Made a list of things while we searched for a dog
Not black & orange as it would remind us too much of kato / Not a puppy / Female
So here’s Seren, and she’s 8
But she is female.
And not a collie so there’s something.
Papa Frodi bemused but fine.( Read more...Collapse )
Frodi is OK though he looks bereft on the odd occasion he has to be left. He’s enjoying his 7 miles twice a week with G and for a 13year old dog he is very fit.
We know we should get another dog. Hippy is pretty much home all day but even so it’s wrong to leave a dog like Frodi alone for more than an hour. We don’t want to buy a dog while so many are in rescue but the rescues have rigid homing policies. We’re too old, too disabled, too honest, we won’t walk her everyday, Frodi will grumble at the home assessor. Being turned down would make me rage, however reasonable the reasons. Like failing an interview for a job I didn't want. How dare they.
The Midlands rescues seem to be wall-to-wall staffys (bit small for us) or dogs who can’t live with other dogs. We don’t mind not having a puppy but not so old that we’re soon losing again. If we go to Sunnyside, the homing policy is more flexible but we know it will be rows of sad, discarded staffys.
Sunnyside do ask that the existing dog has a walk with potential dog on a lead. Frodi doesn’t do leads very well and there is no off-lead area. And it’s sort of meaningless, it’s the introduction in the home that is crucial to whether Frodi accepts his new companion. Frodi liked Dotty but he did try to bully Thorn. He’s great with other dogs out on his walks, especially if he’s off-lead. The internet is full of young dogs for cash sale whose owners’ personal circumstances have changed. I’ve seen a couple of female Rottweiler cross in Birmingham rescues but it’s quite far now for us, if things didn’t work out and we had to return her. We don't mind a few foibles to iron out but perhaps not the full on neurotic mess that Frodi was.
But I know she’s out there, there’s a name, basket and eccentric elderly collie companion waiting.
Throughout Kato illness we did the bargaining thing. One more Christmas (we got two), one more Landmark with people she feels content with (Martello Tower with J &S), one more summer, one more walk with people she adores (thanks G & J) one more visit from P&B so she could chew P’s beard (we had several), one more science defying back from the brink (she did a few) and she saw me through my cancer.
But at the end, it comes down to one more day, one more hour, just five more minutes. What I wouldn’t give to just rest my face on her soft head and inhale that wonderful, warm smell of Kato. Kato never grew up, the eternal puppy, so it feels like she went too soon and we have to remind ourselves that she was 12.5
Losing her has left a huge gap, the house feels too big and the future feels strange.
Kato eyed the kind strangers who had appeared in our hall. She considered going through her friends list and giving them the fang.
“Can I go off lead?” Kato asked instead
“Sure you can Sweetness” I said “Run free Angel”
“You taste of crisps again” Kato said, and peacefully drifted away.
We were grooming Boy Dog, who for once, didn’t snatch the brush and run behind pond with it. We found a lump, similar to the benign ones Froodle had removed a couple of years back. This one is a lot bigger but not annoying him. Neither Nurse Kato or Frodi show any interest in the lump.
At the vets, Frodi had his Snooter box on, being sang to at the nose end (He’s A Good Boy to the tune of Waterloo by Abba) while vet examined the lump. We decided against any further action unless the lump starts to worry him. He’s nearly 13 and elderly, surgery might do him more harm & distress than the lump itself. If we hadn’t been so intrusive with our invasive brushing, we wouldn’t even know, as the Anti-Oppressive Brushing Lobby pointed out.
entire cast of Wind in the Willows neighbour hipsters were all cardiganed up, bearding around their bins.
“Brown bin only tomorrow” I said wisely, though they never actually take their bins in. Bin Mavericks – probably some obscure hipster band I’ve never heard. I felt Kato prickling at the end of the lead as she went through her Friends List. Canine Brain compared the hipster to the ten people on her friends list.
There was a click and a whirr from inside Canine Deep Thought as she hovered over her three Simons. She moved on remembering none of her Simons have ever been seen in a genuine Dad cardigan with fake leather elbow patches.
A hipster raised his hand.
“He’s Got A Gun!” yelped Kato and engaged full
doing it in her pants defensive. Her spine fur stegosaurus style as if she had been electrocuted “Oops, my bad, kebab tray”
“Sorry” I said “Take no notice of her, so it’s brown bin when you’re in any doubt and with the grey bin, I find if I crush my boxes...Ouch Kato! Sorry, she must really need the loo”
Kato pulled impatiently at the lead.
“That wasn’t nice Kato” I said “Are you really so desperate to poo?”
“Saving you from yourself, striking up conversations about bins with people under the age of 25” said Kato
The park was empty. Just one lady with a shriek of small yappy type dogs and an elderly couple sat on a park bench.
To avoid Miss Lovelace from Trumpton and her squawk of designer dogs, we walked quite close to the elderly couple. The man was smoking a roll-up, the lady was reading a magazine.
“What’s that smell?” asked Kato stopping to sniff the air and turning her gaze on the elderly couple “Is it wee?”
“No Kato” I said and gave the elderly couple a friendly smile. I can’t pull Kato’s lead very hard as when Kato is concentrating on A Thought, Kato forgets Balance Thought and will do a dramatic England footballer collapse.
“So what is it?” Kato still being the Bisto Kid whilst staring at the elderly couple “Is it food?”
“No, just...just walk on Kato”
“Oh My Dog, is it like the napalm you wash my Mary with!!”
I looked back over my shoulder as Elderly Person A passed the roll up to Elderly Person B.
“That Kato, is the smell of skunk weed”
A young Lolly visited. Labrador / Collie Cross, cute wiggly playful thing called Dotty. Kato immediately sulked and loudly barked at the Whore Dog Intruder. This is Princess Kato Zone and other dogs must not be cuter or have any attention.
Dotty did her play dead trick and then wrestled a tennis ball.
“Amazing” swooned Frodi having a quick groom with his back paw.
“Pathetic” snarked Kato and continued woofing her displeasure at Dotty.
Kato was evicted into the garden. Frodi invited Dotty to see his etchings, one of his earlier works on the living room door called Separation Anxiety.
Kato was bouncing up and down shouting Flea Ridden Slag Bitch and He Touches Sheep through the window.
Brexit – Sounds like biscuit
Leave - Dreadful command with no biscuit
Stay - Neutral command rewarded with actual biscuit
Scaremongered – the belief that next doors cat is after our biscuits
350 million – even fleas don’t use such stupid numbers
Bremain – dry dog food as prescribed by veterinary experts
UKIP – racist dry dog food
Boris and Gove – overpriced dog food made up of bees, discarded human rights and shredded NHS provision. Magically evades tax.