collecting Isis

 

 

 

A post should appear each Sunday!

 

Sunday May 8th 2022

 

Isis: There’s more about you than about me.

Human: We’re a team Isis.

 

On Wednesday afternoon I take a newly clipped Isis

 

 

 

 

to Hollytrees Animal Rescue Centre and kennels to stay with Ray (whom I’ve known for well over fifty years) T. and A.

They know Isis, and she knows and trusts them all. Usually, I hand over the lead, and off she trots. This time though, there is no free kennel near the door. There are occupied kennels on either side of the aisle, and Isis is very reluctant to walk to her spot near the far end.

My last view of her is of four very resistant pink feet. However much I know that she’ll be very well cared for, her resistance and the little pink feet stay with me, so I feel even sadder than usual to leave her.

The next day I phone Hollytrees and speak to S., who is new since Isis’s last stay. She reassures me that Isis has settled in, is happy to approach her carers, and is eating well.

Relieved, off I go to Bingley, Yorkshire, to visit my nephew Nick.

On Saturday morning, I don’t feel like eating, and decide to have coffee and a snack on the train. The trolley service was excellent on the way up, so when we leave Leeds, I wait, anticipating coffee and a sandwich.

Half an hour passes. Fortunately, I have a bottle of water with me, but having not eaten anything since 7.30 the evening before, I’m beginning to feel very hungry.

Several times I hear the increasingly welcome news,”Ah, they’re getting the trolley ready.”

But it’s a false alarm.

Yes, from time to time, Northern Line persons appear in the little kitchen from which the refreshment trolley usually emerges; but then they go away again, and no refreshments are forthcoming.

I am even more hungry when we reach Birmingham.

I had hoped that I’d be able to grab something edible on New Street Station concourse, but Isis has to be picked up by four, and I don’t pass a food stall as I rush towards the taxi rank.

The roads are very crowded, and I’m anxious that I’ll not make it to the kennels in time; however, I arrive at my house at 3.40, so I steam in, grab a Crunchie bar and a handful of biscuits and shoot off to Wythall.

I arrive in good time, but the day has not finished with me yet.

I park, leaving open a window close to the hedge so that the car will not be too warm for Hairy One. I turn off the engine, but it’s difficult to release the key from the ignition.

On my third attempt, the key snaps off in the lock.

Great.

Never mind, I’m sure the R.A.C. will be able to sort it.

I go into the yard where T. tells me Isis is on the way.

S. leads out a bright, happy looking Isis who walks up very close to T., sniffs her, and wags her tail. She is fond of her carers here. I really didn’t need to worry about her pink-pawed reluctance when she was taken to her kennel on Wednesday.

She soon sniffs me out, and approaches, wagging her tail. It’s great to see her again. I’ve really missed her, even though she’s only been away since Wednesday afternoon.

Before putting Isis in the car, I ask Tracey if I can borrow pliers to get the key out of the lock: she volunteers Adam who, clearly, knows about cars.

It’s not easy to remove the key. Added to this, I haven’t brought the spare key with me.

I’ll phone the RAC.

But my phone isn’t in my pocket. I must have put it down in the kitchen when I grabbed my Crunchie and biscuits.

So I have to ask if I can use the office phone.

“Of course you can,”  I’m told.

I explain the situation to the RAC, who manage to locate me on their records, despite the fact that I’m so stressed that I can’t remember the car’s registration number – and it’s a very easy one, the first I’ve ever been able to recall at the drop of a hat.

Phew.

My relief is short-lived.

I am told that my policy does not cover keys. They will come out but it will cost £160! Alternatively, they can give me the number of a company which will cut new keys on the spot. Or I could phone my car insurance company, the RAC man suggests.

Wonderful!

No I couldn’t. I’m using the Hollytrees office phone, and the kennels should be closing down at five.

When I emerge, A. has worked out a way of firing up the engine, but it keeps cutting out again. It sounds as he’s run down the battery, A. tells me. I explain that it’s a new, heavy duty battery and shouldn’t die so easily.

He wonders if the problem could be the immobiliser. He has tried placing the fob as close as he can to the ignition, but it’s possible that it needs to be touching the ignition in order to disable the immobiliser. It’s worth trying the spare key.

But the spare key, of course, is at home.

I will walk Isis down the lane, we’ll go home on the bus, and I’ll return with the key. It’ll be no problem.

Then T. tells me that she will drive me home if A will stay with Isis and the car. He says that of course he will. He will remove the key so I can use the spare one.

This isn’t fair, I tell them. It will be easy for me to get the bus. They very generously insist. A. tells me that if the car can’t be started, he will give Isis and me a lift back on his way home.

I leave a calm and relaxed Isis in the car, and off we go.

When we return, I can’t believe that the car will start, but just in case it does, I thank T.and A. for their kindness, for the time they have given in order to help me.

I turn the spare key in the lock, and, miraculously, the car springs into action.

Adam is right: the immobiliser won’t be overriden unless it connects with the ignition.

I turn round at the entrance to Baccy Box Lane.

By now there is a group of well- wishers outside Hollytrees, and they all yell and wave as we sail past.

I feel overwhelmed by how kind T. and A. have been.

When we arrive home, Isis has a sardine with her kibble, and I heat a frozen pizza and a large can of baked beans.

Then we both stretch out on the day bed, Isis leaning on my legs, and fall 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.

This entry was posted in crisis, dear little Isis, Isis in trouble, Isis says "No"., oh dear, sleeping, something's not right, these dogs!, what on earth's the matter?, who'd be a human? and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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