Hanging by a thread

Friday 10th

Isis is suspiciously quiet this morning

Ahh yes!

Isis in Wales 041

Sigh!

Unfortunately this was my newest polo necked sweater. Isis is unmoved.

A wild hour and a half at the beach this morning leaves Isis wet and hyper. I attempt to dry her. She squirms and wriggles, dancing from one back leg to the other. She stays wet. I get wetter. We are each determined to win this battle. Once again I wrap the towel round her middle but this time I hold her against me remembering that she likes to lean, and gently pat her through the towel. She subsides.

Kerry has told me Isis quite enjoyed having her back brushed. As soon as I begin, Isis lies down looking relaxed. I move to her side and sneakily include a portion of tail. Continuing to stroke her back I manage a few brushes of her ears, the top of her head, the side of her face and, for the first time, even under her chin. But not for long as I realise I’m pushing my luck here. She looks beautiful. Temporarily. (She is, after all, a dog.)

Saturday 11th

After today’s visit to the sea Isis, still wet, joins me in the garden and helps to dig a trench. Very soon her whiskers, ears and lovely white legs are black with soil. She is extremely indignant when I dip each paw in turn in a clean cat tray full of water.

In the evening Isis is restless, pacing up and down the hall and every now and then poking her head round the front room door. She would like to join us but once more Daisy, the feline fiend, has taken up residence in the bed.

Isis in Wales 003

Polymath suggests it is Isis’s turn for some quality time and the feline fiend is taken upstairs and locked in the bathroom, where she sits on the window sill glaring malevolently out over the garden.

We bring Isis into the front room.. She has not experienced the door closed before, so we prop a foam seat cushion against it to reduce the impact if she tries to walk through.

Isis is dissatisfied with this arrangement. She flips the cushion over, pulls it away from the door, adjusts its position gently with her teeth and flops down onto it with a contented  sigh.

After a much needed nap it’s time for mountaineering.

First an investigative sniff or two and then she springs onto an empty chair and checks around to find out what advantage the additional height has given her. She is able to put her front paws on the table and root around among the items she finds there. Next, she stands on her back legs with her front paws over the back of the chair and gives the bookcase a good sniff.

The second unoccupied chair is much taller. From here she is able to peruse the top of the bureau but not before she has picked up a large wicker table mat. She sits contentedly with it in her mouth but surrenders it without protest.

For her next act she attempts to reach me in the adjacent chair and spectacularly misjudges the distance. She ends with her right side on my lap and her  left side in the gap between the chair and a side table. Just as the rest of her is about to follow, I manage to haul her up. She is not in the least perturbed.

Finally, she returns to the first chair. Again she stands on the seat facing the back of the chair with her front paws dangling fetchingly over the edge. Without any warning, she leaps over the back. There is a sickening crash as she lands. I leap up imagining broken teeth, legs or back. She stands behind the chair, one leg in the wastepaper bin. She looks  dazed but, thank goodness, she is O.K.

A nerve wracking but entertaining evening has been had by all  Except, perhaps, the feline.

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