A post should appear every Sunday

Sunday January 21st 2024

Isis isn’t one to bear grudges, and her scary vet visit is soon put behind her, although I am sure she will shiver and shudder when we next have to go.

For the remainder of the week, she is a contented little dog. She’s enjoying her walks and happy to sniff around for at least an hour.

Because picking up trails and responding to other creatures’ territorial markings are her main pleasures, we walk in rotation to Kings Heath Park, Highbury Park and Holders Lane. In this way, I conjecture, there will be numerous fresh scents for her on every outing.

She is particularly drawn to the scents which she comes across towards dusk. I guess that little crespuscular mammals are venturing from their daytime cover by then; consequently, she is very reluctant to leave, and several times we find ourselves virtually alone as she insists on pursuing yet another fascinating trail.

One evening we are followed out of Holders Woods by another dog walker’s car, leaving the usually busy car park empty behind us, and needing our headlights on for the drive home, and several times we leave Highbury to find ours is the only car parked in Yew Tree Road.

The mud seems always with us, and it proves impossible to keep Isis out of it without curtailing her enjoyment of the outdoors.

On Friday the temperature drops to  – 5% overnight, so we have a very hard frost, and much of the mud is turned into lovely crisp ridges.

We have walked through Holders Woods, almost into Cannon Hill Park when we descend to the asphalted path which follows the Rea. Isis loves to walk on the very narrow track which runs close to the river as far as the penultimate bridge, but we have had so much rain that for months I’ve had to head her off.

In places, the walkway, owing to erosion, is only a few inches wide, and the beginning of it has turned into a glistening sea of dank mud. There’s a world of difference, I decide, between a little risk taking and total foolhardiness. Besides, it’s much too cold for a small dog and her human to be taking an impromtu dip in the river.

Today, however, much of the mud is frozen, so I release Hairy from her lead – put on because, ten minutes ago, she decided she’d had enough of this boring walk and headed off towards the car.

Now, of course, her attitude is quite different, and she leads the way eagerly along the little track.

I soon realise that the ground is not as firm as I had optimistically anticipated: there are many patches which have been so well trampled that they remain very sticky; here and there is the odd skid mark where someone, animal or human, has lost their footing.

It’s very hard going. Sometimes there are branches which one can hang onto to navigate a patricularly large and treacherous looking mud patch, but more often than not one can only move cautiously, deliberating over where is the least slidy spot on which to plant one’s claggy boot.

Isis has always astonished me with her ability to follow the narrow track, but now I am beginning to worry about her. I have put her in danger, and need to watch her very carefully.

Some excellent conservation work has been done along the opposite bank, which has been built up to preempt flooding and to improve the flow of the water. The river is so clear that you can see even the smallest pebbles and leaves on its bed. It’s much deeper than before, and it’s tumbling along at a fine old rate. Good to see, but a little scary too, to think what could happen to a small hairy dog if it fell in.

This was really not one of Human’s most brilliant ideas.

Years ago, my little dog Ellie, always adventurous, but usually sensible, decided that a paddle in the Rea would be just the thing. She loved water, and was a strong swimmer, but the weather was stormy, and there was an unusually strong current.

To my horror, she was swept off her feet and carried backwards towards a small waterfall. She was dog-paddling with all her strength against the flow, but losing ground rapidly. Had she been carried over the waterfall, she could have been flung against the jagged stones and been badly injured, even drowned. I raced along the bank, overtook her just before the waterfall, and managed to hold onto a root and drag her by her collar out of the water.

And here I am, exposing my deaf/blind dog to real danger.

But Isis understands the danger. She can smell the proximity of the water, and probably feel its vibrations. When she reaches a place where the path has virtually disappeared, she sniffs the air, stands stock still and waits for me. I grasp her collar and she allows me to guide her into the undergrowth and round the gap.

Then she sets off again, confident as ever. We are not far away from the bridge now, and she is following the track as well as she always does on dry, sunny days; nevertheless, I have foolishly underestimated the challenges there will be for her, and I carefully watch her every move.

Not far to go now.

Then one slip suages into a slide, a swift, slopy slide towards the water.

SPLEROOSH! WAAAAGH (as they say in the Beano comic).

But it’s not Isis.

Of course not.

It’s silly Human.

Isis is standing on my left. As my feet slither over the edge of the bank, I grab her strong little body. She crouches with the impact, and looks bewildered, but she digs her claws into firm earth, and doesn’t loose her footing. With my left hand on her back to steady me, I wrestle my left knee from where it is firmly embedded in gluey mud, and stagger to my feet.

Now the crisis is resolved, Hairy One is back to her normal self and ready to proceed. Before she sets off, I pat her and tell her what a good dog she is.

And I worry about her!

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.