apologies

Posted on March 4, 2024 by patinkingsheath

 

 

Monday March 4th 2024

 

Apologies – post will appear later today. (Sorry Tony!)

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a dog would like to swap humans

Posted on February 25, 2024 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday February 24th 2024

 

Well, it’s been a hectic week for a dog.

On Wednesday we dash off early to see Lee at Dogma (previously Chester’s corner) in Kings Norton. I know that he has his diet food delivery on Tuesdays, and am anxious to get a giant bag of the food which Isis likes best: Angus Beef with sweet potato and carrot. This variety disappears from the stock more quickly that the others.

Isis and I park up, and go into the shop where Lee is advising another customer. He always gives his customers as much time as they need to make decisions. I stand guard over the Angus Beef, as there are only two bags left, and at the same time, cast an eye at the harnesses.

The harness I last bought Isis is useless: a very bad choice. I can only think that I was seduced by the colour, which is scarlet, and looks very fetching against her white hair.

On the downside, it is flimsy, has to be put on over both her front feet at the same time –  which is a messy job in wet, muddy (i.e. British) weather; it fastens across her back with broad velcro straps which quickly become clogged with hair, and when she is feeling recalcitrant, she can go into reverse, and pull her naughty, fluffy head out of it in two seconds. Then of course, Human has to undo it and replace it via Hairy’s by then sodden, hairy feet.

It can only be adjusted by pulling the velcro strap further over its companion, leaving the end of the strap flapping over her back. Most importantly, I am convinced that if I do an emergency stop, it’ll break apart.

We seek Lee’s advice, and he fetches two smart, black, Anchor harnesses, one of which is designed for both travelling in the car, and walking. The latter sounds ideal.

“Shall we try it on, then?,” asks Lee. I reply that I think we’d better not, best try it on Isis, lest passers-by conclude that we are engaged in some master-slave ritual. Always the smart arse, I can’t help it, but Lee has a ready sense of humour and we both have a good snigger.

Isis stands patiently on the shop floor, and Lee kneels beside her. It’s always difficult to work out how to adjust a stiff, new dog harness, and I watch as Lee attempts to find the correct sequence of under the left leg, over the head, and then manages to locate the clip which is buried deep in her hair. He apologises to her when he has to go back to the beginning in order to tighten up the strap. Isis knows Lee, and is quite comfortable with all this adjusting and readjusting.

I am delighted with the purchases, and it’s been good to see Lee again. He heaves the bag of food into the boot, and we leave for our walk.

Then it’s off to the vet’s for poor Isis’s routine anal gland emptying.

We are a few minutes early, so I have time to weigh her. As always, she stands still while I  position her, tuck in her tail, and read her weight. She’s exactly fifteen kilos.

Perfect.

While we sit in the waiting area, she shudders and trembles. The last time we came, she had her nails clipped too; although the vet was very careful and very gentle, she remembers the time before when her quick was nipped, so I expect resistance.

However, it’s Poppy, her favourite veterinary nurse. She offers Isis her hand, and allows her to have a good sniff, after which Isis relaxes. True, she tries a handstand or two, but there’s not a growl to be heard.

The rest of the week passes quietly. Alyn begins work on the kitchen, sorting all the electrics, then screwing straps into the wall ready for boxing in the unsightly piping. Each evening, I sand part of the upstairs landing, using his professional sander which sucks all the dust into a large filtered tank, so it’s not even necessary to wear a mask.

The work is very noisy, but this, of course, doesn’t upset Isis. Although her ears flicker, as she registers the resounding vibrations, she cannot hear a thing. My poor border collies would have been beside themselves, but she is completely unperturbed.

In this way, we sail through life until Friday. We have the house to ourselves from Thursday until Tuesday, and Alyn leaves his set of our keys here for the weekend. I put them away carefully in a drawer.

Which shouldn’t be a problem …………

Human is irritable because she gets up very late. In an attempt to bring herself round, she has a shower. She will take Isis out, then drive to Wicke’s for varnish, new brushes, wax and sanding triangles for the palm sander.

But she can’t find her wallet. As she looks in the places where the wallet is kept, she becomes more and more exasperated. Without the wallet, she can’t get the stuff she needs. After about thirty minutes, she spots it where it has no right to be – lying in the shadows, on the floor by the day bed.

Never mind, there’s still plenty of time for a walk before the D.I.Y. shopping spree.

Isis and Human step out of the front door.

As soon as it clicks shut, Human realises with  horror that she took off the string of keys which she always keeps hanging round her neck – for reasons unquestioned by those who know her well – before her shower, and forgot to pick them up afterwards.

It doesn’t take long to assess the situation. Isis and Human are trapped between the front door and the porch door. The keys to which are upstairs.

Friend Yasmin has a set, but she will not be back from work for an hour or more. Nigel opposite has keys but he has shut up shop and, I assume, set off for home.

Oh dear.

To make matters worse, Isis, who is only a locked door away from her walk, sets up a bark to remind me, I assume, that all I have to do is to open it.

Grrrrrrrrrr.

Then, thanks be to Dog, I catch sight of Nigel walking along the opposite pavement to the paper shop. I open the window and yell his name as loudly as I can.

I keep yelling, but he doesn’t hear me. He disappears into the paper shop.

Eeeeeek! So near and yet so far.

Then a young guy passes the gate. I bang on the glass of the porch door as though I’m trying to smash my way through it, and shriek, “Help! Help!”

He hears me and comes to the window. I describe Nigel, explain that he has keys and is in the paper shop. It takes several attempts to communicate the message, as Isis, not pleased that someone is loitering on her property, barks loudly each time I open my mouth.

The young man looks at me as though I am completely doolally, but goes to alert Nigel to our predicament.

Nigel, always the gentleman, unlocks his shop, locks it again, and brings over the keys.

He is always helpful, and watches out for his near neighbours.

But I’m sure he’d not choose a neighbour like me.

 

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.

 

Posted in a very good dog, a vet visit, Chester's Corner, crisis, deaf/blind dog, dear little Isis, Isis at home, Isis knows best, learning to trust, oh dear, patience is a virtue., poor Isis, relationship building, these dogs!, what on earth's the matter?, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

to pastures green

Posted on February 18, 2024 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday February 18th 2024

 

On Thursday, Bev kindly picks us up and takes us to Highbury. I lift Isis into the front with me, but she trembles, shudders and shakes all the way there. After she has sniffed her way around what seems like every inch of vegetation in the park, she jumps into the car without any prompting, and settles down without even a shiver.

I am very surprised by this, but Bev has always thought that the ‘other people’s cars’ phobia arises from the many times last year when I was up and down to Leeds, and Isis was left at the kennels, often when she’d only been home again for a few days.

On Friday it suddenly occurs to me that I might at least phone my car insurer to check what my status is as a temporarily one-eyed driver. Pessimistic as ever, I’d just assumed that the response would be negative.

I explain the surgeon’s comment that I am capable of driving but that my insurance company could dispute any claim and would probably not cover me. The helpline lady checks this out and returns to tell me that it’s fine, cover is not a problem.

Thinking about it, I guess this makes sense because my company installs a little black box which monitors one’s driving, so if I drive on the wrong side of the road, over someone’s front garden, accelerate wildly, or execute a three point turn in the fast lane of a motorway, they will be notified promptly.

I am, of course, delighted, and poor Isis, who has long ago given up standing hopefully by the car, is very pleasantly surprised.

How wonderful to be able to take her to the park again! And good for me too, to see people and pat dogs I’ve not seen for weeks. I am being very cautious, and only driving to Kings Heath and Highbury parks, and to Holders Woods’ fields.

Isis is in the sniffer’s seventh heaven: over the last few weeks, so many creatures have frequented these open spaces, that she runs out of pee after a few yards. She’s such a happy dog.

It’s been puzzling for a dog on the home front too. After years of neglect, our house is gradually being transformed from a hovel to a home. Alyn, super star painter and decorator, is working his magic; consequently, the hall, stairs and landing are pristine white, the manky, chipped door frames and architraves gleam, and the ‘Brass Mesh’ yellow of the front door, bright and deep, is a joy to behold.

Apart from being highly skilled and a very neat worker, Alyn has an excellent colour sense, and points out how even the yellow candle in the hall ‘speaks’ to the yellow front door.

The results of his work are uplifting. So much so that Human has been galvanised into action, claiming  two beautiful antique glass jars from a freegler, collecting fallen branches from beneath Kings Heath Park’s corkscrew hazel (Corylus avellam Contorta, in case you were wondering), staining them with deep yellow hue, and placing them on the front window sill so that they can ‘speak to’ the door. They’re speaking.

So what has all this to do with Hairy One? Well, first, of course, she had to become aquainted with Alyn, as described in a previous post. Now, once she has sniffed him out each morning, she gives him friendly wags, even, at times, asking for a stroke or two, and isn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable with his being in her house

Keeping her voluminously hairy tail away from every newly painted area sometimes feels like a new career, as I shepherd her into the middle of the hall and through the dead centre of doorways, rush to divert her from sniffing the front door too closely, and recapture her when she manages to nudge open a door and escape into the world of wet skirtings, door frames and architraves.

Currently, the woodwork in the porch is being painted, so zigzagging her through this enclosed space and out of the porch door is a challenging manoeuvre. Fortunately, she is used to being guided round obstacles, and tolerates all the extra steering with equinimity.

In the evenings, she is left downstairs on her own for at least two hours while newly energised Human waxes the pine doors, which should have been done two years ago. Each door needs two layers on both sides, so that’s twenty eight sides. I’m doing two sides a night. Sometimes, Isis barks to let me know that she feels abandoned, and I have to go down to reassure her that I’m still here.

When I’ve finished for the night, I spend a few hours downstairs with her. She usually shuffles herself to my side, so I guess she forgives me.

Every night, I smoothe her whiskers, head and ears with a very soft brush which she loves, clean her eyes – which she does not love, and give her a quick, all-over brushing with a stiff brush to preempt any potential tangles. Every other night she has a thorough groom. She’s not crazy about this, but sits or stands up as required and puts up with it.

Then it’s out into the garden and back in for bedtime treats.

She does very well, for someone so hairy. She’s a very well behaved, cooperative little dog in the house, and so far, there’s not even one Isis hair embedded in the paint work.

She’ll have some more adjusting to do next week when Alyn tackles the kitchen. That’ll be hard for her, as she is used to wandering in at will. She doesn’t like her food stand to be moved into the back room, but needs must.

Her dining space is to be tiled, and the evidence of her earlier wild cavourting up the wall – dog food stains a couple of feet high – erased for ever.

So far, so good.

Thank goodness she’s not begun her spring moult yet.

That would have been a laugh a minute – not!

 

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.

 

Posted in a joyful dog, a very good dog, clever girl, clever Isis, deaf/blind dog, dear little Isis, Highbury Park, Holders Lane, Isis at home, park dogs, park people, patience is a virtue., poor Isis, scenting, these dogs!, walking in the park, walking my deaf/blind dog, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

neither of us deserves a halo

Posted on February 11, 2024 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday February 11th 2024

 

It has rained, and on one perfect, pouring day, I wrap Isis in Ellie’s preloved raincoat, and we spend an hour roaming the streets. Unfortunately, though, mostly the rain falls at night, and resumes late in the afternoon, so we miss it.

Sometimes, Isis would try the patience of a saint.

And I’m no saint.

To be fair, she only does this when she takes it into her head that she’ll refuse to co-operate on a road walk. Now, to be fair to her human too, Isis is never expected to walk in adverse conditions – that is if the sun is out, or the sky is bright, or there’s a gale force wind.

As we know, for the last two weeks, I’ve not been able to take her to the park because an eye problem prevents me from driving. Day after day, she joyfully greets her harness and lead, dances and tugs excitedly, then walks to the car and stands waiting to be let in.

Day after day she is disappointed.

Wednesday is a particularly cold day, but knowing that we’ll only be outside for a few minutes, I don’t bother to put on neck warmer or gloves.

Then it happens. She decides she’ll have a pavement walk, and sets off seeking the first interesting scent she can find. An army of creatures has passed this way since she last came along, so much of the walk is spent with her wiggly black and pink nose glued to walls, fences, shrubs and gate posts.

It’s chilly without neck warmer and gloves, but I’m so pleased she’s enjoying herself that I hardly register the icy blasts. We walk for about fifty minutes, which is very pleasing.

I’m guessing that she realises at last that we’re not going in the car. (How strange the actions of humans must seem to their pets.)

After this breakthrough, we go out each day. Although it is challenging to get her going, once we’re on our way, and the smells become more and more beguiling, we usually walk for about fifty minutes.

That’s O.K. It’s not as good as the park where she can be free, but at least she’s out of the house and getting some exercise.

She’s also made friends with Alyn, superb painter and decorator, who is transforming the erstwhile very scruffy walls and ceilings of hall, stairway and landing from a heart sinking griminess into a pristine space.

The change is uplifting. It’s inspired me to wax the new wooden doors which have been installed for almost two years, the glass panes of the downstairs ones retaining their rectangles of dusty, bedraggled film. They need two coats of wax on both sides. At present it’s nine sides completed, six to go. Once finished, they look beautiful, so I’ve even been inspired to begin sanding the landing floor boards which already sanded once, should have been varnished immediately, but weren’t.

“Well,” says my friend Chris on a flying visit, “It takes you a very long time to start, but you aren’t half thorough when you do!”

Anyway, back to The Hairy One. She is at least experiencing some variety in her life. She likes to sit with Alyn while he’s getting changed or gathering his kit together in the front room. I don’t know whether she is ensuring that he doesn’t make off with the her rug, or simply keeping him company, but, although she still sniffs his shoes and the bottoms of his trousers each time he arrives, she no longer barks and spins, appears to be at ease with him, and even accepts being stroked a little. He is a kind and gentle person who understands her need to instigate their contact.

So, with a new friend and regular exercise, life is more pleasant for both Isis and Human, and both can enjoy stress free ambles.

Not today though.

Dog knows why. We don’t venture out until the sun has gone in. There shouldn’t  be a problem. Eventually Isis chooses the direction in which she will walk, or, as it transpires, in which she will not walk. Having crossed the road, she decides that she’ll go home now. Perversely, I decide that she will not go home, at least until we’ve reached the bin where I can deposit the dog bags.

It is no fallacy that podengoes can be very stubborn – downright bloody minded, in fact. She is at her most resistant. She tries every trick in the book to get her own way, and, I fancy, quite a number of tricks which aren’t in the book: she attempts to pull me backwards; she plants her backside firmly on the pavement and refuses point blank to move; numerous times she walks across my path towards the road, and makes as if to cross; she tugs me into the mud, pulls her head back in order to escape from her harness; she stands stock still in the middle of the pavement, obstructing the passage of babies in prams, and arm-linked couples.

I tap her under her chin, hissing “Enough!” into her beautiful ears. When people walk by and smile, I force a grimacy grin. (Yes, I’m sure you’re right that there’s no such word as ‘grimacy’, but I like it.)

I almost need to employ a chisel to remove her bottom from the flagstones, but I force her to her feet, then tickle her rear to get her moving. I drag her back from the side of the road, stepping in the large patch of sticky mud I’ve been taking pains to avoid, I step adroitly back when she crosses in front of me, patiently ease my foot from beneath her paws when she stands on me, and urge her on.

At last we reach the bin and cross the road.

Immediately, her demeanour becomes one of a normal dog enjoying a normal walk. She stops to sniff the grass, the paving stones, lamposts and other street furniture with interest, even lingering over a choice scent. We walk back home at a relaxed pace. She no longer stops in the middle of the small side streets we – or, to be accutrate, I – am attempting to cross.

She has become the perfect canine companion on a Sunday walk.

Why, you may well wonder, do I insist on her walking when she doesn’t want to. Perhaps she’s feeling tired or unwell. Yes, I used to fall for that one too, but am not so easily fooled when she suddenly runs ahead, towing me behind, in pursuit of an innocent feline who has recently walked the pavement on its way home.

My previous dogs liked to pause to exchange greetings with any friendly cat they came across sitting in its gateway. Isis, I know, has no such benevolent intention.

Or do I persist because I’m as stubborn as she is?

Perhaps.

After all, one needs to be stubborn if one’s dog is a podengo?

 

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.

Posted in Isis at home, Isis is no angel, Isis knows best, Isis says "No"., oh dear, patience is a virtue., scenting, strange behaviour, these dogs!, walking my deaf/blind dog, we don't like bright light, we don't like bright sun, what on earth's the matter?, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

just praying for rain

Posted on February 4, 2024 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday February 4th 2024

 

Praying for rain? Not quite, but hoping big time.

On Monday we have an emergency. Human goes for her annual eye-test; she’s very apprehensive as there is definitely something wrong with her left eye.

Naturally, there are obstacles to overcome: Human has double booked, forgetting that she is expecting a food delivery which Sod’s Law decrees will coincide with the appointment. As will the arrival of Adopted Niece Kym, who is coming to stay over until Tuesday evening.

I ask my over the road neighbours at Woodthorpe Provisions if they will accept the food delivery, and they kindly say they will. I WhatsApp Kym, tell her that I’ll probably not be back until after she arrives, and off I go.

I explain to Jo the optician, that there is something not quite right with my left eye. I am hoping against hope that she will not refer me to the Eye Centre. (The specialists there are excellent, but it’s the other side of town, and you usually have to wait hours to be seen.)

After a very thorough examination, Jo tells me that it looks as though I have a slipped lens, I must go to the Eye Centre, and I need to go immediately. She writes a referral letter for me to give to the triage team.

About ten minutes after I return home, Kym arrives. I try to persuade her to stay and have a rest, but she will not be persuaded. She’s taking me, and that’s that.

Off we go.

When we arrive, we see a notice giving waiting times. The expected wait is eight hours.  Our hearts sink. I keep telling Kym to go back to the house and have a rest and a snack. No, she insists, she’s staying.

We are directed to the orange seats near to reception. We pick up some snacks from the coffee bar, and begin our wait. Apparently, we are told by a fellow patient, there are so many emergency surgeries and complex cases today, that no doctors will be free until after five.

There are a few distractions to break up the time: after about an hour, I am called in for an eye test, then, later, for a scan.

I wonder if these events are organised in order to preempt the waiting crowd attempting mass suicide.

Kym, recognising that apprehension has rendered Adopted Auntie even less competent than usual, accompanies her to both scan and test. Just as well, for there’s another shock to come. To my horror, I can’t read any of the letters on the chart.

My Dog! My eyesight has deteriorated horrifyingly rapidly.

“Are you wearing the right glasses”, enquires Kym, sensibly.

No, actually. I have on my reading glasses instead of the distance ones. Unsurprisingly, I do much better when I swap glasses.

After almost six hours – which, let’s face it – is better than eight hours, I see the surgeon, who confirms that the lens has indeed slipped. They see about one case like this every week, he explains cheerily, they will be able to sort it, and I should be called into clinic in two to three weeks. It’s usually an outpatient procedure, he tells me, but as we get older, we don’t cope so well with general anaesthetic, so I should be prepared for an overnight stay.

And I shouldn’t drive until after the surgery.

Oh dear. Poor Isis.

Although she has been left on her own for seven hours, without any dinner, she is her usual calm self when we arrive home. There is no pee, no poop, no destruction. Although, of course, she has rarely been left alone for more than four hours, she just goes to sleep and waits patiently. She isn’t usually a demanding dog.

She is today though. I haven’t been able to drive her to the park, and she, of course, refuses to walk along the pavement. She wants to go to the park. She tries desperately to tell me this.

Every day this week, she is as excited as ever when I get out her harness and lead. Putting on her harness is no longer an ordeal. She is a quick learner, and knows that if she growls, Human will drop the harness, and we’ll have to begin again, so she keeps each front paw nicely limp, and waits for me to insert them into the leg holes, then, she knows, she’s allowed to leap up and down, growl, yip, emit a long podengo howl, duck, dive and bark as much as she likes.

Every day she walks the few feet to the grass verge and obligingly poops.

Every day I encourage her to walk up the road.

Every day she refuses to walk, and sits down. Then she stands by the car, beseeching me to let her onto her back seat and take her to the park.

Poor Isis.

It’s heartbreaking.

Bev offers to pick us up to go to Highbury, but then she develops an inner ear infection which causes severe dizziness and she, too, is told not to drive until she has recovered!

Isis, although cooped up in the house, has been as good as gold.

Today, though, she is an extremely unhappy dog.

 

 

 

 

She is very restless, gives several series of protesting barks, and wants to be paid attention. To distract her, I fill her green feeding puzzle with tiny treats, but, although I seldom use it, she remembers the most efficient way to dislodge and retrieve them, so that task only occupies her for about two minutes.

Sigh.

Later on, I think I’ll make some cheese trails in the hall, and train her to follow them.

Rain, her favourite weather, is forecast for most of next week, so perhaps she’ll agree to road walks within the next day or two.

Fingers crossed.

Then there’s the possible overnight hospital stay. I’ll have to book poor Isis into Holly Trees, and force her into a taxi for the journeys there and back.

That’ll be a whole load of fun, because, as I’ve mentioned before, she now has a phobia of travelling in other people’s cars.

And I have no idea how long it will be after the surgery before I can drive.

Oh well, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” as they say.

 

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.

 

Posted in a very good dog, clever girl, clever Isis, crisis, dear little Isis, Isis at home, Isis is sad, Isis knows best, Isis says "No"., oh dear, patience is a virtue., poor Isis, rain, relationship building, sleeping, these dogs!, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

four muddy feet

Posted on January 28, 2024 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday January 28th 2024

 

 

Because it has become virtually impossible to find anywhere mud free to take Isis, it is often necessary to clean her feet.

Now Isis, of course is not partial to having her feet cleaned. There are many and varied ways of approaching this task, and, over the muddy years, we try all of them:

the hosepipe which makes poor Isis hysterical – and, anyway, it’s much too cold for that except on warm, dry days, and on warm, dry days, her feet are quite likely to be clean

 

 

 

An unimpressed Isis after a watering can job.

 

 

 

full immersion in the sink – but I struggle to lift her nowadays; additionally, this entails a thorough root and branch sink clean

plunging her ankle deep into a large bowl – it’s too cold to do this outside, and doing it inside entails cleaning the whole kitchen floor, which is a pain

and any combination of these strategies, which may be feasible outside in the summer, but is extremely messy inside in the winter.

And don’t forget, they all involve a reluctant hairy animal who is intent on one thing only – escape.

We have, however, cracked it at last, and this is how.

Our last task before we leave the house is to close all of the doors which open onto the hall. This will preempt any muddy pawed bid to wipe off all the dirt on the rug or the day bed.

On our return, Human leads Canine towards the house with an exaggeratedly casual air, sauntering across the pavement, through the gate and up the step with a gait so laid-back it’s bordering on horizontal. This is to ward off any suspicions Isis could have that her feet are about to be washed.

Once we reach the porch, we remove the Hairy One’s lead and harness. This is our usual daily routine when returning from a walk. In the past I’ve left them on, thinking that it will be easier to shepherd her down the hall to the kitchen. Silly me. The break in routine will immediately arouse her suspicion, and, once hauled unceremoniously over the threshold, she will glue herself to the mat and refuse to budge. I have even, on occasions dragged her along the floor, still attached to the mat, but this is not only damned hard labour, it’s also a sure way of winding her up before we even begin the ablutions.

No, we’ve learned the hard way; so now, leaving behind lead and harness, she strolls calmly down towards the back room. Finding the door closed, she pauses just long enough for me to whip open the kitchen door, push her inside, and close the door behind us.

It’s a galley kitchen, so there’s nowhere to hide. While she is standing hopefully next to the door, thinking the situation over, I fetch her personal washing up bowl and plastic jug, reach into her cupboard below the sink, and take out her shampoo. I fill the bowl with warm water, and place one towel in front of it for her to stand on, and one behind it for her to step onto once a foot is clean.

I dip the jug into the warm water until it’s half full, place it next to a front paw, gently guide the paw into the jug, and hold it in place while I dab on a little shampoo. Then I massage the shampoo gently into her hairy foot, and swish the water around it.

If I place a paw into the big bowl, there’s too  much space for paw sploshing, and we soon end up with a swamp, but the jug is quite narrow, just wide enough for her paw and my hand, so there’s no room for silly games. Now I swill the mud-black soup down the sink, dip into the bowl for warm rinsing water, and pop her paw back into the jug. When one paw’s clean and rinsed, I squeeze it very gently, and place it on the dry towel.

When all four paws are clean, I pat them with a towel to soak up the drips. She hates having her paws dried, and discretely bares her teeth – she doesn’t growl though, because she knows that if a dog forgets herself and growsl at Human, she most definitely will not get a treat when the ordeal is over.

When we’re done, I whip into the back room, roll up her nice new blanket, and put her largest dog towel in its place, so that the blanket will be dry and comforting for her once her feet are completely dry.

It would, of course, be more sensible to do this before we leave the house, but I always forget.

There’s very little water on the kitchen floor, and only two damp little dog towels to hang to dry, so I’m very smug about our foot washing routine.

It only took nine years for me to come up with this efficient approach.

But then, nobody’s perfect.

 

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.

 

 

Posted in a very good dog, clever girl, clever Isis, deaf/blind dog, dear little Isis, Isis at home, Isis says "No"., learning to trust, oh dear, patience is a virtue., poor Isis, relationship building, something's not right, these dogs!, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

spleroosh!

Posted on January 21, 2024 by patinkingsheath

 

 

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.

 

 

 

You must be joking.

 

 

 

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.

Posted in a joyful dog, a very good dog, clever girl, clever Isis, crisis, deaf/blind dog, dear little Isis, Highbury Park, Holders Lane, Holders Lane Woods, Isis in danger, Isis in danger, Isis knows best, Kings Heath Park, oh dear, poor Isis, scenting, walking in the park, walking my deaf/blind dog, what on earth's the matter? | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

the betrayal …

Posted on January 14, 2024 by patinkingsheath

 

 

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday January 14th 2024

 

Yes, The Betrayal, or how an innocent dog, after being lulled into a sense of false security, is subjected to over thirty minutes of unmitigated torment.

That’s quite enough, Isis. Let’s skip the hyperbole. All that happens, actually, is that I take Isis for her annual booster vaccination and vet. check.

We are seen by a pleasant young Chinese lady, who has the most gentle hands a dog could wish for.

Isis used to be the most obedient and well-behaved dog a vet. could wish for, but, unfortunately, since the quick of one of her toenails was accidentally cut last time she had a nail trim, this changes. For weeks she is unwilling to let me even touch her left fore paw – the site of the injury – although now she has relented and allows me to shampoo, rinse and dry all of her muddy feet without any resistance.

Isis is lifted onto the examination table, because I know that she will have less opportunity to indulge in her favourite escape strategies up there than on the floor.

She is very co-operative while the stethescope is placed in different positions on her chest, her identity chip is located, and her ears, eyes and teeth are examined. She doesn’t move a millimetre when the vaccination is done.

I explain about the nail clipping incident, and suggest that she is muzzled while her nails are clipped, and also that we leave the affected paw until last.

The vet is very careful indeed, first placing each of Hairy One’s feet flat and pointing forward, in order to guage exactly how much of each nail needs to be removed, then gently lifting the paw and carefully clipping each nail. Isis doesn’t object to the first paw being handled, but begins to tremble and utter little, low growls once the clipping process begins, and tries repeatedly to withdraw the held paw.

All in all, though, the clipping goes relatively well until it’s time to deal with paw number four – the dreaded front left  paw.

The vet is very, very patient, as Isis ups the growling, and stiffens her whole leg into immobile mode before snatching away the paw. Eventually, she secures the small, twitching foot in her hand and manages to clip each claw by minute degrees until the task is completed.

The muzzle is removed, and now there’s just one final indignity for poor Isis to endure: the emptying of her anal glands.

As might be expected, she never exactly enjoys the process; now, however, her behaviour assumes a wildness which, to me, expresses her opinion of the whole visit. She picks up on the low growls again, and concurrently attempts to shuffle, in turn, backwards, forwards and sideways. She tries to whip her head round in order, I assume, to reprimand the perpetrator of this latest assualt; Human, however, has a very firm grasp of her dear little pet’s indignant, hairy head.

Isis, ever resourceful, then takes to bouncing onto her front paws and thrusting her bottom up in the air as high as she can, and well above the reach of even the most determined assailant. Each time she ascends, we pull the hairy barage balloon back to earth, and, eventually, the task is completed.

Isis never harbours grudges, and as soon as the ordeal is over, stands calmly while her rear end is thoroughly wiped down, and, afterwards, receives (absolutely undeserved) strokes and pats from her exhausted tormentor.

Back in the car, I apologise to poor Isis, and tell her we have to make sure she’s a healthy dog, and, as long as she remains a healthy dog, vet checks will only happen once a year.

At home, she’s less than ecstatic when I subject her to a rear end shampoo and rinse, but she raises no objections. After being patted dry, she is rewarded with a Baker’s Bacon Flavoured Sizzler. For dinner this evening, a sardine is added to her usual fare. After eating, then communing with her soft toys, she jumps onto the day bed and sleeps the sleep of the just – or, more accurately, the sleep of the just vaccinated!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

Posted in a terrified dog, a vet visit, Isis at home, Isis is no angel, Isis knows best, Isis says "No"., off to the vet, oh dear, patience is a virtue., poor Isis, sleeping, these dogs!, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

2023 and me

Posted on January 8, 2024 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Monday January 8th 2024

 

Isis continues …………….

 

By the time that July comes round, I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. I don’t want to be left again, so I keep checking that Human is at home and I’m not on my own. And I really don’t want to go for walks. It’s safer at home.

I’m a very insecure dog. How do I know what’s going to happen to me next?  She keeps complaining that she doesn’t know what’s the matter with me, but Bev tells her that I’ve lost my confidence. After that, Human doesn’t make me go out if I don’t want to, but I go when Nancy’s there and I feel happy and do lots of sniffs.

It’s August now, and I’m just  beginning to feel better when she takes me to the kennels again. I stay right next to her and try to wrap my paws round her legs. I refuse to move, but they take me away again anyway.

After a while, Gordon fetches me from my kennel, and tries to take me out of the yard, but I refuse to go. I like Gordon, but I’m not leaving the kennels until Human comes to fetch me. In the end Y picks up my stuff, and Gordon makes me walk. Then they try to make me get in the car, but it’s not our car so I struggle and go stiff. They lift me in and Human’s in there. She pats me and strokes me, but I’m too upset to take any notice, and I tremble and pant until we get home.

Something’s wrong with Human. I think she’s been at the vet’s because she smells nasty, and she can’t put one of her paws down properly. She stays with me on the day bed, and keeps going to sleep. I need to look after her, so I’m very, very careful and never overtake her or stand in front of her.

We don’t go for any walks, but I don’t care. She doesn’t go away anywhere for weeks, then she walks a little way down the road with two metal sticks.

When it’s September, Bev comes. Am I pleased to see her! She tries to take me for a walk, but I won’t go, of course. It’s very nice of her but I have to stay at home with Human. Then Bev comes again and takes us in the car to Highbury. The humans sit and drink coffee and Nancy and I lie down by the bench.

One day C. comes to stay, and the next day we go a very long way in her car. I pant and tremble all the way there, and refuse to drink any water. When we’re there though, I’m very pleased. S. comes to meet us and we go into the cottage. C. takes me in. I remember it from last time, so I feel O.K. and eat my tea. When we go out, C. holds my lead. I’m usually naughty and don’t want to go. I don’t know why.

Then N. comes, and he makes a big fuss of me. I love N. When we all go out together, he holds my lead. I’ll go anywhere with him, even if Human’s not with me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We go to a lot of places, and I find a lot of interesting smells, but if N.’s not there, I’d rather stay in.

When we get home, everything is back to normal. Human and I go for a walk every day, although I’d still rather not bother. It’s raining all the time, so that’s nice.

When it’s October, it’s still raining all the time, and in November as well. We get wet every day, which means I have to be dried all the time. What a bore!

One day I go to the vet. The nurse cuts my nails and hurts one of my front paws. I don’t say anything but I won’t let Human touch my that paw any more. So now I have three trimmed paws and one very hairy one.

It’s still raining all the time, and everywhere we go is very muddy. One day Human falls flat in the the mud. Serves her right, she should mind her own business instead of bossing me around, trying to keep me out of the mud.

I don’t remember much about December, except that we still go out every day in the rain and mud. I don’t mind, but Human’s a bit grumpy sometimes, and says very rude things like, “*******, ******, ******* raining again. Of course it ******* is.”

Which is very silly, because it still carries on raining.

Oh yes, I nearly forgot. Christmas was O.K. I got a very warm, comfortable new bed. About time too. My old one was falling apart and it didn’t smell nice. This one feels lovely underneath you. It’s very big so Human sneaks part of herself on it too.

I got a yellow duck with a quack in it as well. I didn’t take to it for a while, but I allow it in my bed now.

Blitzi came on Christmas day and Y brought us both a lovely tin of special Christmas dinner for dogs. I ate my whole tin all in one go. It was delicious. Then I slept on the day bed in the back room, and didn’t chase Blitzi once.

 

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.

Posted in a terrified dog, a very good dog, a vet visit, clever girl, clever Isis, dear little Isis, glorious rain!, Highbury Park, Isis at Hollytrees, Isis at home, Isis is sad, Isis knows best, Isis on holiday, Isis says "No"., Nancy, off to the vet, oh dear, patience is a virtue., poor Isis, rain, rain and more rain, scenting, sleeping, sleeping arrangements, something's not right, strange behaviour, these dogs!, walking in the park, walking my deaf/blind dog, what on earth's the matter?, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

apologies

Posted on January 8, 2024 by patinkingsheath

 

 

Post for Sunday January 7th 2024

 

Apologies – Sunday’s blog will be late. Hopefully, it will appear on Monday!

P.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment