where’s the car?



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


Wednesday September 5th 2018


Thank you for all the lovely comments made on Hairy One’s gotcha day post, and apologies to Isabel whom I forgot was the volunteer who went to collect Isis.

I am very grateful for the dry weather which makes it possible for Isis to play in the garden. Although we have managed to walk to Kings Heath Park three times over the last ten days, it’s not been easy to persuade her that yes, it’s definitely what she most wants to do.

Even though we only attempt the walk on damp, cloudy days, on one of these  three outings she spends  almost all of her off the lead time sitting morosely under the fir tree in her favourite Colour Garden shrubbery.

Perhaps the light isn’t quite right.

On a bright day, of course, I’ve no chance of persuading her to move  more than a few yards from the  gate.

But even when it’s sunny, she’ll allow herself to be nudged out onto the pavement so that she can walk smartly to the space where the car used to be parked.

Once there, she sniffs around where the car doors should be and looks depressed. Then she tugs me urgently back towards the gate.

She loves going in the car. Poor Isis. Where has that car gone?

To the car’s graveyard, I’m afraid. I kept it running by filling up the coolant tank every other day – or every day if we we ventured further than a couple of miles away.

I managed to persuade it to take us to the R.S.P.C.A. for Hairy One’s anal glands to be dealt with and to collect two month’s supply of Daisy’s thyroid tablets, two days before my shoulder operation. But its head gasket was on its way out and would have cost £6oo.00 to replace as the engine would have had to be stripped down.

The car was over nineteen years old and, unsurprisingly, was becoming tired of life. The starter motor also needed replacing: the spring which returns the key to a neutral position had broken and unless I remembered to return the key manually, on starting, the engine emitted a ear piercing screech which could be heard well down the road. The sunroof was on its last legs and one of the windows wasn’t working. Its worst rust patch was kept in place with duct tape.

I’m hoping to replace it with a small vehicle not quite so old, as soon as I am able to drive again.

C. , the garage owner, asks me if there are any colours I really couldn’t stand. Not pink or purple, I tell him. And most certainly not lavender. I may be old, but I don’t want to look like the opening scene of ‘Miss Marple’s Last Case.’

Isis will not get into a car which she doesn’t know, unless I’m already sitting in it. If I’m on my own when she’s introduced to her little Hyundai i10, I’ll have to fill it with stuff which smells of us.

Then off we’ll go to Highbury again!





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



This entry was posted in Isis and Daisy, strange behaviour, we don't like the dark and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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