September 1st 2014

When Kerry first told me that the Hairy Immigrant’s name is ‘Isis’, I thought I would change it as soon as I could for a similar sounding name, even though Kerry insisted she had named Isis for the river, not the terrorist group.

I have visions of shouting, “Isis!” and all the people in Kings Heath Park dropping face down onto the ground.

My friend tells me to stop being silly – the group will be transitory. Isis must keep her name.

Today, Isis had her first walk. Slowly, gingerly, she allowed me to take her round the block. She seemed to like being out and about.

In the evening I take her to the park. When urged along the  shady avenues of trees, she is very fearful, tugging strongly to retreat to where it is safe.

Further along, she stops again and refuses to move. After fifteen minutes, I foolishly pull on her harness. This, of course, increases her fear. I will not do that again.

I wait and after a further fifteen minutes, she carefully moves forward.

“O.K.,”  I tell her, “I won’t pull you. You won’t pull me. I won’t make you go forward but you won’t make me go back.”

From now on, it’s a waiting game.