A post should appear each Sunday!

 

Sunday April 10th 2022

 

It took this dopey blogger several months to realise that the reason she was unable to upload new images or videos was that the blog’s media library was full. She had misinterpreted the messages from WordPress. As always, the experts speak in an impenetrable code. Human would have understood if they’d said, ‘ Your media library is full. Delete stuff.’

Last week she wondered if erasing several thousand irrelevant images could possibly help, and hey presto!

Conclusion: Not the most competent I.T. person. Should always seek advice from someone more sensible. Not hard to find someone more sensible.

Anyway, it’s brilliant to be able to upload current Isis images again.

So what’s new?

Well, there’s the temporary door step which I was lucky enough to be gifted by a local Freegler. I mentioned it a while ago. Here it is.

 

 

 

 

 

And here is Isis demonstrating how to use it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then there’s her new dining room fixture.

 

 

 

 

She didn’t notice this, but never mind, it looks quite smart. (Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about the decor. The evidence of past times when Hairy One went up the wall – literally – while defending her food from imagined creatures  – is still there.) The rest of the kitchen doesn’t look quite like this, honestly.

Now we come to this week. We’ve been having some lovely walks. Isis’s recent decision to tolerate patches of sunlight and shadow as long as I’m on the other end of her lead is very liberating: it means that we can walk to Isis-friendly areas like woodlands.

It’s not difficult to interpret her body language. The rapid descent of her tail until it becomes invisible = ‘EEEEEEEK! I’m frightened. Put my lead back on quick.’ While her tail popping back up = ‘Now take the lead off again and set me free to follow this scent.’

On the very changeable days which have characterised this and last month’s weather, Human is up and down like the proverbial yo-yo.

Sigh.

But this arrangement works well for us, and, who knows, it could be good for my health.

On one day this week, just before I intend to take her out, the sun goes in and the sky becomes helpfully grey. Then, as we step over the threshhold, the sun flashes out, the grey immediately dissipates, and Isis becomes rooted to the spot.

Fortunately, I manage to persuade her that we can reach the car safely, and she flinches her way forward.

It looks as though the sun is set in for the day, so when we get out of the car in Kings Heath Park, it seems ridiculous to put on waterproof trousers.

As we follow the familiar paths, the sky darkens a little, and Isis sets off happily down past the old bowling green towards some of her favourite places. We are just walking past the conifers, climbing the slope on the other side of the old bowling green, when the sky turns black and it begins to rain.

Isis, of course, is very pleased. She begins to trot.

I’m unconcerned. I’m used to these light showers. They don’t last long.

But the light rain becomes more insistent. Isis is delighted and begins to run around on the field above the old green. Hmm. It’s lasting longer than I expected. I’m going to get a bit damp, but hey, never mind, Hairy One’s so happy.

Then it happens: the drops becomes heavier and heavier until there’s a deluge, and a cold, strong wind whips the rain in sheets across the field.

Glancing around, I realise that there is no other person or dog in sight, and the downpour is obliterating the outlines of trees and hedges. My sodden jeans are draining into my waterproof walking boots, and when I wiggle my feet, I can feel water sloshing around between my toes.

Oh dear.

But my little dog is in seventh heaven. She’s racing up and down, head raised and jaws snapping. She’s eating the rain.

It’s getting late, but she’s so high, I can’t bring myself to take her back to the car park. Anyway, I can’t get any wetter.

We linger on the field for another twenty minutes.

When we reach home, I wring out my jeans and socks, put on dry clothes and hurry downstairs to dry Isis. I recall the first time I dried her and she flipped into hysteria. She quite likes being dried nowadays, but I have to be very, very careful or she takes offence.

Like a snail on tranquilisers, I go over her with the lightest of little pats.

It seems to take for ever, and I’m an hour late for my art group.

It was a lovely walk though, and when I return three and a half hours later, Isis is fast asleep.

 

Isis came from Aeza cat and dog rescue in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@azea.org or go to http://www.dogwatch.co.uk.