what Isis MIGHT have said

Posted on October 23, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Monday October 23rd 2023

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, the trouble all began with a harness for Isis.

You always blame me for everything.

I’m not blaming you for anything, Isis. I’m just saying that the trouble began with your lost harness.

This blog is supposed to be about me not a harness.

It is about you, Isis. It’s about you needing a new harness.

Well, it should be about you losing my old one.

I explained about that last week.

Well, you should explain it again, because you’re always losing my stuff.

I admitted that too.

Good. It really is exasperating for a dog not to know what she’s going to be wearing next. Think of my street cred. And I’d had that harness for a very long time. I liked it.

I’m sorry I lost it. It was very careless of me.

You’re not kidding: you lost my striped back-up lead from the back of the car too. And that’s supposed to always be in the boot in case we come across a poor, stray dog. Now the poor, stray dog will starve on the street.

Shut up and let me get on with the post.

Fwoof. How rude.

Anyway, I searched on line and found what looked like a reasonable substitute. I ordered two.

A good idea. Perhaps, considering the rate at which you lose my belongings, you should have ordered six.

As I was saying, I ordered two. But when they arrived, they were very flimsy and not suitable for you, so I filled in the company’s returns request form and e-mailed it. There was no response, so I emailed again. Again no response, and no payment was taken from my bank account.

At this point, red lights began to flash.

No they didn’t. I would have noticed.

No you wouldn’t Isis. You can’t see.

I would have noticed lights that flashed.

It’s a metaphor, dear. I mean I began to be suspicious.

Oh.

I explained to the bank what had happened, and we agreed that although nothing had been taken out of the account, it would be sensible to close the account and open a new one.

Oh, so that was easy then, but I still didn’t have a harness, except from that horrible heavy thing that’s huge enough to flatten an elephant.

No. I’m sorry about that. But we went to the pet shop and bought a new one as soon as we could.

Yes, and it was very nice. I love going to the pet shop. It smells divine. I especially love the smell of the rabbits and the guinea pigs, But you won’t let me sniff them.

Spoilsport.

No. It’s not kind. They’d be frightened.

Well I’m frightened to walk on the skiddy kitchen floor, on my way to the garden, but you make me.

Yes. That’s because there’s nothing wrong with the kitchen floor. It was only slippery on one occasion. And when you walk back, you walk over the same spot and you don’t pretend it’s slippery.

I don’t pretend anything. It’s very scary. I’m a dog, and it’s called ‘habituation.’

Yes, well it’s very irritating.

You’re  merely an irritable git. Just look at all the italics you’ve used. You were irritable all last week as well. You can’t blame it all on my harness, and anyway, it was you who lost it.

All right, all right. We’ve established that. Do stop going on about it.

It’s not just the harness. After you lost my harness, you then went and lost the nice red and black striped lead. That lead that was supposed to stay in the boot for rescuing poor, unfortunate, lost dogs. Now, the poor creatures will …

Be quiet, Isis. We got our red and black striped lead back today.

No thanks to you. Only because Bev spotted it where some kind person had put it on a bench. Then you dropped the lead we’d been using, forgetting that you were carrying TWO leads. Why don’t you write my name on my belongings? 

I tried to, but it went all blurry and illegible.

You could write my name on tapes and sew them onto my lead and harness.

Oh doG!

On second thoughts, you can’t sew.

Best forget I suggested it.

Yes, Isis.

 

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 deaf/blind dog, Highbury Park, Isis at home, Isis knows best, oh dear, patience is a virtue., scenting, these dogs!, walking in the park, walking my deaf/blind dog, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

apology

Posted on October 22, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

Sunday October 22nd 2023

Owing to unforeseen circumstances, today’s post will not happen until tomorrow!

This is entirely the fault of Human. Isis has no responsibility for the lapse.

P

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

the new harness

Posted on October 15, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday October 15th 2023

 

I decide not to worry if, despite encouragement, Isis doesn’t want to walk; consequently, of course, she gives every indication of enjoying all of the walks we have from Monday onwards.

Well, perhaps like her human, she has her off days – although she hasn’t just had covid!

My post viral lethargy has to be seen to be believed, but even this pales into insignificence compared with my forgetfulness. Very often, it seems, I can’t remember what I’m doing from one minute to the next.

In this mode, I hardly manage to get through a day without losing something. First it’s my keys which still haven’t resurfaced. Then, two weeks ago, I drop Hairy One’s harness, and despite retracing my footsteps several times, enquiring at Highbury Hall, and putting up  a notice on the park’s main notice board, I am disappointed. No-one hands it in.

Hoping it might yet be returned, I use the heavy old safety harness which was employed to restrain my previous very acrobatic dog from zooming round in the car. It’s heavy and clunky, not only unsuitable for poor Isis but also very cumbersome for me to carry when she’s off lead.

After about ten days, I accept that I am not going to get it back, so on Friday, I take her to the pet shop to buy a new one. It’s quite a long way from where I park, and I expect her to be reluctant to walk.

But she isn’t in the least unwilling. She soon sniffs out the distant pet shop smells, and walks on cheerfully. Like most other dogs, she likes coming here, even though she has to be reminded that it’s not organised on the basis of  dogs’ self service.

A pleasant young assistant comes to help us find the correct size and fit, for although Isis is a medium sized dog, she has a deep chest and needs a ‘large’. The harness is one which doesn’t go over the head, but over the front paws and up the legs, over the chest, and fastens at the back of her neck. To my surprise, Isis stands angelically and allows the lady to fit the harness, front paws and all!

Afterwards I can’t imagine why I decided on this one, since Isis doesn’t mind a harness being put on over her head, but dislikes intensely having her paws or legs messed with. Never mind, it’s far from being the most stupid decision I make over this past week or so, and Isis soon gets used to having her paws lifted and poked through the holes – in fact, after a week, she helpfully inserts her left paw herself.

Unfortunately, when I attempt to lift and pop in the second paw she dances up and down, and dislodges the first one.

Oh joy!

She carries on as she always does when we’re in the porch, preparing to go out: she dances, twists, turns, growls and yaps while vigorously wagging her tail. And several times this week she completes the performance by lifting her head and emitting her delightful podengo howl.

As soon as the porch door is open, she transforms herself into a sensible dog, and off we go.

I think she looks very sweet in her new, red harness, even when there are bunches of long hair standing out along its edges.

 

 

 

 

On Saturday, I remember the pretty red and black striped lead which is lying around in the boot of the car (just in case we come upon a lost dog who needs rescuing).

We have a good long walk in Highbury. I still keep a lookout for the lost harness, but it doesn’t materialise. Oh well, this new one seems strong, soft and comfortable; it also looks very swish with the red and black striped lead.

A very satisfactory outcome, I think.

Like the excellent podengo she often is, Isis, who is walking just ahead of me, stops when she reaches the row of short, concrete pillars at the end of the path, and waits for me to attach her harness. I pat her head, tell her what a good dog she is, and am about to clip on the pretty red and black lead when I discover that it’s no longer round my neck.

**!!  **!!  **!! **!!  **!!  **!! **!!  **!!  **!!

There’s no way that Isis will be persuaded to walk back with me to fetch the lead, so she will have to wait in the car.

Without a lead, the only way to keep her safe on the pavement is to hold onto her harness, and that means hobbling along bent double – perhaps I should have adopted a nice, tall, Irish wolfhound. Fortunately, the car is parked close to the entrance. It’s a warm day, so once Hairy One is secured to her safety belt, I leave the door next to her open wide, and scurry back for the lead.

I remember where I let her off the lead. It shouldn’t take long to find it. It’s only about a couple of hundred yards away, on the grassy slope just below the beech wood.

And being red, it’ll be easy to spot.

Famous last words, as they say. There’s no lead in sight.

Unbelievable.

Look again: it isn’t on the tarmacked path, so it must be here.

But it isn’t.

Some  *******  must have picked it up. Perhaps it’s joined the harness I lost two weeks ago, or the one which went missing in the spring. Maybe someone is setting up a harness store.

Come now, let’s not be hasty. Most likely it will be handed in to Highbury Hall, or hung on the rail below the main notice board.

Several times the following week, I drive into Highbury to see if the lead has surfaced. Bad news. No, it hasn’t.

But there’s good news too. Over my back door handle hangs a very long lead which a fellow dog walker gave me years ago. It comprises two leads fixed together and was useful for taking Isis into the lane at the bottom of the garden, in the days when she preferred to run off and scrape bald patches in the lawn.

I take a careful look at it. Yes, one of the leads is quite attractive. (It’s the one she has on in the above photo.)

Problem solved.

For how long, is anybody’s guess.

 

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, dear little Isis, Highbury Park, oh dear, these dogs!, walking in the park, walking my deaf/blind dog, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

it comes to us all ……….

Posted on October 8, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday October 8th 2023

 

Isis has decided that she’ll no longer bother with seasonal fashion changes; instead, she’ll concentrate on building up a squidgy, very dense, inpenetrably fluffy undercoat, layer it with a thick top coat of very long, soft, fine, fly-away, wavy hair, and then moult steadily, twenty four hours a day, throughout the year.

 

 

 

 

 

Sigh.

She must be approaching ten now, at least, and, naturally, she’s slowing down. She’s still very excited about scents, and will make a short dash towards any particularly interesting ones; she still appreciates fine drizzle, and announces its imminent arrival well before the first splodges land on us; she acknowledges rain, likes to catch the drops in her mouth, and will usually greet it with an animated skip or brief twirl; she no longer dances in the rain with happy abandon for five, ten, even thirty or forty minutes as she used to though, and that makes me sad.

Some things are exactly as they were: she continues to behave like a mad dog, wagging crazily, weaving and ducking and dodging, growling ‘threatening’ growls, and pretending to nip me when I approach her with her harness before taking her out. Quite often she utters my favourite vocal, her delightful podengo howl, “Yow-wow-w-woo- oo!” as a grand finale.

As always, she scurries to her dog bed at night (or just as nimbly, at 3.00 a.m. if we’re up late) in anticipation of our bedtime treats games. First, I drop half a gravy bone into her bed. This she sniffs out with indecorous haste in her rush to track down the other half – which she knows Human will hurl across the room before she hides more gravy bones halves and two Markies under the cushions on the day bed.

After she’s found the two scattered treats and dug out all of the delicacies buried beneath the cushions, she sits, tense with anticipation, in the centre of the day bed, awaiting the next challenge.

She knows that she’ll triumph over Human and win this one, too.

It’s a bit like the ‘whack the rat’ stall, once so popular at school fêtes, when a toy rat is dropped into a vertical channel and you have to try to hit it with a stick before it plunges  out of the end of the channel and plops onto the grass.

In our bedtime game, the target moves a little more slowly than the toy rats at the fêtes, but there’s not much in it.

I hold a treat clenched in my fist and jerk the fist up and down too fast for Isis to be able to grab it with her teeth. In order to get at it, she has to force my forearm arm down with her paw, and keep it down until she releases the treat. She used to struggle with this, and I had to slow down to give her a chance. Not now though. She sits by my side, waiting for me to begin, alert and ready to pounce.

‘Thwack!”

She’s become so good at this game that however fast I go, it’s rare that I can  bring the fist back up more than twice before her sturdy little paw pins down my wrist, and holds it down. She is a strong little dog, and it’s near impossible to extricate my hand before she releases it. The game wouldn’t be easy for a sighted dog, but she’s always spot on target, never, ever missing my wrist.

This summer our walks have become very challenging, to put it mildly. She frequently refuses to walk, and just wants to return to the car. I urge her forward. She resists. I insist, and often, once we’ve got going, she walks normally. 

But not always.

Irritating animal. But I can’t say rude things to her, in case her reluctance is simply the result of her aging. Bev thinks she’s it’s because she’s anxious because of all the weeks she spent in the kennels while I was in Yorkshire.

Maybe Bev’s right. Who knows?

I take her to Highbury. She trots into the park,  marks her territory several times, produces two poops and then, feeling her duty has been done, stops and sits down decisively. I urge her on, but she resists and refuses point blank to go any further..

Poor Isis, she’s slowing down and I have to accept it, don’t I? I give up and allow her to make her way back to the car.

I can’t help noticing that at this point, she walks quite briskly.

Hmmmmm.

Another day, and another walk. Again she plods around in Highbury with me as enthusiastically as a teenager forced to run a cross country in a snow storm.

Oh dear. Yes, it must be her age. I need to be careful with her.

Two days later, we meet up with Bev and Nancy, again in Highbury. Now, and for over an hour, Isis trots around contentedly behind Nancy, sharing scents and, apparently, very much enjoying the outing.

Oh, Isis, Isis. What’s to be done with you?

 

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, clever girl, clever Isis, deaf/blind dog plays, dear little Isis, Isis at home, Isis knows best, Isis says "No"., Nancy, oh dear, park dogs, patience is a virtue., poor Isis, rain, scenting, something's not right, strange behaviour, twirling, walking in the park, walking my deaf/blind dog, what on earth's the matter? | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

habits!

Posted on October 1, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday October 1st 2023

 

Most animals, including humans, need routines. This makes sense, of course, since  routines, tried and trusted as they are, generally equal safety. Isis, I guess because she only has scent and touch with which to check out her environment, is particularly reluctant to  deviate from her established patterns of behaviour.

Years ago she was terrified of walking on the tarmacked path which leads onto the car park in Highbury Park, because when the sun is out, there is such a startling contrast between the dense black shadows cast by the line of trees, and the interstices of the almost white ashphalt. Even when it’s cloudy and there’s no sign of sun, she balks at walking here.

It’s many months since we used the path – so long ago, that I have forgotten about her phobia. It’s a dull, sunless Friday; even so, when we approach the trees, she stops and has to be cajoled to put one paw in front of the other.

I remember her reaction was exactly the same years ago when she refused, point blank, to walk along a particular avenue of trees in Kings Heath Park. My response was to carry her, without making any fuss, and put her back on the path when the ‘danger’ was over. After a while, she walked this path without worrying.

I should have done the same when she first began walking in Highbury. Perhaps she had already put on weight by then and was, as she still is, too heavy for me to lift.

And then there was the very unwelcome habit she had from the early on, of shrieking and fighting off imagined competitors while she choked down her meal. This dragged on for years, although there were interludes when I intervened by removing the food every time she began raving. This was very hard work, as sometimes the food had to be removed three or four times before she would eat calmly. When this happened, I recall, she usually barked and growled as soon as she’d finished eating. Or, latterly, barked and growled and didn’t eat her food.

Yet, when I consult Lee, the animal dietician who owns Baxter’s Corner, even before he weighs her, he tells me that she’s leaving her food because she’s not hungry. Such a reasonable explanation had never occurred to me, of course.

Ever since she begins her special diet, not only does she never leave a speck of food, she eats in contented silence too.

 

 

Isis awaits permission to eat.

 

 

One day, about three weeks ago, I spill her water; consequently, as she makes her way into the kitchen, she skids on the wet patch.

O.K. No harm done.

Oho! Wrong again, Human.

Although I now refrain from filling her water bowl to the brim, and thus avoid any spillage, every time I open the back door for her to go into the garden, she begins bracing herself at the doorway, jumping over the non-existent water, and making a grand display of skidding along the first yard or so of the floor tiles.

She displays no fear or anxiety, so her performance is very amusing to watch. But then she decides to hover at the threshhold, looking fearful. Eventually, I retrace my footsteps, walk with her across the offending area, then let her carry on through the back door and out into the garden.

I do this for about a week before it dawns on me that she’s got me wrapped round her little finger (as it were) yet again. Clearly, she isn’t in the least fearful, since her tail is in its usual chirpy position, and her ears are pricked: in fact, she doesn’t display even a shred of anxiety.

After a day or two, it also occurs to me that she doesn’t hesitate to step into the kitchen when I serve her meals, even though this entails crossing the previously skiddy spot.

I’m sure that if I don’t call a halt to her masquerade, she’ll manipulate me into accompanying her from the hall to the back door every time I let her out.

Right. I’m not having this, I decide.

So next morning, I walk into the kitchen, open the back door wide, step behind the larder cupboard – and wait.

I always insist on her doing a pee before she has her breakfast, so this is a good moment to challenge her.

I wait.

I take a peek round the side of the cupboard.

She is walking in and out of the back room, pretending to be worried.

I know she is hungry, and I’m determined to sit it out, however long it takes.

Tentatively, she puts one paw over the threshold.

I don’t move a muscle.

After five or six minutes, she jumps into the kitchen, clearing the ex-hazard, executes a little skid, and walks normally out into the garden.

Next time she hesitates for a moment. Within three days, she decides to knock the performance on the head. Now and again – when she remembers, I guess – she does an odd little skip into the kitchen. But by and large, she’s decided that we can do without the drama.

Thank Dog.

 

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 Chester's Corner, deaf/blind dog, food rage, Highbury Park, Isis at home, Isis is no angel, Isis knows best, Isis says "No"., oh dear, patience is a virtue., scary shadows, something's not right, strange behaviour, teaching my deaf/blind dog, these dogs!, training, walking in the park, 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

Isis holidays in Gwithian

Posted on September 24, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday September 24th 2023

 

When Isis stayed at S’s cottage last year, she always slept at the bottom of the stairs, a couple of feet away from her bed. S has generously invited us to stay again, and she must feel more relaxed this time, as she stretches out on the carpet close to where we sit in the evening with our glasses of wine.

Generally, once she’s played her treats games and has settled down to sleep, she’s doesn’t stir if one of us comes downstairs, but one night she barks her warning bark at 1.30 a.m. I go down and check that all is well, but she is back in resting dog mode now.

The cottage is very close to the road, so I guess that a person or persons wallked past ‘her territory’ on their way back from the pub.

Strange though it seems, she is, and always has been, an excellent guard dog. At home I always keep her on a very short lead if we are crossing the pavement to go to the car. I know that she’ll attack anyone who dares to walk across her section of pavement – unless they have a dog with them!

She is still very wary of strange dogs, and when we walk along the narrow little track which cuts through the sand dunes, she virtually glues herself to the bank when she smells an oncoming canine.

My friend C. is not an animal person, but since I am still using one crutch in the aftermath of my hip replacement, she kindly takes the lead when we’re walking.

Although Gwithian is delightfully quiet away from the traffic, surfers flock to the sea, and there are quite a number of holiday apartments close to the beach, so the road outside the cottage is extremely busy. The cottage is situated between two very tight blind bends, and crossing over to the other side is somewhat challenging.

Unfortunately, Isis is in an ‘I do not wish to walk to anywhere (unless Nick takes me)’ phase; consequently, the infuriating animal proceeds – or not – across the road at the pace of a seaman walking the plank. Envisioning an imminent vehicle pile up, C. has to drag Isis across the road while I nudge her hairy bottom (Isis’s, not C’s).

Fortunately, on the other hand, I soon become aware that almost every vehicle slows down and stops as soon as the driver discerns that s/he is about to mow down an invalid – for some reason, most people seem reluctant to kill the elderly, particularly the elderly with mobility challenges, so I hobble on one crutch just ahead, or very close behind them, and we all cross the road in a dignified fashion, and with limbs intact.

Phew!

Once we’ve dodged the road-crossing hazard, Isis continues to resist until we shove encourage her onto a very narrow, grassy track where there are enticing new scents. There are tall wild flowers and grasses on either side of us now, and Isis walks ahead sniffing. Metaphorically, C and I wipe our perspiring brows and follow on.

I remind C to act quickly if, or, more accurately when, the obstinate animal slyly executes a quick, u-turn, as she frequently does. The warning is necessary in order to save C. from having to run after the reprobate, who will be hurrying off in the direction of ‘home’.

Often I wonder whether the little toad would have preferred to stay at Ray’s kennels for the week; however, when she’s lying contentedly on S’s old jacket, allowing the animal loving  friends she made last year at the Wednesday coffee morning, to stroke her and whisper sweet nothings in her ear, I know she’s a happy dog.

 

 

 

 

 

She’s a puzzling one too.

Generally, though it sometimes takes me a while, I can work out what seems, to me, at least, a reasonable explanation for Hairy One’s behaviours.

As to why she never lies on her bed or even touches her toys while she’s away from home, Dog knows!

Clearly, she has a very strong opinion on what one does or does not do when away from home.

Actually, she seems to have a very strong opinion about everything.

But then, she 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 a very good dog, a very naughty dog, clever girl, clever Isis | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

off to Gwithian

Posted on September 19, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Monday September 18th 2023

 

Friend Y comes round for coffee with good natured Blitzi, who has never been anything but kind to Isis, even, on more than one occasion, protecting her by chasing off another dog who has honed in on her in the park.

Does Isis appreciate this? Is she the perfect hostess when he visits her?

No way! She persecutes him mercilessly from the time he arrives to the time he departs.

She begins by twirling in the hall, uttering gruff little ‘uff’s. I put out a dog bed in the front room so that he can sit close to his person and feel safe, but when Isis comes in, she soon sniffs him out, walks up to him, and utters a menacing ‘WAFF!’

He cringes, and moves even closer to his person’s chair. Sometimes he retreats upstairs and lies on a blanket on the landing, but today she is too quick for him, and positions herself on the edge of the rug closest to the door, cutting off  a potential escape. She places her head on her paws and pretends to be asleep. He lies down but keeps a watchful eye on her.

Every now and again, she stands up and shakes herself, just to remind him whose house it is. Poor Blitzi becomes more and more anxious until, when Isis stands up and walks towards him, he loses his nerve completely …………

 

 

 

and leaps onto a very surprised lap!

His face says it all.

When she is out and about, Isis, of course, is quick to remove herself if another dog approaches her. She only picks on canines who encroach on her territory.

I eagerly await the appearance of the ordered soft toys. When the new multi-squeak creatures arrive, and I place the cow on the rug in the front room, Isis sniffs her, picks her up carefully, trots down the hall and deposits her carefully in her dog bed. When she returns I put down the squirrel which receives exactly the same treatment. She knows they’re hers and where they belong.

Later on, after she’s eaten, she settles in her dog bed, picks up the cow, and squeaks her relentlessly.

 

 

 

 

She’s obviously very pleased with her gifts.

I pack them with the rest of Hairy One’s belongings before friend Chris arrives on Saturday. Tomorrow she will drive us down to Cornwall to spend a week in our friend’s cottage.

Isis recognises Chris’s scent immediately, wags her tail joyfully and requests strokes and pats. Last year, to our dismay, she trembled and panted in the back of the car for the entire journey, refusing drinks when offered. This time, we’re hoping that when she recognises the car, she’ll relax.

But she doesn’t. She remains hyper-vigilent, and trembles and pants. But at least she drinks when offered water.

Strange dog: as soon as the car stops, she relaxes, and is perfectly happy to walk about when we stop at a service station.

She remembers S., of course, and wags her tail when she walks into the cottage. When N. arrives, a little later, she is very pleased. He has lived with animals all his life and has a magical effect on them. He reared Percy pigeon from a new born chick who was abandoned when his nest was destroyed by a storm four years ago, and until recently, Percy returned regularly to perch on N.’s head and await a meal; on a larger scale, are previously unwanted horses he has rescued and taken in.

Isis adores Nick, and will happily go off anywhere with him, more eagerly, I regret to admit, than she will with me. In places which are new to her, she often baulks at walking; not, however, if N. is on the  other end of her lead.

 

 

 

I think she enjoyed her holiday.

 

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, a very naughty dog, adopted dogs, clever Isis, Isis at home, Isis knows best, these dogs!, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

a restless spirit

Posted on September 3, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday September 3rd 2023

 

Not until this week does Isis become restive, and even then all that she does is stand at the front door hopefully each day, and push her little damp nose behind my knees to prompt me to open the outside door. When I don’t, she stands in the porch looking quite crestfallen before plodding sadly back down the hall.

Oh dear. The poor little dog wants a walk.

She’s ecstatic when Bev visits. Bev clips on her lead to see if Isis will accompany her on a short pavement walk, but they soon return. All Isis wants, reports Bev, is to get into the car. She really, really wants a walk.

We both feel very sorry for her. Poor little Isis: there’s another two weeks to go before I’m allowed to drive. It’s a long time for a dog. She’s so good and so patient. But she wants to go to the park.

Bev tells Isis that, very soon she’ll drive us to Highbury one morning where she can sniff alongside Nancy, and, hopefully, I can sit on a bench and drink coffee while Bev takes them for a walkabout.

K and Y tell me that they would gladly take Isis out, but, of course, she’d not go with them.

Oh Isis, why do you have to be so obstinate?

Sigh.

In only just over two weeks, I tell her, we’ll be able to walk again every day.

But three weeks is a very long time for a dog to wait.

One day, I venture out into the front garden and carefully pick my way to the gate which someone has left open. Isis wants to join me, so as soon as I’ve closed the gate, I let her out. She’s very pleased, and sniffs at the plants along the edge of the little wild flower meadow raging tangle of very high grass, overgrown oxeye daisies and tall, tall clovers which now overhang the path.  Next, she has a very thorough sniff at the scent which a human or animal visitor has left in the middle of the drive. Whoever left it, she is not impressed: she scratches at it crossly, as though she is attempting to erase it, then barks at it loudly.

Soon she ambles to the gate and stands facing the pavement. If a person walks by, trespassing  on her frontage she’ll bark at their retreating backs as soon as she picks up their scent. For some time now I’ve been aware that she would attack them if she had the opportunity, and I’m very careful to restrain her when we cross to the car. It’s only the exact length of her territory which she guards; anyone who is walking a foot either side is perfectly safe.

Interestingly, when a friendly dog pokes its nose through the gate’s bars, and she realises how close it is, she jumps back. If it were poor Blitzi, of course, she’d yap and threaten him.

She stands at the gate longingly for at least ten minutes. I have to go to her and tap her under her chin before, she plods her reluctant way back in.

“Only two more weeks before we can get into the car,” I tell her. It must be very disheartening for a dog.

But she remains uncomplaining, tolerates my constantly shifting around at night, trying to find a comfortable position, and only growls at me if I accidently poke her with a wandering toe.

 

 

 

 

 

What can I do to mitigate the monotony? Her greatest pleasure in life is sniffing, following scents, pushing her curious nose into every clump of grass. What else does she revel in?

Ah! She loves mouthing her little bear and making her tiger squeak. I bought the multi-squeak tiger years ago and, even after all this time, one of his eight squeakers still works.

There’s an idea.

He isn’t stuffed but flat, with dangly legs and tail, and when Isis shakes him vigorously all of his limbs dance. He’s made by Gorpet, I recall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let’s see what they have available now.

Quite a choice, it appears, in the multisqueak ‘Wild’ range: squirrel, rabbit, monkey, cow and raccoon.

It’s a close call, but eventually I decide to order a cow and a squirrel.

They could arrive as soon as tomorrow.

And, all being well, we’re going with Bev and Nancy to Highbury on Wednesday.

Things are looking up, Isis.

 

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, deaf/blind dog, deaf/blind dog plays, dear little Isis, Isis at home, Isis is sad, Nancy, oh dear, poor Isis, scenting, sleeping, sleeping arrangements | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Isis the magnificent

Posted on August 27, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday August 27th 2023

 

Please excuse the very basic level of communication here, but feeding and cleaning up after Isis are tasks I need to be sure I can do before bringing her home. In the days before I have the operation, I try several positions and manoeuvres which might enable me to look after her properly.

Fortunately, she’s always had a raised stand for her food and water, so it’s not necessary to reach down to floor level, which I definitely can’t do. Through trial and error, I work out that if I transfer my left hand from an imaginary crutch to the kitchen counter, bend my right knee while lifting my left (to be operated on) leg, knee straight, up and out behind me, I can pick up and replace her dishes.

Very balletic! But it works. True, I slop water from the drinking bowl onto the floor, but no-one is perfect!

In some ways, the cleaning up task is harder, as I have to be able to reach to ground level. On the other hand, the target is lighter, and easier to lift. Out I go into the garden. Yes, the challenge here is bending down low enough without falling over. I discover I can do it, in a move similar to the feeding one – but only if I use both hands. This means emerging from the house with my right hand swathed in a dog bag, then dropping the still, as yet, imaginary crutch on top of a swathe of grass, or a low shrub, depending, of course on where the item has been deposited. Simultaneously, I stretch my operated on left leg out behind me. Now my two hands and one leg form a stable tripod, and I am able to lift up my right hand momentarily, grasp the full dog bag and stand to retrieve the crutch. Leaning against the exterior of the house enables me to tie the bag.

Hey Presto! Task accomplished.

Good. I’m sure to improve with practice, I decide. As long as I feel well enough, I should be able to let Isis come home after a week.

Although she’s clearly delighted to be home, I am concerned that she is having a very unstimulating life.

This doesn’t appear to bother her, though. Much to my amazement, within a couple of days of being home, the dear little dog pulls out all of the stops, and adjusts herself to the new situation.

She remains on the day bed when I get up in the morning, and go upstairs to get washed and dressed. This is usually about nine. Then, when getting up time for dogs is signalled, she leaps eagerly to her feet, keen for her day to begin.

She actually stands still, which is previously unheard of, while I clip her collar on, then follows me to the back door and into the garden for a pee. She likes to leave her duties at that, and rushes back in for breakfast; however, I persuade her to return to the garden to complete the next step.

She is magnificent. She doesn’t walk in front of me, or beside me, or attempt to overtake me; instead, she walks a few inches behind me, touching the back of my leg with her nose now and again to check my position.

Yet when my friend M. from Uppingham visits, Isis walks nonchalantly around and in front, and beside her as normal. It’s M, in fact, who notices and points out how careful Isis is being around her me.

The Hairy One is also unusually affectionate, pushing herself into my side, and resting her head on me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

During one somewhat chilly night, I wake to find my right leg cold while my left knee, under Hairy One’s fluffy tail is deliciously warm.

 

 

 

 

But just in case I should become too soppy and sentimental, I have to say that she hasn’t gone completely soft – she isn’t kind to poor Blitzi when he comes round with Y for coffee.

She is sleeping soundly in the back room when they arrive, but quickly picks up her doomed visitor’s scent, and soon arrives in the front room to menace him.

Deaf and blind though she is, she’s merciless. First she sniffs him out and stands stiffly in front of him, then she lies on the rug, close to the door, blocking the poor dog’s escape route. When she next makes a move, Blitzi decides to take no risks, and leaps onto Y’s lap for protection.

 

 

 

 

 

His expression says it all, I think!

Setting aside her dismal record as a host, she is angelic, consistently undemanding, even when I fall asleep and it’s well past her breakfast or tea time.

She moves, without growling, to allow me to access my place on the day bed, and now, after a minute or two, withdraws her paws when I stretch down my feet.

We’ve been back almost three weeks now, and she’s still content to just go out in the garden when necessary, play with her toys after eating, follow me into the front room if we have a visitor, and for the rest of the time lie snoozing with me on the daybed.

Whoever would have believed she could be so co-operative?

Dear little dog.

 

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.

 

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home again

Posted on August 20, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Wednesday August 16th 2023

 

Well, that was a long pause. You’ll probably think we’re paranoid, but we were loathe to announce to the world wide web that the house would be unoccupied and that the householder who returned to it would be too fragile to knock out any potential housebreaker.

A week last Sunday, poor Isis is at the kennels again. I feel dreadful about leaving her again, even though I know that she will be well cared for.

When she realises where we are, she shies away from the main gate. She doesn’t want to go in, but I insist. The staff has seen us on the CTV, and Gordon, who has an excellent relationship with Isis, has pushed out a trolley to accommodate our bags.

Generally, Sophie or Adam take her lead, she walks away without turning her head, and that’s that. I always feel a sad twinge at relinquishing her, but she is brave and stoical. She makes it very easy for me.

But not this time.

She digs all of her little claws into the ground and jerks her head backwards. When urged onward she leans sideways and attempts to cling to my legs.

Oh dear. Defeated and dejected, betrayed by Human, she’s led away.

She’ll settle, of course, she always does. Everyone will be kind to her, of course. She’ll be safe and secure. She has her much loved squirrel. She’ll be fine.

I feel horrible.

I visit Jim and we have a comforting cup of coffee.

Back at home I begin to pack my hospital bags. It’s already Monday morning by the time I finish: I’m off to  the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital, and later today will have a hip replacement.

The hospital is outstanding, the experience almost 100% positive. I expect to be there for two nights, but am not doing well enough with the crutches to be discharged, and finally leave on Saturday.

Isis is booked in at Ray’s until today, but if necessary her stay can be extended. Because of all the separations over the last few months, I want her stay to be as brief as possible.

My friend K picks me up at the hospital and takes me home. My friend Y has offered to take me to collect Hairy One. We have a struggle getting into her car: I know it’s probably not the best of ideas to be doing this on the discharge day, but if I’m not in the car, Isis will refuse to get in. Although she’s been in this car with Blitzi before, she is very anxious about being in cars which are not her car.

I remain in the car with the door wide open so that Isis will be able to smell me. Soon Gordon emerges with Isis, followed by Y who carries the ‘Dogs are good’ canine overnight bag containing Squirrel, a tuggy and the emergency food supply, (just in case).

I stretch my hand out as far as I can to encourage Isis to get into the car, but it takes several minutes, and a good deal of rearguard action from Gordon to persuade her in. Once in, she sits in the passenger well and shakes all the way home. Apparently, she had fought against leaving the kennels. I guess her doggy thinking was, ‘This is where she left me, so this is where she’ll come for me.’

In order to get her to leave the car, we have to perform a double act and emerge together; this is challenging, but never mind.

Once out of the car, Isis is happy for Y to lead her to her gate and up the path, even happier to be let into the porch and to have her lead and harness removed.

Since her return, she’s been a little angel, no trouble at all. We’ve had to make accommodations, and some of these will, hopefully, entertain you in our next post.

Since any prolonged activity wipes me out at present, I’m not able to proof-read, so I hope there are not too many mistakes.

Isis and I are glad to be home.

 

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.

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