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

Sunday August 18th 2019

What a relief that the kennels situation is resolved.

Home from the vet’s, poor Isis is subjected to a very long and thorough bath and rear end trim.

She hates every minute, of course. Why wouldn’t she? She has warm water drizzled through her coat until she is soaked to the skin; shampoo is worked into her hair, even into her beard and the streaming strands around her ears.

When she decides that enough is enough, she lifts one sad, sodden, little front paw out of the sink and plonks it on the draining board. Before she succeeds in lifting up the other front paw to join it, nasty Human returns the paw to the sink. Hairy One lifts the other front paw, and the same thing happens. We have a little paw dance, but Isis is defeated.

The torment continues. In fact, things get worse. Human wields the dreaded scissors and trims around Dog’s private parts. Not so private, now, poor little creature.

She knows this isn’t right. She growls and grabs my hand. I don’t blame her: she’s been very patient. I’m expecting a bite, but I don’t get one. She holds my hand firmly between her two rows of sharp teeth for a few seconds, then releases it unmarked.

Dear little dog. I’m  impressed. And very touched. “What a good little dog,” I tell her, “What a very good little dog.”

I rinse her, wrap her in a large towel, and squeeze out as much water as I can. Then we both have our breakfast before setting off for the park.

She’ll only have two fifteen minute outings a day while she’s in kennels, so I plan to give her a couple of hours in Highbury before I leave her at Hollytrees.

Much to my surprise, she’s reluctant to leave the car. Then, having fulfilled her obligations, she turns back towards the car park.

When I persuade her to venture onto the meadow – which normally she returns to happily every day – she walks cautiously by my side until I take off her harness.

Then, instead of trotting off to enjoy the space, she stops in her tracks and stands stock still.

She’ll not move until I return to her side and tap-tap under her chin. And tap-tap again. And again. When I stop tapping, she stops moving.

We’ve only moved on a few feet. Again I tap. She walks slowly forward. I stop tapping. She stops walking.

This is very strange. Clearly, she’s not terrified, just wary and apprehensive.

I walk over to a log and sit down.

She lifts her head and sniffs the air.

I wait and watch her.

She begins to sniff her way towards me. When she reaches me, she lies down very close to my feet, and there she stays, head raised, sniffing the air.

This is unheard of. She never wastes her time sitting with Human when there’s all that space to enjoy.

She’s definitely not happy. Something is wrong. Something which she is aware of, and I am not.

Obviously, she is not about to run around and enjoy herself. What a shame.

She seems quite relieved when I fasten on her harness, and walks, briskly now, by my side to the car park.

Once home, she’s fine. I let her play in the garden until it’s time to go.

That evening, as I sit in the house, dogless, I learn that there have been thunder storms around Birmingham.

I guess that she sensed danger. But I heard nothing, and she is deaf!

How did she know?

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