altogether. She is so thin and frail that I stop forcing her to take medication. For three days she staggers from my bed to the bathroom for a drink and then lies stiffly in her cat tray. I pick her up and carry her back to the bed.

On Sunday September 29th she stops getting up for a drink but drinks when I take water to her. I torment myself, as we foolish humans do. I can’t take her to her vet. Travelling distresses her, it’s about eight  miles away and she’s too frail for the journey.

Now she turns her head away from the water when I offer it to her. It’s obvious that she is dying. I decide to ask the vet down the road to come and euthanise her the next day. But Monday comes and I can’t bear the thought of the vet sticking a needle into her frail little body.

If she shows any sign of distress or pain, I will call the vet. Of course.

She doesn’t. She sleeps. She no longer wants to be stroked.

On Tuesday morning, I see her flanks heave twice. Two deep breaths. She opens her mouth, releases a quiet little puff of air and dies.

When I check, I discover that I miscalculated her age. She’s twenty and six months. Thank goodness, she’s had a happy life. She’s never experienced cruelty or neglect.


I’ll miss you Bug.


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 or

Posted in a terrified dog, Isis and Daisy | Tagged , , , , | 8 Comments

the perfect border



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


Sunday September 29th 2019


At the beginning of August, Isis spends a week at Holly Trees Kennels while I enjoy a week in Uppingham with friends. She is there for another week this month while I stay with Polymath.

She is a very good little dog. She leaves the car and walks with me, unprotesting, through the main gate and into the yard. I hand her over to a new kennel person. But Isis doesn’t want to leave me behind, and stops on route to the kennel block. I suggest that under the chin taps will help. They do and, accepting her fate, Hairy One walks off obediently with the young lady.

During both of her stays, I ring to check that all is well. Ray’s daughter Wendy answers the phone and tells me that Isis is fine and jumping around playing with her toys as usual.

When I collect her, she has an excellent report: she’s as good as gold, a lovely dog, pleasure to have her.

Nowadays, I note, she knows exactly where our reunion will take place, and tugs gently towards me, tail at first waving in anticipation, then bursting into pleased wags as she reaches me.

Ray is standing talking to Adopted Niece and I, and, to my surprise, Isis nudges his legs and lifts up her head. “Ah, yes, treats,” says Ray. Apparently, every night Ray does a dogs’ bedtime treats round. He calls the other dogs out for their treats. When he gets to Hairy One’s kennel, he kicks the door!

During her August kennel stay, Isis undergoes a transformation: when she returns home to her dining room, she doesn’t regress to her wild, barky, snarly, growly food defending routines as she has every time she’s been in the kennels up until now.

Must be a fluke. Perhaps all the other dogs were very passive.

But no, it’s the same when she returns from her September stay. Back home, she eats like an ordinary, regular dog.

I ask Wendy whether Isis has ‘carried on’ at meal times while at the kennels. “She hasn’t”,  Wendy tells me, “she seems much more confident all round now.”

Well, I must say, it’s a huge relief not to have to go through weeks of tedious table manners retraining.

What a good girl!

And her reward for such impressive behaviour?

She couldn’t have a better one.






Torrential rain for days on end!


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 or

Posted in a very good dog, dear little Isis, Isis at Hollytrees, learning to trust, relationship building | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

goodbye my friend



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


Sunday 22nd September 2019


Sylvia, known in the blog as ‘Polymath’, respected and celebrated the lives of all living creatures. If she knew of any animal in distress, she wouldn’t rest until she had rescued it,  or, in later years, dispatched me do so!

Thus, I found myself once at the old RSPCA in Barnes Hill at 2.00 a.m. with a spinning squirrel who’d been hit on the head by a car outside her house or, on another occasion, in the dark one night, chasing a frightened baby herring gull round the back streets of Barmouth. It’d fallen from its nest on the flat roof of Barmouth Co-op.

A week later, when it had recuperated in her living room, I was required to teeter on the roof of her van in order to return it to the nest. (Apparently, gulls are one of the few birds who will accept their offspring even if they’ve been away and come back smelling of humans. Its parents came to greet it.)

She carried home Fluffy, a street kitten she found one wet night in the gutter in Rio, Brazil, and when she and her husband returned to Britain, Fluffy came too.

When I accidentally splashed fence paint on a young wood louse, she spent an hour carefully cleaning the tiny insect with minute shreds of damp tissue.

Sadly, Polymath, my friend of fifty-six years, was diagnosed, out of the blue, with a terminal illness just twelve days ago. She died last Thursday.

There were occasions on which I answered a phone call from her on a Wednesday or Sunday evening, and moaned, “I’m tired, and totally uninspired. I’ve only just begun this post, and it’s even boring me. I can’t publish this garbage.”

After admonishing me yet again for leaving post writing until the last minute, she’d invariably say, “It’s not about being inspired. Just get on with it!”

So that’s what I’ll do.


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 or

Posted in Uncategorized | 15 Comments




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


Wednesday 18th September 2019


I apologise for the non-appearance of a post last Sunday. This was owing to an ongoing crisis situation.

I hope I will be able to post next Sunday.


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 or

Posted in Uncategorized | 7 Comments

Daisy, Daisy ……………..


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


Sunday September 8th 2019


It’s Thursday and Isis, Daisy and I are off to RSPCA Newbrook Farm, Isis for the second part of her vaccination (accidentally missed last year) and her regular anal gland procedure, Daisy because she needs a new thyroid prescription and weight check.

Isis is very good as usual. Today, for the first time, she has her treatments without a muzzle. That’s a first.

And Daisy?

Well, she never yowls on the journey. She just vomits or poops, or both. We even have a regular pit stop for cat carrier change over.

She’s a good-natured little cat, and always behaves with decorum in the consulting room. The only evidence of her anxiety are damp little paw prints on the examination table, and her tendency to crawl into one’s sleeves or under the hem of one’s jumper.

We can deal with these idiosyncrasies. What, of course, as all cat people know, is frustratingly difficult to deal with is when kitty says “Shan’t.”

Although Daisy’s diarrhoea has been treated successfully, she refuses to eat her renal and gastrointestinal wet food. When I don’t offer her a replacement, she nibbles half-heartedly at her renal/gastrointestinal dry food.

Instead of achieving the weight gain the vet and I are hoping for, Daisy grows steadily thinner. Her shoulder blades feel like fur coated bone, and I can literally count her little ribs.

I give in and feed her Sheba alongside her special dried food. That’s more like it! Yes, she’ll eat some of that.

Not enough, though.

The vet and I talk again. He is fine with the Sheba: eating must take precedence. He also researches an appetite enhancer tablet which can be prescribed for cats with thyroid and renal problems.

The tablets are quite small, she only has to take a quarter of one every other day, and I have a pill cutter. Surely Daisy, who happily helps herself every day to a thyroid pill covered with sardine or pilchard, will not notice that her fishy ball contains a different med.

No problem there then, right?


Daisy is horrified that her pilchard ball is tainted with appetite enhancer, and refuses point blank to even consider eating it.

What’s more, she suspects that sinister things might be happening to her thyroid pill, and refuses to eat that, too.


There’s nothing else for it but to dig out my old, pink, polo-necked jumper again, usher the annoyed feline inside, close the entrance and open up the polo-neck.

As soon as her cross little head pops out, I grasp the neck tightly enough to prevent her from thrusting out a furry paw, and loose enough to avoid strangling her …… although, on second thoughts. (You cat people will know exactly what flits into my mind.)

I struggle to open her tightly clenched mouth with my other hand and to poke the pill into her mouth before she closes it on my fingers.

Tonight – just a few minute ago, in fact – deciding that it would be nice to take a snap of her with her head poking out of my polo neck, I pop upstairs to give her her med.

This time, naturally, she turns round swiftly inside the jumper, so that her rear end is now facing the neck of the jumper and her naughty head the hem.

Point to Daisy: fifteen love.

Just as swiftly, I allow her head to emerge, then wrap the hem end of the jumper round her neck. Ah, I can now sit on the extra length to preempt an escape bid, and use two hands to feed her the pill.

This is much easier: fifteen all.

Thanks Daisy.




We are not amused.




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 or

Posted in a very good dog, a vet visit, dear little Isis, Isis and Daisy, Newbrook Farm, RSPCA | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

a challenge for Isis



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


Sunday September 2nd 2019


It’s Wednesday morning. It’s raining, so I take Isis to Kings Heath Park for a change. She is so intrigued with all the smells which have accumulated since she last visited, that she is determined to check out every one. After twenty minutes, we’ve still not arrived at the bottom bowling green.

She marks each outstanding smell so assiduously that she soon runs out of pee. I point this out to her, but, undeterred, she continues to mark.

Thrilled to play in her Colour Garden again, she races round and round her bed of shrubs gleefully, until I rudely interrupt her to take her home.

Isis spends several hours on her own today, so in the early evening, off we go to desport ourselves for an hour or so in Highbury.

We’re wet and tired but happy when we set off for home. I’m looking forward to a lazy evening under a fleece on the day bed with Isis.

Since it’s raining, I look for my house key before getting out of the car. I look for a long time. I search. I rummage through bags and pockets. I get out of the car, and poke disconsolately in the rain, among the saturated heap of grass cuttings on the side of the drive.

No luck.

We return to the park where I scour the ground, trudging up and down between the car and the spot where earlier I sat to watch Hairy One playing.

I have spare keys, but they, of course, are unavailable: one is in the house, while the other is with a friend who is not in Birmingham at present.


I lose things so frequently that it’s quite tedious. But this evening’s situation is more than tedious. I repeat a few choice and very impolite words over and over again.

Good job that my pet’s a dog and not a parrot.

I ring my very good friend A. Of course, she tells me, Isis and I can stay with her overnight.

Fortunately, I’d posted on Hairy One’s blog the night before; also, by sheer luck, I’d given Daisy her thyroid tablet and had fed both furries before leaving for Highbury.

We have to park some distance from A.’s house, and I expect to struggle with getting Isis to walk along Pershore Road, especially as it’s very dull and all the vehicles have headlights on. But she’s unbelievably co-operative, and only refuses to walk when we’re traversing the zebra crossing.

Not the optimum choice for a stand-off, but, fortunately, she responds to some frantic chin tapping, and, at last, the soggy pair of us arrive on A.’s doorstep.

Isis has never been to the house before, and is obviously surprised to be ushered in.

I expect her to be frightened and desperate to leave, but she’s  neither. She knows A. well but is, of course, completely thrown by the new surroundings.

I keep her on her lead, and for the first hour she stands still on a rug in the sitting room, now and again gingerly extending an exploratory front paw.

She allows me to guide her into the kitchen for a drink of water and back to the rug. A.  kindly covers her sofa with an old sheet, and I lift Isis up onto it. She settles down between us and, after a while, relaxes.

So far, so good.

A. and I chat until after midnight.

Then I lift Isis down and manouevre her out into the garden and back. She seems quite at ease.

I guide her with lead and chin taps up the stairs and into the spare bedroom. She lies on the floor, but nothing I do will get her to attempt to jump onto the bed.

When I lift her up, she lies down immediately but won’t move an inch in any direction. Clearly, she is afraid of falling off the bed.






I have to shuffle her along with my legs so that there’s room for me as well! All night she sleeps pushed up against me. Once or twice, she gives a little growl, but settles as soon as I lay my hand on her side.

In the morning, she stays on the bed when I go to the bathroom. Again, she’ll not move until I pick her up and put her down on the floor.

This is the first time that Isis has stayed in a strange house, except for her two abortive visits to Wales soon after she came to live with me.

She’s behaved very well, and I am very proud of her.

At the same time, watching how restricted her movements are in a new environment, I’m reminded of the challenges she has had to face, and still has to face, every day of her life.

Today, I watch her racing around yet another area of the park which she has mapped out. She has learned where the trees and bushes are and races around fearlessly. When we’re walking in less familiar areas, naturally, I have to protect her from obstacles. Sometimes, I’m not quick enough, and she trips over a bramble or bangs her head on a log. She never makes a fuss. She just shakes her head and carries on. Bumps are rare, though. She has taught herself the layout of most parts of her two parks.

How brave and clever she is.


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 or

Posted in a very good dog, clever girl, clever Isis, dear little Isis, Highbury Park, Kings Heath Park, oh dear, running running, scenting, sleeping arrangements | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments




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


Tuesday August 27th 2019


Why is this post appearing on Tuesday, you may wonder: does she think it’s Wednesday?

She might well. It’s not out of character.

But this time, it’s not an error. The post is early because, at around five thirty, five years ago today, something life changing happens.

A Europet van draws up across the road and comes to a halt opposite my house.

I cross the road. I’m feeling quite weak with anxiety. In my hand is a new, blue, spotty collar.

In the van is the last dog the couriers are delivering today.

One of the couriers gets out of the van to confirm who I am. Then he climbs into the back of the van and brings someone out. He places someone on the pavement.

Someone dazed and bedraggled.

Someone hairy and white with grey splodges here and there.

Someone with very long, hairy ears and a spotty pink and black nose.




I kneel down on the pavement and look at her. She just sits there, still and bewildered. “Hello”, I say to my deaf/blind dog, and offer her a hand to sniff. She doesn’t sniff the hand. She doesn’t move at all.

I take off her old collar and put on her new one.

I’m probably making her even more anxious, but it feels important, not because it has on it her ID tag. This, of course, is very important, but I’m not thinking about that. I just feel I want to give her something new.

Looking back, I guess that I was claiming her.

The courier picks her up gently and carries her across the road. He takes her into her new home. He puts her down in the hall where she stands, looking lost.

His partner gives me the paperwork and a large bag of the food which Isis has become used to eating since she was found.

They leave.

The rest is history (as they say).

You know that our early years were not always easy.

Did I think that one day she’d be a happy, confident, playful dog?


Did I imagine she’d ever trust me to groom any bit of her which needed grooming?

No way.

Could I envisage a day when she could run and play off the lead in the park, come to find me, or walk beside me?

Absolutely not.

Have I ever regretted adopting her?

No, I haven’t.

Kerry told me while Isis was still in Portugal what a brave little dog she was, and, my goodness, she is.

She has achieved all of the list of things I never thought that she could. And more. She is happy, confident and playful. She puts up with her grooming sessions and bathing, which she hates. She loves exploring off lead in the park, walks most days in the woods with Rufus and Nancy. And doesn’t run away – although she often ventures off-piste!

She’s no lap dog, but she greets me joyfully each morning and will lean against me while I pat and stroke her. Much to my surprise, her heartiest surge of tail wagging occurs when I kiss her muzzle. Perhaps it’s because that’s how dog friends greet each other.

Thank you Aeza. Thank you Dogwatch U.K.

I love my hairy podengo.





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 or

Posted in Uncategorized | 10 Comments

gentleman Blitz



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


Sunday August 25th 2019


This is the tale of Isis Podengo and her friend Gentleman Blitz.

They have known each other for several years. Though they rarely interact, they are clearly perfectly comfortable around each other.

Rescue dog Blitz is a ball mad, dashing, rushing, jumping fellow. But he is gentle and polite around Isis, even his greeting sniffs are restrained and deferential.






It’s Wednesday. Friend Y. finds a nice blue ball on a string. Blitz will like this, she thinks. He does. He finds it delicious. Without pause for thought, he tears a a large slice out of it.

When Y distracts him with another ball, I rescue the abandoned prize and ask if Isis may have it. She loves dangly things and won’t mind at all that there’s a piece missing. She’s not proud.

I don’t give it to her there and then, but shove it into my pocket. As we know, Isis tends to become overwhelmed by a sense of responsibility for her toys, and if I give them to her in the park, she usually sets off back to the car with them.

Much better, I think, if she ‘happens’ to come across it in the park.

The next day I sneak it out of the car, intending to let her play for a while before she ‘finds’ the ball on a string.

I settle on my usual comfortable log and wait for her to trot off to her dance stage.

She doesn’t. Instead, she sniffs in an ever decreasing circle closer and closer to me. What on earth is she doing?

Slowly it dawns on me. She can smell the ball and she wants it.

I toss it a few yards away, and within a couple of minutes she finds it. She’s very chuffed indeed.





She doesn’t attempt to take it back to the car. She trots around with it, runs up and down with it, spins around with it, lets it go, dervish whirls away, and, after a few mad minutes, comes back to reclaim over it.

She’s having a lovely time. Plenty of exercise. Good.

Then up the slope comes Ollie, the park bully. He’s rather like a muzzled bumper car. He bears down on Blitz, their hackles rise, and then off they go rip-roaring over the meadow, between the trees, up and down the slope and through the long grass, in wild, wide loops.

When the game is finished, Ollie is walking away towards his human, when, suddenly, he catches sight of Isis who is innocently playing with her dangly ball.

“Whurraff!, shouts Ollie rudely, “Whurraff!”, and he pounds over to her.

Y. and I are not close enough to protect her, but as soon as he sees Ollie menacing her, Blitz rushes over, heads Ollie off and stands in front of her, chest stuck out, head lifted, stock still, glaring at the interloper.

Bully boy’s human captures him and leads him away. Blitz stays around for a few minutes, sniffing the grass, checks out Hairy One, marks the log and then wanders off amicably. He knows that she has his ball, but he’s too well-mannered to snatch it from her.

Amazingly, tail erect, she carries on playing as though nothing has happened.

Well I never!


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 or

Posted in adopted dogs, Highbury Park, oh dear, park dogs, scenting, walking in the park | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments

off to the kennels ……… sniff!



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


Wednesday August 21st 2019


How we humans suffer when we leave our pets in kennels and catteries, however good the establishments are. And how exciting it is to go to fetch them home.

Isis has always done very well at Hollytrees. They know her there, and understand her needs. She shows no signs of trauma, thank goodness.

Previous dog Ellie was only left in kennels twice. The first time she was about six months old, sociable, friendly and playful. Her stay was only for two nights and she had sensible companion Rush, my border collie, in the pen next door.

When we returned to collect the dogs, we were told that Rush had been fine but Ellie had been impossible. She had hardly eaten, and growled and snarled ferociously when anyone passed her run, let alone attempted to open its door.

I was asked if I’d mind collecting her from her run myself. When I approached her quarters, she burst into a paroxysm of rage, barking, growling, and snarling. As soon as she recognised me, of course, she flung herself at me with joyful little cries and delighted wriggles.

The second time she was left, it was for a week. This time, the lady in charge spent a long time getting to know her, there was a huge run and and time out each day with other dogs. On this occasion, she was a calm and responsive guest, but noticeably anxious for a while afterwards.

One of my previous cats, Mini, hated boarding. She always refused to leave the cat carrier except to use her tray. She was fed in the carrier, and at bed time the staff would put the carrier, with Mini in it, into her sleeping quarters. In the morning the carrier, plus its incumbent, was lifted out again.

Back at home, for at least a week, sometimes longer, Mini refused to interact with her humans. She sat close by on the back of the sofa, but faced the wall. No amount of cajoling would entice her to turn round.

Dog Rush once hid in the driver’s foot-well while I waited for someone to open the gate at Hollytrees.

Little Isis never complains when I take her there. When T. takes her away, Hairy One waits for me to follow. But when T. leads her on, she just looks sad, sort of resigned, and walks away.  She is very well cared for, and understands the layout of the bedroom and run. She is always very well looked after, and emerges looking healthy and smelling nice.

In the past, she showed no emotion when I fetched her, just wagged her tail a little when she recognised her house.

The last few times she’s been very pleased to see me.

Last Tuesday, she realised that I had come to fetch her as soon as she was led onto the bottom of the yard. She tugged at her lead eagerly as she came towards me.

And I got two pink and black spotted nose nuzzles around my eyes.




It’s so good to be back in the park.





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 or

Posted in a very good dog, dear little Isis, Highbury Park, Isis at Hollytrees | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments