three dogs and a tortoise – part one

Posted on November 3, 2019 by patinkingsheath

 

 

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

 

Sunday November 3rd 2019

 

As soon as Speedy is carried into the house, Isis picks up the strange new scent. Her nose begins to twitch and she twirls on her back legs, muzzle aloft, trying to locate its source.

It’s a tortoise, Isis, and she’s staying with us for a week.

“She’s winding down to her hibernation,” explains Y when she introduces me to Speedy. “I’ve been offering her a bit of lettuce, but she’s not wanted it for the last few days. I’ve brought this just in case, though “.

She hands me a fresh round lettuce.

“What about water?” I ask, uncertainly. It’s a very long time since I had a tortoise and I know very little about their care.

Y explains that some tortoises find it difficult to access water from dishes, and usually prefer to stand in shallow water when they drink. At home, Speedy is put into a baking tray, but since she’s definitely about to go into hibernation, it’s very unlikely that she’ll require food or water.

Well, that all sounds very straightforward.

Y covers the comatose Speedy with a large towel, and places her on the old sheets with which I have covered the floor. She’s in my spare room without heating. “This’ll be perfect for her,” Y assures me.

Unfortunately, after a few days, the temperature drops. Since I have a guest, I have to turn the heating up in the rest of the house. I ram a towel under the spare room door, hoping that this will keep the room at the same low temperature.

It doesn’t work.

Next time I check on her, Speedy is wide awake.

Sigh.

I begin to worry about her well being; after all, she is between seventy and a hundred years old. I need to make sure she gets to 101.

I offer her lettuce. She declines and retreats under a trolley where it’s impossible to see her. I carefully lift her out, put her back on her sheet and replace her towel before making a dash for the internet.

Hibernation, I discover, can be a life threatening experience for an imported tortoise. There is a surprising number of species. And they require different regimes, and specific environments. They all require a low, even temperature for safe hibernation, but the temperature needed varies among species.

Oh dog! Which one is Speedy?

The following days are a little nerve wracking: sometimes she’s deeply asleep, at others she is awake and has relocated. Now and again, her little mouth opens and closes weakly as though she needs sustenance, but she doesn’t respond to offers of lettuce or of water.

She’s lived with Y for fifty three years. I can’t let her die now. I text N, my animal expert friend in Cornwall. He advises me to leave her be.

I don’t disturb her, but continue to check on her, of course. She appears to be alive, but she’s not evincing any interest in me or in her surroundings. I assume that tortoises are passive, undemonstrative creatures, and keep my fingers crossed.

On Tuesday Y. arrives to collect her. “Hello my little Speedy,” calls my friend, picking up her pet, holding her close, and kissing her nose.

What happens next astonishes me.

Speedy stretches out her head and legs as far as they’ll go. Her little black eyes open wide and seem to twinkle, her head bobs up and down. She wiggles her feet energetically, and opens and closes her mouth as though in greeting She looks ecstatic. She’s clearly delighted to be reunited with Y.

 

 

 

 

As they say, we live and learn. At the beginning of this week I learn that a tortoise can form a close attachment to a human.

At the end of the week I meet a beautiful pup. He has a lovely forever home in Birmingham, but is very attached to his best friend who had to be left behind in Turkey.

And then there’s Isis, who becomes attached to something quite different and leaps from the proverbial frying pan into the proverbial fire!

 

To be continued ……………………………………

 

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

Posted in adopted dogs | Tagged | 4 Comments

territory lost and found

Posted on October 28, 2019 by patinkingsheath

 

 

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

 

Sunday October 28th 2019

 

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear !”, I coo sympathetically to Isis when she suffers minor setbacks such as prickly bits of pine tangled in her hair, a beechnut case stuck between her pads, or a treat lost in her bedding. Then, of course, I hurry to solve the problem.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. This time I can do nothing to help.

 

 

 

Two oaks, I learn, grew so close together that their trunks melded. I’d always thought that they were one tree. For as long as I can remember, there has been a cave-like hollowed out area in the lower part of the trunk.

 

 

Then, last weekend, strong winds tear the trunks apart. On Monday the area around the tree is cordoned off with red and white tape. There are piles of logs, and the tree men are there, removing dead wood.

The tree is much diminished, but, apparently, it is stable and can remain.

Not that Isis has any concerns about tree conservation. But the huge, felled branches have massacred her ‘plantation’, one of her favourite playgrounds.

Only an outer fringe of the tall plants remains. The rest have been smashed by the heavy, crashing branches and boot trampled into the mud.

Poor Isis will be very confused and upset to find her territory has vanished.

I lead her carefully over the grass and guide her round the strewn branches. When I release her, she looks puzzled, uncertain where she is, and steps very cautiously on the unfamiliar surface.

 

 

 

 

The texture of the churned up grass must feel very different under her feet. There’s a wide open space instead of her familiar jungle. The disturbed earth must be releasing strange new scents.

Bewildering for a dog ………………….

 

 

Then she takes a good, deep sniff.

 

 

 

And another. Snuffle, snuffle.

She perks up. This smells interesting.  Hmmmm. Something small and furry has definitely been here.

 

 

Soon she’s trotting back and forth, foraging beneath the plants, digging under broken off boughs, retrieving sticks, and lying down in refreshing, shallow pools to gnaw at her leisure.

 

 

 

The wind catches her hairy ears as her meandering turns into a trot.

 

 

 

Suddenly, she gallops to the right. She whirls round and and gallops to the left. She spins again and canters away from me. She stops in her tracks, turns abruptly and pounds back towards me.

Utter excitement! Celebrations!

Whoohoo! Dog magic.

Again and again she leaps into the air.

 

 

 

 

Confused? Upset?

No way. She loves it. We stay for two hours.

 

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

Posted in deaf/blind dog plays, Highbury Park, oh dear, running running, scenting, twirling, walking in the park | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

seven soggy days

Posted on October 20, 2019 by patinkingsheath

 

 

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

 

Sunday October 20th 2019

 

Monday

My hairy little meteorologist is at it again. She’s perfectly happy in Highbury for an hour, then, when I notice her muddy feet and try to move her on, she protests. I assume that she’s cross because we’re moving on, and insist that she walks with me over to the long grass, where, hopefully, she’ll dance around and her feet will be cleaned.

Usually, she loves playing  here. Not today though.

 

Something very nasty is coming. Must go to ground.

That’s better. It won’t see me from behind.

 

 

 

 

 

It won’t see me from the front.

 

 

Eeeek! It still doesn’t feel safe out in the open. I’ll hide under here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What on earth’s the matter with her? Then I remember. Thunder is forecast for today.

On with her harness. Wag. Wag. Relieved, she trots with me to the car.

Just as we’re about to set off for home, the sky blackens and fat splodges of rain smack against the windscreen.

If she were human, she’d say, “Told you so!”

Tuesday

Late yesterday afternoon, I suddenly discover that my M.O.T. has expired.

Sigh.

C. at the garage has a space on Wednesday, but that means bussing it back and forth to let Isis out at lunchtime. Impossible.

If I bring the car in on Tuesday morning, and someone else cancels, C. will try to fit my car in.

I get up early and clear out the car. Now, a dilemma. I have a hospital appointment in the afternoon, and by the time I’ve returned from the garage – which is not on the bus route – it’ll be too late to walk Isis.

Unless I take her with me and can persuade her to walk back home. If the sun pops out while she’s in a strange place, she’ll refuse to move.

Quickly, I check the weather forecast. Dull all day. Right, we’ll risk it.

We drop off the car. Isis walks all the way home like an angel. It’s a very long pavement walk, but she doesn’t hesitate.

That night I’m too exhausted to go out again. I expect Isis to be tired too. Not a bit of it. While I drift off on the day bed, she leaps around for hours, vigorously shaking her snakes. I only regain full consciousness when she begins vigorously shaking the rug from which arises the dust of ages.

Obviously, a road walk isn’t enough. She needs a play walk too.

Wednesday

The car was fitted in yesterday, so I am at the garage by 7.40 to collect it.

Yes, 7.40.

Then I return home to pick up Isis and rush off with her to Kings Heath Park. At lunchtime, I return from my art group. She’ll not do a road walk in the sun, so off we go again to Kings Heath Park.

When I return from my afternoon session, it’s still sunny, so I take her to Highbury. Guilt at leaving her home alone certainly generates lots of walks.

That night we both fall asleep on the day bed. We don’t get up until ten next morning.

Thursday

My beautiful dog disgraces herself. Again, it’s dull and cloudy, and she is enjoying herself    in Kings Heath Park. She is playing on the bank above the old bowling green.

A couple of years ago, six new sapling pines were planted by volunteers near the bottom of the bank. One gave up the ghost in its first few months. Another was repeatedly pulled up by kids, and regularly replanted by me. Despite my efforts, it spent a week out of the ground in the summer while I was away, and died. The remaining four are doing fine, I reflect as I sit on a bench at the other end of the green.

Hairy One appears to be enjoying herself immensely. She’s found something nice and floppy and is killing it enthusiastically.

Oh my dog! It’s not … it couldn’t be….I shoot from the bench and pelt over to the bank.

To my horror, and ‘horror’ is no exaggeration, I see that what she is killing is fresh and green. It’s a long, leafy frond from the smallest of the remaining pines, and, at her jiggling feet are two more green, springy fronds.

She has bitten off the top half of the little tree.

Isis, of course, has no idea of what she has done, but I am mortified. I must seek out one of the lovely gardeners and confess, then I will replace the sapling.

I don’t spot anyone today. I’ll see if I can find someone after the weekend.

Friday

Wet, wet, wet.

All week.

What fun. Or not. On this, Isis and I disagree.

Today, as on every other day this week, my wellington booted feet suck their way noisily over the grass to my soggy vantage point on a fallen tree trunk. From here I watch Isis happily running up and down the track she has created along the wooded area which separates the two adjacent meadows opposite the car park.

Ahhh, she’s so enjoying herself. How lovely. I smile at her indulgently, and float off into my own head space.

When I come to and walk towards her, I see that her well trodden path is now a channel of deep mud, and she looks like a dog whose lower half has been dipped in chocolate.

Sigh.

How could I be so stupid? I noticed a few days ago that her track was getting a bit squishy. I should have checked it before I released her.

It is, of course, the one day I have arranged to meet someone straight after our walk. Can’t be helped: Hairy One’s filthy, and it was only a few days ago that I cleaned the inside of the car ready for the MOT.

Fussy? Not at all. I think it was when I caught sight of two small plants growing on the floor in the rear, that I realised how disgusting the interior was.

I was surprised by the plants, but I guess grass seeds plus mud plus wet dog equals a fertile site.

 

Saturday

Isis isn’t pleased when I insist that we try a different area of the park. She digs in all her strong little toes and refuses to budge. As I stand and wait for her to walk on, I catch sight of the heron. It’s the second time this week that we’ve come across him standing on the edge of one of the meadows.

 

 

 

What’s he doing here? I thought that herons only ate fish, but no, I’m told by two guys who are also watching that herons also eat small mammals. I look them up and find that they eat frogs, snakes, mice, shrews, small rats, and even insects.

Thank you Isis, I could have missed him.

Sunday

Today the reprobate delights in skittering around the shrubbery in the Colour Garden, until naughty Ebbie sidles up close to her and barks loudly for her ball to be thrown.  Alarmed,  Isis makes off towards the new bowling green. I catch her and bring her back, sit on the bench and plonk her down between my feet, where she shelters for a few minutes.  Then the sun pops out, and she’s off again, this time in the direction of the car park.

Never mind, Isis, we’re visiting J. this afternoon. You’ll like that.

She does. He keeps a water bowl in his flat for her, and gives her a whole digestive biscuit.

Quite a week, Isis.

 

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

Posted in a very good dog, a very naughty dog, clever girl, Highbury Park, Isis and the snake, Isis says "No"., Kings Heath Park, strange behaviour, walking in the park, we don't like bright sun | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

creatures great and small

Posted on October 10, 2019 by patinkingsheath

 

 

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

 

Sunday October 13th 2019

 

Polymath asked for a natural burial: no pollution, no religion, no speeches, no formal funeral. On Tuesday, we gather at Westall Park Woodland Burial Ground to say our final farewells.

Niece K brings with her flowers picked in the morning from her father and stepmother’s garden near Lincoln. As the car reaches Newark, a stowaway is discovered, a little jewel of a cricket, nestled among the foliage of the bouquet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before she places her flowers on the coffin, K. carefully disentangles tiny cricket’s flower stem from the others and lays it on the grass, a few feet away.

Polymath would have loved to know that she has a cricket for company, K. and I agree.

 

There are other small and beautiful creatures about.

 

We know that Nancy doodle isn’t small, but I leave her in the image to demonstrate how diminutive puppy Bo is.

Although she’s tiny and only fifteen weeks old, Bo is fearless. She’ll bounce up to any dog, whatever its size.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of her favourite playmates is Derek, a large, exuberant standard poodle. Kind-hearted Derek is totally tolerant of Bo’s audacious play attacks, and even lies down so that she can jump on him.

It is rare for larger, older dogs in the park to snap at Bo. Like most dogs, they recognise a puppy’s vulnerability.

And here’s Lexie, S.’s three month old German shepherd/collie cross.

 

 

 

 

 

She’s delightful. She’s already trotting obediently by S’s side, and responding diligently to recalls. She’s beautiful, and as soft as the inside of a feather duvet. I can’t keep my hands off her!

She’s much more timid than Bo, though, and shrinks when a much bigger Lexie, also three months old, runs over.

She needn’t have worried. This dog might be a giant, but she’s kind and gentle too.

 

 

 

 

Finally, here’s gentleman Blitz again. Strong and boisterous he may be, but he is clearly aware that Isis is vulnerable.

 

 

 

 

While his human Y. and I are chatting, Isis decides she’d like to be somewhere else. She swiftly removes herself from the scene, disappearing into the wooded area adjacent to the car park.

As she vanishes into the trees, Y. and I set off in pursuit; Blitz, however, shoots ahead, finds Isis and returns to show us exactly where she is.

Aren’t animals amazing?

 

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

Posted in Highbury Park, Isis in danger, Kings Heath Park, park dogs, walking with Rufus and Nancy | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

little Daisy

Posted on October 6, 2019 by patinkingsheath

 

 

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

 

Sunday October 6th 2019

 

 

 

Daisy August 4th 2019.

 

 

 

Polymath called her ‘Daisy-Bug’, or sometimes just ‘Bug’ because when she was a kitten she scuttled around the floor, over the furniture and up the wall paper like a little black beetle.

Daisy-Bug immediately took to Polymath’s other resident, puppy Ellie, who, having a very small, poodle mouth was unable to pick the kitten up by the scruff. Instead, she took kitten’s head in her mouth and carried her around like that. They played crazy games together, so crazy that Daisy was often taken upstairs for ‘time out’ so that both animals were forced to rest!

Little Daisy has been living with Isis and me for over two years. Regrettably, Isis and Daisy have not been companions. On Hairy One’s first visit to Wales she returned from a walk and stepped into her bed for a rest. Unfortunately, something furry and very cross was already in residence, and confronted her with spiky hisses. Poor Isis was terrified. They remained wary of each other thereafter.

This summer, as I’ve mentioned before, Daisy’s loses her appetite. Over the last few months she gives me more than a few scares, but the RSPCA vets bring her back from the brink with a gastro-intestinal dry diet and appetite enhancer.

She’s been on a wet food renal diet for some years, but a few months ago decides enough’s enough. She puts her paw down firmly and refuses to eat any more of it. We switch to renal diet dry food and she happily chomps her way through a bag of that.

Then, gradually, she eats less and less of the dry foods. The vet advises me to put her diet on hold and give her anything she’ll eat, just to try to increase her weight.

She loses interest in freshly cooked fish and chicken, previously gobbled down. For two or three weeks she is offered Sheba in terrine, in gravy, in jelly; Gourmet Mon Petit and Gourmet Gold. We try flakes, shreds and paté.  Ah, hope arise. She’s delighted with her first taste of ‘ocean fish’. But then she loses interest. And so it goes on. We work our way through tastes of everything we can think of that she might fancy.

Then, she barely eats at all. Then she stops eating altogether. She is so thin and frail that I stop forcing her to take medication. For three days she staggers from my bed to the bathroom for a drink and then lies stiffly in her cat tray. I pick her up and carry her back to the bed.

On Sunday September 29th she stops getting up for a drink but drinks when I take water to her. I torment myself, as we foolish humans do. I can’t take her to her vet. Travelling distresses her, it’s about eight  miles away and she’s too frail for the journey.

Now she turns her head away from the water when I offer it to her. It’s obvious that she is dying. I decide to ask the vet down the road to come and euthanise her the next day. But Monday comes and I can’t bear the thought of the vet sticking a needle into her frail little body.

If she shows any sign of distress or pain, I will call the vet. Of course.

She doesn’t. She sleeps. She no longer wants to be stroked.

On Tuesday morning, I see her flanks heave twice. Two deep breaths. She opens her mouth, releases a quiet little puff of air and dies.

When I check, I discover that I miscalculated her age. She’s twenty and six months. Thank goodness, she’s had a happy life. She’s never experienced cruelty or neglect.

 

I’ll miss you Bug.

 

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

Posted in a terrified dog, Isis and Daisy | Tagged , , , , | 8 Comments

the perfect border

Posted on September 29, 2019 by patinkingsheath

 

 

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

 

Sunday September 29th 2019

 

At the beginning of August, Isis spends a week at Holly Trees Kennels while I enjoy a week in Uppingham with friends. She is there for another week this month while I stay with Polymath.

She is a very good little dog. She leaves the car and walks with me, unprotesting, through the main gate and into the yard. I hand her over to a new kennel person. But Isis doesn’t want to leave me behind, and stops on route to the kennel block. I suggest that under the chin taps will help. They do and, accepting her fate, Hairy One walks off obediently with the young lady.

During both of her stays, I ring to check that all is well. Ray’s daughter Wendy answers the phone and tells me that Isis is fine and jumping around playing with her toys as usual.

When I collect her, she has an excellent report: she’s as good as gold, a lovely dog, pleasure to have her.

Nowadays, I note, she knows exactly where our reunion will take place, and tugs gently towards me, tail at first waving in anticipation, then bursting into pleased wags as she reaches me.

Ray is standing talking to Adopted Niece and I, and, to my surprise, Isis nudges his legs and lifts up her head. “Ah, yes, treats,” says Ray. Apparently, every night Ray does a dogs’ bedtime treats round. He calls the other dogs out for their treats. When he gets to Hairy One’s kennel, he kicks the door!

During her August kennel stay, Isis undergoes a transformation: when she returns home to her dining room, she doesn’t regress to her wild, barky, snarly, growly food defending routines as she has every time she’s been in the kennels up until now.

Must be a fluke. Perhaps all the other dogs were very passive.

But no, it’s the same when she returns from her September stay. Back home, she eats like an ordinary, regular dog.

I ask Wendy whether Isis has ‘carried on’ at meal times while at the kennels. “She hasn’t”,  Wendy tells me, “she seems much more confident all round now.”

Well, I must say, it’s a huge relief not to have to go through weeks of tedious table manners retraining.

What a good girl!

And her reward for such impressive behaviour?

She couldn’t have a better one.

 

 

 

 

 

Torrential rain for days on end!

 

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

Posted in a very good dog, dear little Isis, Isis at Hollytrees, learning to trust, relationship building | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

goodbye my friend

Posted on September 22, 2019 by patinkingsheath

 

 

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

 

Sunday 22nd September 2019

 

Sylvia, known in the blog as ‘Polymath’, respected and celebrated the lives of all living creatures. If she knew of any animal in distress, she wouldn’t rest until she had rescued it,  or, in later years, dispatched me do so!

Thus, I found myself once at the old RSPCA in Barnes Hill at 2.00 a.m. with a spinning squirrel who’d been hit on the head by a car outside her house or, on another occasion, in the dark one night, chasing a frightened baby herring gull round the back streets of Barmouth. It’d fallen from its nest on the flat roof of Barmouth Co-op.

A week later, when it had recuperated in her living room, I was required to teeter on the roof of her van in order to return it to the nest. (Apparently, gulls are one of the few birds who will accept their offspring even if they’ve been away and come back smelling of humans. Its parents came to greet it.)

She carried home Fluffy, a street kitten she found one wet night in the gutter in Rio, Brazil, and when she and her husband returned to Britain, Fluffy came too.

When I accidentally splashed fence paint on a young wood louse, she spent an hour carefully cleaning the tiny insect with minute shreds of damp tissue.

Sadly, Polymath, my friend of fifty-six years, was diagnosed, out of the blue, with a terminal illness just twelve days ago. She died last Thursday.

There were occasions on which I answered a phone call from her on a Wednesday or Sunday evening, and moaned, “I’m tired, and totally uninspired. I’ve only just begun this post, and it’s even boring me. I can’t publish this garbage.”

After admonishing me yet again for leaving post writing until the last minute, she’d invariably say, “It’s not about being inspired. Just get on with it!”

So that’s what I’ll do.

 

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

Posted in Uncategorized | 15 Comments

apologies

Posted on September 18, 2019 by patinkingsheath

 

 

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

 

Wednesday 18th September 2019

 

I apologise for the non-appearance of a post last Sunday. This was owing to an ongoing crisis situation.

I hope I will be able to post next Sunday.

 

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

Posted in Uncategorized | 7 Comments

Daisy, Daisy ……………..

Posted on September 8, 2019 by patinkingsheath

 

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

 

Sunday September 8th 2019

 

It’s Thursday and Isis, Daisy and I are off to RSPCA Newbrook Farm, Isis for the second part of her vaccination (accidentally missed last year) and her regular anal gland procedure, Daisy because she needs a new thyroid prescription and weight check.

Isis is very good as usual. Today, for the first time, she has her treatments without a muzzle. That’s a first.

And Daisy?

Well, she never yowls on the journey. She just vomits or poops, or both. We even have a regular pit stop for cat carrier change over.

She’s a good-natured little cat, and always behaves with decorum in the consulting room. The only evidence of her anxiety are damp little paw prints on the examination table, and her tendency to crawl into one’s sleeves or under the hem of one’s jumper.

We can deal with these idiosyncrasies. What, of course, as all cat people know, is frustratingly difficult to deal with is when kitty says “Shan’t.”

Although Daisy’s diarrhoea has been treated successfully, she refuses to eat her renal and gastrointestinal wet food. When I don’t offer her a replacement, she nibbles half-heartedly at her renal/gastrointestinal dry food.

Instead of achieving the weight gain the vet and I are hoping for, Daisy grows steadily thinner. Her shoulder blades feel like fur coated bone, and I can literally count her little ribs.

I give in and feed her Sheba alongside her special dried food. That’s more like it! Yes, she’ll eat some of that.

Not enough, though.

The vet and I talk again. He is fine with the Sheba: eating must take precedence. He also researches an appetite enhancer tablet which can be prescribed for cats with thyroid and renal problems.

The tablets are quite small, she only has to take a quarter of one every other day, and I have a pill cutter. Surely Daisy, who happily helps herself every day to a thyroid pill covered with sardine or pilchard, will not notice that her fishy ball contains a different med.

No problem there then, right?

Wrong.

Daisy is horrified that her pilchard ball is tainted with appetite enhancer, and refuses point blank to even consider eating it.

What’s more, she suspects that sinister things might be happening to her thyroid pill, and refuses to eat that, too.

Sigh.

There’s nothing else for it but to dig out my old, pink, polo-necked jumper again, usher the annoyed feline inside, close the entrance and open up the polo-neck.

As soon as her cross little head pops out, I grasp the neck tightly enough to prevent her from thrusting out a furry paw, and loose enough to avoid strangling her …… although, on second thoughts. (You cat people will know exactly what flits into my mind.)

I struggle to open her tightly clenched mouth with my other hand and to poke the pill into her mouth before she closes it on my fingers.

Tonight – just a few minute ago, in fact – deciding that it would be nice to take a snap of her with her head poking out of my polo neck, I pop upstairs to give her her med.

This time, naturally, she turns round swiftly inside the jumper, so that her rear end is now facing the neck of the jumper and her naughty head the hem.

Point to Daisy: fifteen love.

Just as swiftly, I allow her head to emerge, then wrap the hem end of the jumper round her neck. Ah, I can now sit on the extra length to preempt an escape bid, and use two hands to feed her the pill.

This is much easier: fifteen all.

Thanks Daisy.

 

 

 

We are not amused.

 

 

 

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

Posted in a very good dog, a vet visit, dear little Isis, Isis and Daisy, Newbrook Farm, RSPCA | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

a challenge for Isis

Posted on September 1, 2019 by patinkingsheath

 

 

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

 

Sunday September 2nd 2019

 

It’s Wednesday morning. It’s raining, so I take Isis to Kings Heath Park for a change. She is so intrigued with all the smells which have accumulated since she last visited, that she is determined to check out every one. After twenty minutes, we’ve still not arrived at the bottom bowling green.

She marks each outstanding smell so assiduously that she soon runs out of pee. I point this out to her, but, undeterred, she continues to mark.

Thrilled to play in her Colour Garden again, she races round and round her bed of shrubs gleefully, until I rudely interrupt her to take her home.

Isis spends several hours on her own today, so in the early evening, off we go to desport ourselves for an hour or so in Highbury.

We’re wet and tired but happy when we set off for home. I’m looking forward to a lazy evening under a fleece on the day bed with Isis.

Since it’s raining, I look for my house key before getting out of the car. I look for a long time. I search. I rummage through bags and pockets. I get out of the car, and poke disconsolately in the rain, among the saturated heap of grass cuttings on the side of the drive.

No luck.

We return to the park where I scour the ground, trudging up and down between the car and the spot where earlier I sat to watch Hairy One playing.

I have spare keys, but they, of course, are unavailable: one is in the house, while the other is with a friend who is not in Birmingham at present.

Sigh.

I lose things so frequently that it’s quite tedious. But this evening’s situation is more than tedious. I repeat a few choice and very impolite words over and over again.

Good job that my pet’s a dog and not a parrot.

I ring my very good friend A. Of course, she tells me, Isis and I can stay with her overnight.

Fortunately, I’d posted on Hairy One’s blog the night before; also, by sheer luck, I’d given Daisy her thyroid tablet and had fed both furries before leaving for Highbury.

We have to park some distance from A.’s house, and I expect to struggle with getting Isis to walk along Pershore Road, especially as it’s very dull and all the vehicles have headlights on. But she’s unbelievably co-operative, and only refuses to walk when we’re traversing the zebra crossing.

Not the optimum choice for a stand-off, but, fortunately, she responds to some frantic chin tapping, and, at last, the soggy pair of us arrive on A.’s doorstep.

Isis has never been to the house before, and is obviously surprised to be ushered in.

I expect her to be frightened and desperate to leave, but she’s  neither. She knows A. well but is, of course, completely thrown by the new surroundings.

I keep her on her lead, and for the first hour she stands still on a rug in the sitting room, now and again gingerly extending an exploratory front paw.

She allows me to guide her into the kitchen for a drink of water and back to the rug. A.  kindly covers her sofa with an old sheet, and I lift Isis up onto it. She settles down between us and, after a while, relaxes.

So far, so good.

A. and I chat until after midnight.

Then I lift Isis down and manouevre her out into the garden and back. She seems quite at ease.

I guide her with lead and chin taps up the stairs and into the spare bedroom. She lies on the floor, but nothing I do will get her to attempt to jump onto the bed.

When I lift her up, she lies down immediately but won’t move an inch in any direction. Clearly, she is afraid of falling off the bed.

 

 

 

 

 

I have to shuffle her along with my legs so that there’s room for me as well! All night she sleeps pushed up against me. Once or twice, she gives a little growl, but settles as soon as I lay my hand on her side.

In the morning, she stays on the bed when I go to the bathroom. Again, she’ll not move until I pick her up and put her down on the floor.

This is the first time that Isis has stayed in a strange house, except for her two abortive visits to Wales soon after she came to live with me.

She’s behaved very well, and I am very proud of her.

At the same time, watching how restricted her movements are in a new environment, I’m reminded of the challenges she has had to face, and still has to face, every day of her life.

Today, I watch her racing around yet another area of the park which she has mapped out. She has learned where the trees and bushes are and races around fearlessly. When we’re walking in less familiar areas, naturally, I have to protect her from obstacles. Sometimes, I’m not quick enough, and she trips over a bramble or bangs her head on a log. She never makes a fuss. She just shakes her head and carries on. Bumps are rare, though. She has taught herself the layout of most parts of her two parks.

How brave and clever she is.

 

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

Posted in a very good dog, clever girl, clever Isis, dear little Isis, Highbury Park, Kings Heath Park, oh dear, running running, scenting, sleeping arrangements | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments