I don’t want it part 3

Posted on February 12, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday February 12th 2023

 

So, again I fry mince for Isis.  This should be enough to last her for four meals. Unsurprisingly, I have no delusions that she’ll be thrilled with the meal. I pour a little hot water over the mince, mix it well, add a pinch of PlaqueOff powder, as I do every evening, and add her usual kibbles. Then I retire to the front room, expecting the little malcontent to join me in a few seconds.

But she doesn’t. When I inspect her dish, it’s empty; in fact, it is better than empty – it’s polished.

Either she’s eaten it all with huge enthusiasm, or she’s tipped it out behind a cupboard and set to work with a Brillo pad.

I stare at the gleaming bowl in disbelief while she lies in her dog bed playing with Squeaky Squirrel. She plays in her bed like this when she is particularly contented.

Oh, wonderful! She’s eating mince again. Dog knows why, but never mind, she’s not about to go back on hunger strike, is she?

At breakfast next morning, she eats all the mince, but leaves about a third of the kibbles. It’s not a big deal as I can simply add the left over kibble to her evening meal.

So, at six o’clock, I serve her the same sized helpings of mince and kibble as usual, plus the handful she left from her last meal.

There’s a distinct lack of merry chomping coming from the kitchen.

*****r!

Of course, she may just be eating very quietly.

Or not.

The bowl is just as I left it. She’s not even picked out any of the curls of mince. Oh ISIS!

I ignore her, and cook myself two pieces of fish. Hairy One’s nose appears round the kitchen door, twitching and whiffling. The rest of her follows. Her tongue flicks up to her nose. She begins to pace up and down.

Hmmm. No subtlety there then. I cut the smaller fish in half, drop a piece into a clean dish and add eighty grams of kibbles.

She clears her dish.

The following day, I give her exactly the same for breakfast.

She leaves most of it.

The next day I scramble an egg to accompany her kibbles. She turns her head away.

There’s obviously nothing ailing her, I decide, as she leaps energetically up and down in the porch while I struggle to put her into her harnesss. And she enjoys her walk, while the Highbury crows enjoy moist kibble, scrambled egg, cold fish and mince. They don’t leave a scrap.

I wonder if I should swop Isis for a crow.

Dim Human ponders. And ponders. She turns over in her mind all the different foods which she has given Isis over the last few months.

Why does her dog eat something the first time she’s given it, then lose interest in it? Take mince: she never refuses the first portion of mince which is cooked for her, in fact, she seems desperate for it, but then she is at best half-hearted about the next, and refuses any further portions.

Why?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poing! At last the proverbial light bulb flashes in dim Human’s brain. Ah, maybe it’s not  mince, but freshly fried mince which Isis finds so delicious.

Or, on the other hand, perhaps it won’t make a scrap of difference.

In the evening, I fry a pat of fresh mince for her, stir in a little hot water, and add the kibble. She sits tense as a wound spring as she waits for the ‘eat it’ signal. She is still licking her lips when she comes to find me.

The smell of meat cooking is even less thrilling to me in the morning as it was last night, but I force myself to do it. (Hope springs eternal, as the optimists say.)

She is just as pleased with her freshly fried mince this morning as she was last night, and just as pleased with it in the evening, and the next day, and the next, and the next.

Day after day she savours the piquant smells arising from the pan, comes into the kitchen for anticipatory sniffs, and waits by her dish like an Olympic athlete poised for the starting pistol.

What a relief.

 

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.

 

 

 

 E

Posted in a joyful dog, deaf/blind dog, dear little Isis, Highbury Park, Isis at home, Isis knows best, Isis says "No"., oh dear, patience is a virtue., poor Isis, 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

I don’t want it part 2

Posted on February 9, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Thursday February 9th 2023

 

We may recall that Isis, who  was very underweight when rescued from the streets, gobbled up her kibbles with great gusto. A bag of them came with her from the rescue centre. Kerry explained that these were unavailable in Britain, and advised me to wean her off them gradually, replacing them with a different brand.

This I did, and Isis continued to eat heartily. When she developed a severe skin allergy, two years ago, I did some research and bought her Burns Sensitive. This she ate enthusiastically until a few months ago, when her appetite began to diminish.

Since then, it has been necessary to add a little extra flavour. For months she was content with Chappie, but then, eventually, she became bored with that. Since then, as you know,  we’ve been through a range of flavoursome treats: sardines, pilchards, tuna, egg, cheese, chicken – you name it, we’ve tried it. Some of these she’s eaten enthusiastically for a few  days, then she doesn’t want them.

I don’t think that I’m over indulgent, but she’ll refuse to eat for several days. I know she’s not unwell, because, as always, she devours her bedtime treats, but  I can’t allow her to go hungry.

 

*****************************************

 

‘Purina Gourmet Gold Savoury Cake’ the packaging proclaims. Hmmmmm, expensive, but the taste should appeal to a discriminating dog. There are eight tiny tins, two each of ‘with chicken’, ‘with beef’, ‘with tuna’ and ‘with salmon’; moreover, the food is without added artificial flavouring, colouring or preservatives. All of the packaging is recyclable, and no plastic is involved.

This should tick all of the boxes. I know cat food isn’t good for dogs but I only put a tablespoonful in each of Isis’s meals. Her main food is still Burns, and any add-on is just to add piquancy, in other words, to get the hairy little toad to cut out the faffing and get chomping.

After all, what’s for a dog not to like? Surely we’ve hit the jackpot this time …… haven’t we? My only doubt arises from past experience.

I stir a flat tablespoon of Purina’s Gold Savoury Cake into her bowl of kibbles, and offer it to her.  She walks on the spot looking hungry, but makes no attempt to eat.

Sigh.

Ah, wait, impatient Human, there are variables to consider. Yes, the food should appeal to her, but there’s bright light streaming through the glass of the front door and into her dining room.

I lift her feeding frame into the back room, and she eats her breakfast immediately.

Ah, so this exotic cat food does fit the bill. Great!

I serve it again for her next meal and she turns it down.

Breathe deeply Human, and think. How is this meal different from the one she enjoyed this morning? Well, this morning’s repast was fresh. The tin had not been the fridge.

O.K. Perhaps she doesn’t like it being so cold. I add a little hot water. She eats it immediately.

But we’ll not hang out the flags yet, for the next morning she refuses point blank to even consider the offering.

She. Does. Not. Want. It.

I can tell by her expression that were she human, she would say, “No way.”

Unfortunately, I don’t know anyone close by who has a cat. I put her leavings and the rest of the tin into my crow food container.

I wonder whether she’d like liver or kidney. Nigel over the road only has pigs’ kidneys. Nigel and I agree that pigs’ kidneys have a strong smell and should tempt her. But never the optimist, I buy some mince as a back-up.

Shuddering at the thought of the poor pig, I keep my eyes averted as I cross the road, carry the kidney into the house, deposit it on the bottom shelf of the fridge and hastily close the door on it.

I do not enjoy preparing her evening meal, but needs must. I fry the kidney gently in the pan, cut it into small pieces, and place a small heap, still warm, among her kibble.

 

 

 

You must be joking.

You’ve got to be joking.

 

 

 

She walks towards her bowl, but this time stops with her nose about three inches from it, and looks horrified.

Later, I offer it to her when it’s cold. She disdains to sniff it. She’ll not even pick out some bits of kibble. Clearly, she knows that it is kidney contaminated.

Right. The whole meal, plus the freshly cooked kidney remaining in the pan, goes into the crow’s pantry, along with a generous helping of dry porridge oats.

The Highbury crows are delighted with their feast. About eighty of them descend to gobbble it up. They’re particularly pleased with the kidney.

Isis dares to show some interest in what they are eating.

“If you dare to pick up what you refused to eat this morning,” I admonish her, “I’ll have your guts for garters.”

It’s Sunday, and the shops are closed.

Well, it’ll have to be mince, whether she wants it or not.

Back to the drawing board.

 

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 Highbury Park, Isis at home, Isis knows best, Isis says "No"., oh dear, patience is a virtue., something's not right, strange behaviour, these dogs!, 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

Don’t blame me, blame Plusnet!

Posted on February 5, 2023 by patinkingsheath

Sunday February 5th 2023

Apologies, but my landline is down again; consequently, I have no internet access other than via mobile. Have been attempting to use mobile, but it’s an eye crossing task. Hopefully, will get it sorted in the next couple of days.

Have been attempting to post

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

I don’t want it

Posted on January 29, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday January 29th 2023

 

It’s such a relief to have weaned Isis from her previous habit of growling, screaming and yapping her way through each mouthful of her food, that over the months, Human grows complacent. Dog mealtimes should now be stress free, shouldn’t they, especially if the menu is varied? Yes, there have been hiccups of course, but this is only to be expected.

Yet, despite my efforts to change the fare every two or three days, Isis still turns her nose up today at something she ate with relish yesterday, or falls enthusiastically on her breakfast even though it comprises the same ingredients which she refused to eat the previous evening. Each time I post that I’ve cracked it, I soon find out that I’m sadly mistaken.

SIGH.

My dog, it seems, is still dissatisfied with the catering service. She’s probably unsure of how can she manipulate Human in order to get what she wants. I fantasise that this is her dilemma, and that she has been thinking very carefully about the most effective strategies to employ.

Obviously it is very hard for her to set aside years of making as much noise as she can; on the other hand, she really can’t stand any more of Human’s training tricks. Understandable.  I mean, how would you feel if you were desperately hungry, and, just because you barked, your food was snatched away from under your nose, and you had to wait silently for it to be given back to you?

No, there must be a better way of asserting herself without that tarradiddle.

I fantasise further that she must have spent long hours thinking about this, probably while she was at Hollytrees Kennels last month. She would have had plenty of time to herself, and in the kennels, she doesn’t fuss about eating,  just empties her dish as fast as possible  before the other dogs gang up to ambush her and steal her food.

What can she do which will not only wind up Human but also reward Dog?

That’s quite a difficult one. She knows a multitude of ways of upsetting Human, but none of them involves a reward for her: she can swipe the pebble arrangement off the low shelf in the porch, but that will only irritate Human and provoke a loud shriek.

She can leap off the porch step, dragging Human with her so that all the stuff she’s carrying gets scattered over the path, but then she will be made to return to the step until she walks properly, and that’s a waste of time.

When they’re out walking together, she can turn round without any warning and stride off in the opposite direction, but if she does that, Human will bring her back, walk behind her and poke her furry backside as soon as she stops to rest her paws.

She can always stand demurely by the front door, wagging her tail sweetly while her harness is being put on. There’s a tricky strap which has to be fixed under her chest, and this requires a person to bend down with her face almost touching a dog’s muzzle. As soon as she feels heavy breathing on the hairs of her right ear, she can let out the loudest, most explosive  YAFF possible and make Human leap three feet in the air. That’s always good for a laugh – yes, but that’s all a dog gets out of it.

I surmise that Isis continues to wrack her canine brains.

Ah, perhaps she might suddenly remember how anxious Human is when, only a few weeks ago, her precious dog is struck down with that nasty stomach bug.

Yes, indeed, and Isis remembers how much she liked the scrambled egg and rice which was served several times a day.

That was a very welcome change; moreover, she really enjoyed Human holding the little dish for her, and stroking her gently while she lapped up the food.

And she revelled in the praise heaped on her when she licked the dish clean.

Yes, instead of greeting her food bowl with a cacophony of ear piercing screeches, she will be silent – well, perhaps give a pathetically weak woof now and then to keep Human focussed – and just turn her head away from her dish. Alternatively, she can eat a couple of mouthfuls, and when Human, much relieved, relaxes and retires with her Kindle, her dog can push open the door and climb onto the day bed looking off-colour and leaving a virtually full bowl behind her in the kitchen.

 

 

 

 

 

That should stop the lazy so-and-so’s gung-ho behaviour – weighing out of dish of boring kibbles, without even wondering if her little dog might like something more tempting.

Huh!

Yes, she’ll make Human cook her delicious little dishes of scrambled egg and rice, reward her further with lots of pats and strokes, maybe even kiss her on the top of her head when she’s licked away the last stray grain of rice.

What’s not to like?

It sounds like the perfect plan.

Wahay!

 

To be continued   …………………………………………………….

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 Hollytrees, Isis at home, Isis is sad, Isis says "No"., oh dear, patience is a virtue., poor Isis, something's not right, strange behaviour, these dogs!, what on earth's the matter?, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

frost, ice, and mucking about

Posted on January 23, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday January 22nd 2023

 

Over the last week, Isis and I have enjoyed some good walks and managed to visit most of our favourite haunts.

It’s still Wellington boots and black paws, but we have a good time anyway. When the rain pauses to gather strength for its next onslaught, bitter cold rushes in to take its place, and I wonder whether Evri will ever deliver the winter warmers which I ordered from Sock Snob: Heat Holders socks, neck warmer and head band.

I know how amazingly warm and soft the range is because I was given a pair of their socks for Christmas.

Isis doesn’t appear to feel the cold. Only on one evening does she swing her back end into my side and wriggle as close to me as she possibly can. This particular evening, I believe, is the coldest one of the year.

 

 

 

 

I wonder whether she should have her coat on when we go out, but I know that it would only be for my benefit. Her undercoat is thicker than it’s ever been, and her top coat seems to grow several centimetres each night. “Oh my god!” is a common exclamation from admirers in Highbury Park as she hoves into sight.

So I compromise and put her coat in the car, just in case she feels chilly on the way home. She seldom does.

She finds the frost on our back lawn very stimulating. When I let her out in the morning,   she stands bolt upright, sniffing the air. After about ten seconds, she bends her head to sniff the grass, but jolts back as soon as her nose contacts an icy blade. Her movements are exactly the same as when she came across a hedgehog one evening, or when she mistakes a thin, bendy stick for a snake.

Scents always seem more exciting on frosty mornings, and she likes to follow invisible trails back and forth across the garden instead of taking a quick pee before hurrying in for breakfast. Quite often she’s just about to place a paw on her little ramp, when something irresistable entices her back into the garden. This usually happens when I’ve just opened the kitchen door to let her back in, and I’m left standing in my dressing gown assailed by icy blasts.

“Thanks Isis,” I say, hastily closing the door. I know it’ll not be long before a loud, gruff  “WOFF!” commands me to let her in.

As we walk along the little track parallel to the allotments in Holders Lane, making  our way to Cannonhill Park, she is taken by surprise when she steps on the first iced-over puddle. As well she might be. I can’t remember when we last had ice, and I’m sure she’d forgotten what it feels like when one’s paws suddenly descend into icy water. She’s not frightened, but doesn’t care for the experience, and soon learns to step away to the side of the path as soon as she feels ice underfoot.

We’ve not been here for several weeks as the paths have been covered with deep, claggy mud, so it’s an exciting walk for Isis, with numerous delectable smells to be investigated and marked.

Two days later we’re back, this time, at Isis’s insistence, clambouring through the eerie little straggle of wood which borders the river Rea, and emerging onto the playing fields.

She loves the frosty playing fields. She enjoys big, empty spaces where she’s not fenced in. The frost is an added bonus, and she’s galvanised into little hither and thither dashes and twirls as she catches scents wafted by the wind.

One day we’re off through Jasmin Fields to the canal. Now the tall, dense foliage which provides a useful barrier between the canal and the path, has shrunk away, there’s nothing to warn Isis how close the water is, and I have to monitor her very closely, keeping myself between her and the canal while navigating the icy path.

I’ve so many layers on, that it’s only with great difficulty that I manage to zip up my winter dog-walking coat. Just as it’s progressing from very difficult to impossible, my Heat Holders arrive.

The headband and neck warmer make me so hot when I put them on indoors that I can’t wait to rush into the freezing outdoors.

Mmmm ………… I’m ensconsed in unimaginable warmth. I don’t care that my hair is sticking up out of the headband like a pineapple’s spikes – I’m warm from head to toe.

Oh joy! Oh bliss!

Now there’s only one problematic set of extremities left: hands.

I have warm, thickly lined skiing gloves purchased from TK Max several years ago. They’re excellent, so what’s the problem?

Think dogs. Think dog bags. There are some tasks which can’t be completed with one’s hands clad in warm mittens.

Pavement walks are particularly challenging, of course, as one hand is fully occupied with attempting to restrain Isis.

Brrrrr! Here goes. Off with mittens. They’re too bulky to fit into pockets. Where does one put them? O.K. clench them between your knees or wedge them under your arms.

Floppp! As I step forward to collect Hairy One’s offering, the mittens slip from between my knees onto the pavement, narrowly missing the poop. Or floppp! As I scrabble in a pocket to locate the roll of dog bags, or, having located them, faff around attempting to detach one, or having successfully detached one, reach out towards the target, the mittens drop into a patch of mud, then I tread on them.

So I dance and stumble, slide and grumble like a poor imitation of a Charlie Chaplin stunt while Isis, relieved of any responsibilty, blithely tugs on her lead. She’s ready to be off again, please.

I often recall the day, years ago, when our usual silly group is playing with the dogs on the old bowling green in Kings Heath Park. Gary bends to clean up after Cookie. But he bends too quickly, and his business phone slips from his top pocket and lands with a dull plonk in the poop. Simultaneously, the phone begins to ring.

Do we sympathise with our mate? Of course not. We all fall about in hysterics. Gary, temporarily nonplussed, manages to press the on  button and ask in as businesslike a tone as he can muster, “Sorry, but can I ring you back?”

“Are you going to tell him why you had to ring back?” splutters Di, all but overcome with mirth.

“He’ll think you’re talking crap!”, I squeak, hardly able to contain myself.

Other ribald comments follow thick and fast as Gary tries to control his sniggering enough to return the call.

Those were the days.

And that’s enough of that.

 

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, deaf/blind dog plays, dear little Isis, frost and snow, Highbury Park, Holders Lane, Holders Lane Woods, Isis at home, Jasmin Fields, Kings Heath Park, park dogs, park people, rain, scenting, sleeping arrangements, these dogs!, twirling, walking in the park, walking my deaf/blind dog, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

the invalid

Posted on January 15, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday

 

Sunday January 16th 2023

 

Warning to the squeamish: this post is all about what goes into and what comes out of a dog, so perhaps you may not wish to peruse it over breakfast. Perhaps indeed, you may not wish to peruse it, period.

Isis is not her usual enthusiastic self when we play ‘hunt the special treats’ at J’s on Sunday afternoon. It takes her much longer than usual to find three of the four treats, and she gives up on the fourth one, retires to her chosen spot and goes to sleep.

Oh.

She eats her evening meal, but when Monday comes she only nibbles at her breakfast. While we’re out walking, she has diarrhoea.

(This has only happened once before. It was soon after she had left Portugal, and during her first visit to Wales. She was still very underweight and permanently ravenous. While I was asleep, she found and devoured an outsized, raw sweet potato still covered in soil.)

She seems fine when we go for a walk. When we get back, she retches and deposits a small, acidy looking pool on the floorboards. I assume that’s the result of the missed breakfast, and think nothing of it. When we visit the vet for Isis’s booster vaccination and the vet asks about her general health, I answer that she’s fine, and pass off the diarrhoea which hasn’t happened again, and the morning’s little upchuck, as a mere hiccup.

In the evening, she refuses her meal, and later produces another acidy looking pool. She’s looking decidedly sorry for herself now, and has that sad, damp, head-hanging look. I stay with her overnight, and have to mop up two more nasty little pools. She refuses food except for half a gravy bone.

She is definitely ill. But what should I do? It sounds daft from someone who has had dogs for most of her adult life, but except for her summer skin allergy, Isis has never been ill.  And Ellie, my previous dog, only had one, very brief, bout of vomiting over the fourteen years of her life. So it’s well over twenty three years since I have had to treat an indisposed dog.

(Indisposed cats are quite a different matter. Chucking up their food never seems to bother them much. After noisy and histrionic heavings, they glare at one accusingly, as though one were responsible for the nasty little heaps deposited on the rug or the duvet. Then, swishing their tails irritably, they leave the polluted scene to seek somewhere cleaner and more hygienic.

Not so dogs. Typically, as soon as she feels queazy, poor Isis stands bolt upright, looks dismayed, and hastens down from her bed to the floor. She then attempts to make her way outside to avoid defiling our house. Should she – heaven forfend – vomit in the house, she looks distraught, even though, of course, I would never express disapproval. She is not easily consoled: it takes a huge amount of sympathetic head stroking to convince her that it’s not her fault and no-one’s cross with her.)

Now, what must I do? I remember that cold boiled water rather than tap water is a good idea when treating gut problems, but,  although I recall that twelve – or is it twenty-four? – hours of starvation may be the way to proceed, I can’t remember the diet she will need, or the frequency of feeding. I text my close friend Nick the Animal Man, explaining (in graphic detail) what has been going on. I express the hope that he is not eating his lunch, then continue:

‘Should I starve her until tomorrow, or try to tempt her to eat a little?’

He replies within minutes:

‘I would starve her tonight unless she seems really hungry, then you could try her with a very little boiled rice, and possibly a tiny amount of chicken breast. If you decide to starve her, you could use the rice and chicken tomorrow.’

‘Have problem as she’ll not eat chicken. Would scrambled egg do?’

‘Yes, just enough to make the rice palatable.’

Isis doesn’t seek food. She just sleeps all day. But foolish Human has forgotten to take her dish away, and in the evening, crunch, crunch, Hairy One helps herself to a few kibbles.

Inevitably, it’s not long before she throws up again.

Oh dear.

On Wednesday morning I place a flat dessert spoonful of rice and the same amount of scrambled egg in a little cat bowl. She comes to the kitchen door looking hopeful, and I hold the little bowl out to her. She eats hungrily, her whiskers tickling my fingers. She finds it hard to believe that’s all she’s getting, but being Isis, she doesn’t say anything.

I consult my mentor once more. Yes, this amount once an hour should be fine.

She has five of these tiny meals throughout the day, but, of course, no bedtime treats.

All is well.

Now I am less worried.

On Thursday, I double the amount of rice and scrambled egg, and give her three meals. To her delight, we also try a short walk.

Again, all is well, so I buy some minced steak from Nigel, the butcher over the road. On Friday, I give her three meals the same size as the day before with half a dessert spoonful of cooked mince added to each.

On Saturday she has just two meals. They include equal portions of rice, egg and mince and a handful of kibbles. We have a longer walk today. She is eating enthusiastically, and bouncing around happily.

Today I have increased her kibble to the usual amount, and added a taste of dog meat. We’ve fed the crows in Highbury, she’s happily hunted for treats at J’s, and now she’s sleeping soundly.

So no more worries then?

Of course there are worries – I’m a dog owner. Now I’m wondering if I’ve fed her too much  today.

I think I may have. Oh dear.

 

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 vet visit, crisis, deaf/blind dog, dear little Isis, Highbury Park, Isis at home, Isis in trouble, Isis is sad, Isis says "No"., Kings Heath Park, off to the vet, oh dear, poor Isis, sleeping, something's not right, strange behaviour, walking in the park, walking my deaf/blind dog, what on earth's the matter?, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

well, you see, what happened was ……………………………

Posted on January 8, 2023 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday.

 

Sunday January 8th 2023

 

HAPPY

NEW

YEAR

HAPPY NEW YEAR

 

Apologies for the inordinately long gap. Unfortunately, I had an r.a. fatigue wipe out and a low grade infection before Christmas, then covid over the festive – or not – season.

During this unjoyful period, I just managed, disguised by neck-warmers, hood and thick mask, to take Isis out every day except for one, then was comatose for the rest of the day.

Thank goodness we are lucky enough to have vaccines in this country.

I have to report throughout all this, Isis has been brilliant: amazingly patient and undemanding, even though her meals have been presented to her at all hours of the day and night, from 4.00 a.m. to 12.00 p.m., and Human, uninvited, has virtually taken over the day bed. Not infrequently, having crashed onto it after the daily walk, Human has remained there until the following morning, without giving poor Hairy One her bedtime treats.

My already fuzzy grasp of dates and time appears to have dissolved completely, so please overlook any impossible feats such as arriving before I’ve set off, or dropping a week here or there, or straying into the wrong month. Also, it goes without saying, I deny any responsibility for syntactical slips, punctuation poops or even, heaven forfend, spelling spmistakes.

During the third week of December, I want to visit my nephew who lives in Yorkshire. This time, I am very apprehensive about leaving Isis at the kennels. Following her being taken at short notice at the beginning of last year, and being made to run the gauntlet between two rows of barking kennelled dogs, to the only vacant, and furthest away kennel, she has not wanted to be left there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She would only be staying for four nights, but, as all we silly pet owners know, it’s devastating to watch your beloved pet scrabbling to gain a pawhold on the path and turning back to look/sniff pleadingly towards you as s/he’s herded away.

So it is with some apprehension that I pull up at the kennels on December 18th. As we walk through the main gate, I wait miserably for the show-down.

But it doesn’t happen. Isis greets Tracey aimiably, and, without a backward glance, allows Mark to lead her to her Hair B&B. (Sorry, couldn’t resist that.)

What a relief.

She isn’t letting me think that I can take her for granted though, and just leave her somewhere whenever the fancy takes me: when I pick her up, she waves her tail once, then ignores me.

I take her for a walk before we make for home, and when we arrive in the porch, she strolls off down the hallway and disappears into the back room.

Oh.

O.K.

It’s not until the next morning that she joins in our ritual greetings. I place my hand by her nose before sitting next to her, then kiss her head, which, oddly, she loves. She sniffs my face and wags her tail vigorously – unless she’s lying on it, in which case I hook it from underneath her, then she wags it vigorously.

And then, as I’ve already said, Human sinks and Isis is angelic.

Sorry this post is a little short and not hugely inspiring. Human is rapidly running out of energy.

 

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, dear little Isis, Isis at Hollytrees, Isis at home, Isis says "No"., oh dear, sleeping arrangements, these dogs!, VERY early in the morning., who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

APOLERGIZ, APOLERGIZ ……………………

Posted on December 19, 2022 by patinkingsheath

 

 

Many apolergiz. There will not be a post until later in the week as Human has totally run out of energee. Isis pp Human.

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snakes alive – by Isis

Posted on December 11, 2022 by patinkingsheath

 

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday.

 

Sunday December 11th 2022

 

It’s a dull, damp day and I can smell that this is the path which leads to the big woods. Human says I can choose where we go, but she doesn’t mean it. She thinks we’ll walk on a little further and turn into the little lane which takes us up to the first field, or she’ll make me take the path opposite the little lane. If we walk on that one, we’ll go through the big woods as well.

She thinks just because I’m smaller than her, I’m easy to boss around but I’m not. I don’t want to walk along the little lane. It’s boring. And I don’t want to go through her woods. They’re boring. I want to sniff in my little wood.

All the other dogs walk up the little lane. I can smell their pees any day. Lots of dogs come down through the big woods, too. So I’m sure to have someone’s cold nose stuck up my ar  bottom, or someone’s paws pounding past, making the ground shake, and the wind blow my fur on end. Even worse, some rude dog will probably shove its muzzle right into my face and huff and fuff on me. Yuk.

Anyway, Human’s not let me go into my little wood for ages and ages, so I’m blo damn well going today. And I have a strattergy.

I sniff very urgently, then turn round and round with my tail stuck out, as if I’m desperate for a sh poo. I unfold a bit, but not completely, then, pretending to be con-ster-pay-Ted, I shuffle further along the track. When I am well away from the road, I stop for a cra poo. This is sure to annoy Human, snigger, because we’re too far from the dog bin for her to run to it. It wouldn’t be safe. Someone could steal me, so she’ll have to carry the bag all the way through the wood, over the big field, and up the steps before we reach the next bin.

I’m going to enjoy this walk.

I turn into the wood and begin to sniff. There are hundreds of lovely soft leaves under my paws, and the smells coming up from them are amazing. Human is hanging back, leaving me to go first. Tippickul. Someone espeshully brave has to lead the way, and face the dangers. I’m one of those. They call us pie-on-ears. I’m a pie-on-ear.

Then, suddenly, as I am nkeed neekd kneading the lovely leaves, something attacks my front legs. I jump back very quickly. I’m not afraid – I only jump back so fast in case Human might need help. Then something whips at my chin. Oh my dog! It’s snakes. Snakes are very, very danjerus. They can bite a dog. They can even kill a dog.

EEEEEEEEEK! I rush out of the wood, and stand close behind Human – to protect her, of course, because it’s my duty. It’s best to be behind her, then the snakes can’t see me, and if they attack her, I can jump out and surprise them. From behind Human, I give a little woof, just as a warning to the snakes.

She thinks I’m a very brave dog. I know that because she strokes my head and gives me a hug, and says, “Dear, dear, dear.” She knows she’s very for-chew-nut to have such a brave dog to look after her. I don’t want to go back into the wood, but she makes me. She wants me to kill the snakes for her. I can smell that she’s fritened. She keeps patting me, and telling me what a brave dog I am. 

So I step further into the woods. This is better. I’ve passed the snakes. It’s safe now.

But it isn’t: as I walk along, sniffing the smells at the edge of the path, a snake darts out and tries to bite me. Luckerly, I’m too quick for it. This keeps happening, and Human keeps patting me to tell me it’s safe. I know it’s safe. She’s the scared one. She makes me walk in the middle of the path, in front of her. There are no snakes in the middle, so I can stop guarding her, and enjoy xploring. 

Now I can feel vibrashuns in the air. Human is laughing. I expect she’s saying something silly, but I take no notice, just climb over the big tree trunk as usual.

 

 

 

I’m very good at climbing over things. I’ve always been able to do it.

 

 

 

Ah, we’re getting close to the field now. I can smell sweaty human feet. There must be someone running up and down chasing a ball. Humans are very childish. Mind you, some stupid dogs do it too. Blitzi’s always doing it, then he lies down and chews the ball up, and spits all over it. Smells re-vole-ting.

Now we’ve reached the lane, and now we’re on the field. Oh horrer, horrer, there’s a nest of snakes on the grass! I jump backwards. I’m very shocked, but I try to look carm so Human doesn’t get scared again. The snakes don’t come after me. Very, very carefully, I creep up to the nest. I even sniff it. Nothing moves.

That’s OK then, they won’t be attacking Human, but best to be careful, so I back away, and walk around them in a big circle. I find a few more snake nests, so I walk in a big, big circle around every one to show Human there’s nothing to be scared of, and she’ll be perfickly O.K. if she just copies me.

When I catch up with  her, she pats me a lot.

It’s eggs-or-sting having to look after Human everywhere we go. I’m glad when we turn round and take a different way back to the car.

I’ll be glad to be back home.

I expeckt when we get home, she’ll give me a Bacon Sizzler for proteckting her so well.

Bacon Sizzlers are very nice.

I like Bacon Sizzlers.

 

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 clever girl, clever Isis, dear little Isis, Holders Lane, Holders Lane Woods, Isis says "No"., oh dear, patience is a virtue., poor Isis, scenting, something's not right, strange behaviour, these dogs!, walking my deaf/blind dog, what on earth's the matter?, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

snakes alive!

Posted on December 4, 2022 by patinkingsheath

 

 

A post should appear every Sunday.

 

Sunday December 4th 2022

 

It’s a dull, damp day and we’re walking up the path which leads to Holders Woods. I intend to walk on a little further and turn either left to walk along the lane which leads onto the first of the fields, or head off right to follow a path through the woods. I’ve told Isis it’s her choice today.

She doesn’t choose either of these routes, instead she insists on taking the first turning on the left, from which little tracks, now hidden beneath many layers of leaves, meander through the trees close to the river.

This surprises me as she’s not wanted to walk this way for weeks. I attempt to head her off as the tracks are bound to be very muddy, and, already, the light is fading. I admit that I find this place creepy sometimes: the trees, now without leaves, huddle together, their branches black and thrusting, so that it’s not possible to see more than a few yards ahead. We rarely meet a dog walker here.

But Isis insists, and begins to trot jauntily onwards. 

Not for long, though. Hardly has she set paw on the narrow track, when she leaps backwards as though she’s been stung, turns herself round smartly, and dashes back to me. What on earth’s the matter? Once she has postioned herself safely behind Human, she lifts her head and gives a small, not very brave woof.

Now, it’s very, very unusual for Isis to bark when she’s out. Once she leaves the house and crosses the pavement – which, as we know, she considers to be her territory – she seldom makes a sound until she’s back home again.

I know she’s not warning me about a dogless stranger lurking nearby, because that would certainly provoke one of her loud, menacing alarm barks which make the hair on my arms and neck stand on end. I look closely at the spot where she encountered the ‘danger’, but can find nothing. Has an enemy left a particularly potent scent? Did some creature dart out of the undergrowth and nip her? But what sort of creature? Who but woodlice, toads or worms live in this damp undergrowth?

Worms? Ah! The mists of time suddenly lift, and I float back over the years ………….

I think it’s Hairy One’s first spring in Britain. She’s entertaining herself exploring the long grass at the edge of the little wood in Kings Heath Park. She’s on a very long lead, and when she begins a dance ritual, approaching the long grass cautiously, then hastily  retreating, I move closer to see what she’s up to. I am fascinated by what I observe, but still mystified.

She seems to have discovered something hiding in the grass. When she’s close to whatever it is, she stretches her neck forward and tentatively sniffs, then she pounces and pats the ‘something’ before jumping back. I search among the long stems but all I can see is a thin, bendy twig which has sprouted up through the soil, obviously determined to grow into a sapling.

What does she think it is – a snake?

I describe her behaviour in the week’s blog, and Kerry, who is one of the founders of the Aeza cat and dog rescue in Aljezur, Portugal, where Isis came from, told me that is exactly what Portugese dogs do when they come across the little snakes common in the area.

I’ve not seen Isis performing the snake finding routine since, although, of course she now runs free in woods and parks, so she may have made the odd discovery unnoticed. Certainly she’s not performed as she is performing today.

I stare at the track again, and realise that the ground is covered as far as I can see, with long, greeny-yellow stems which have separated from their fallen leaves. I return to Isis who is still reluctant to advance, “Dear, dear, dear,” I murmur sympathetically, stroking her head, “Are those nasty little snakes frightening you?”

I know she can’t hear me, but perhaps there’s a comforting vibration, or the pats make her braver, because she allows me to lead her back onto the beginning of the track where she first became frightened. She’s still quite nervous, and extremely skittish, treading on the spot among the snake stems. The stems are damp and flexible,  so that when a dog steps on the end of one, the other end flips up and taps her legs. She spends a long time sniffing and patting each one and then snatching her paw back.

Eventually we walk further into the wood where there are still stems underfoot, but most of them, overshadowed by the crowded trees and soaked by the dripping mist, are limp and soggy. Some, in more open spots are leaning out over the path, so, intermittently, poor Isis jumps back as though she has touched an electric fence, but the jumps are less frequent and she isn’t afraid to go forward. Now and then we come across thick branches which have fallen across the path, “Here’s a python,” I tell her, but she ignores me.

 

 

 

She was taught long ago how to tackle pythons, and when a hand is placed on her flank, she’ll clambour or leapfrog over them.

 

 

 

We reach the lane. There are a few more stems scattered on the field but, braver now, she sniffs them, backs away and carefully circumnavigates them.

“What a brave girl,” I tell 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 clever girl, clever Isis, dear little Isis, Holders Lane, Holders Lane Woods, Isis says "No"., oh dear, poor Isis, scenting, something's not right, these dogs!, what on earth's the matter?, who'd be a human? | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment