Post-Christmas

Post-Christmas

It’s a beautiful cold clear day. The sky is blue, the sun is shining, there’s no wind and the dogs have enjoyed a walk and a swim in Crowthorne Forest. Roxy has just finished a small snack of coal – that makes a change from one of Frankie’s toy cars or a piece of Lego.  Now she, like her friends and relations, is damply snoozing.

It is unnaturally quiet here, after a very busy and enjoyable Christmas Day with Bethan and Robert in London. 

Bethan's family and Robert’s family enjoyed the day together.

Some of the sixteen . . .

 Sadly the Dorset contingent of our family was missing. Having had a very difficult twelve months they did not want to be far from home. Hopefully 2017 will be a much happier time for them.

Susannah in pensive mood

Now, though, Barry and I are sitting in splendid isolation, if it is possible to be isolated with so many faithful furry companions. On Boxing Day Susannah travelled to Antigua where she will be distracted from missing and worrying about Frankie, who is in Cornwall, visiting his paternal grandparents.  

Tomorrow we shall pack the dogs into the car and visit Gillian and her family in Dorset. Bertie will enjoy seeing his brother, Buster, and Roxy will be highly delighted to romp with her siblings again.

New Year’s Eve, or Old Year’s Night as my Norfolk brother-in-law calls it, beckons but we shall ignore its lure and remain by our own warm fireside. We shall probably watch the fireworks televised from London – they are usually spectacular. Doubtless there will be many local fireworks, which are a trial for poor Gus.

Frankie will be home again in the afternoon. Then, on New Year’s Day, he and I are driving to Heathrow to meet Susannah. (Barry will be dog-sitting.) I suspect she will spend much of the following day pushing out the zeds.

 . . . and then it will be back to business as usual . . . (sigh)

Happy New Year, one and all, and may 2017 be Healthy, Happy and Prosperous.

Key words

Key words

 Our dogs understand a great deal of English. As well as the more usual, ‘Breakfast, supper, biscuits, coming out?’ they also know ‘trousers’. Barry comes downstairs in his pyjamas in the morning for his first pot of tea. When he says, prior to us going out, ‘I’ll just go and get my trousers on,’ the three younger dogs rise from their resting places (sofa, chair, rug) and race upstairs after, or more often ahead of, him. Now that Barry has two new knees I don’t worry so much about the dogs barging him.

When we say, ‘We’d better put their collars on’, they get very excited and when it’s followed by, ‘I’ll just get the car on the drive’ their joyous anticipation accelerates. After that it’s, ‘boots on’ that convinces them that we are really all going out (not the cats, obviously!)

 ‘Who did that?’ causes consternation and a downturn of the tail and ‘Behave’ elicits grins from Gus and Bertie. Jenna and Roxy do not grin. ‘Bed now’, means it’s time to retire for the night and then all the animals trot up to our bed. Gus, Bertie and Roxy leap onto it, followed by Herschel, Isambard and Jellicoe. (Jenna is an older lady now and prefers the peace and solitude of her own bed.) Solomon is often already there and has to be persuaded to vacate his place and allow them access. Very often I go upstairs first so that I can claim my bed space.

Gus is really too big to be a lap dog . . .

. . . but when you're tired after a good walk and swim . . .

. . . the Master's lap is the only place to be, though it's jolly difficult to get comfortable.

They also recognise their canine friends’ names in conversation.

However, the prize must go to Barry’s cousin Sylvia’s late Jack Russell. Jack was an enormous help, collecting items for her and picking up things she had dropped. He was a very alert little dog, always prepared to help, particularly if it meant he would receive a treat, but even Sylvia was astonished on one occasion. She is an expert knitter but one day she said, ‘Oh, I’ve dropped a stitch,’ and Jack busily hunted for it. I suspect he had a treat even though he couldn’t find the dropped stitch.

After a lifetime of living with dogs (and cats) we are still learning about and from them. They are fantastic companions and ask so little of us. Increasingly we realise their understanding is so much greater than we ever thought. 

I’m sure they will soon master spelling as we frequently spell out words in order to avoid over-excitement.

Cats!

Cats!

We have had a number of cats throughout the years, even, for a brief period, breeding them. Our Burmese were recommended  by our vets, to people seeking kittens, for their friendly dispositions and apparent immunity to alarm. We had four children and they and their friends were instrumental in ensuring that our kittens grew up used to the hustle and bustle of a busy home and loving the attention they were given.

Recently I read Eleanor Farjeon’s poem ‘Cats Sleep Anywhere’ to Frankie. It’s a poem many of us will have learnt at school (and then forgotten apart from the first couple of lines!)

Cats Sleep Anywhere

Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair.

Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge.

Open drawer, empty shoe, anybody’s lap will do.

Fitted in a cardboard box, in the cupboard with your frocks.

Anywhere! They don’t care! Cats sleep anywhere.

Eleanor Farjeon 1881-1965

This was the cover of my copy of the poem.

Here is a small selection from the thousands of photos we have of our many cats. Many of them are pictured with our dogs. All our cats have loved our dogs. Some of them enjoyed blogging. Some were quite literary. Some enjoyed watching educational programmes on the television . . . or rugby.

Jellicoe,  our 4-year-old  Classic Ocicat . Classics are now known as Aztecs!

Susannah's  one-year-old Somali, Solomon

Marnie with the late Pansy, one of our blue Burmese, about fourteen years ago.

Jellicoe pretending to be a lap cushion!

The late Monty Ocicat with a young Jenna. Monty died when he was three of congestive heart failure

Susannah's Abyssinian, Pats, as a kitten. She is now ten years old.

Jenna with Winston Ocicat, who died unexpectedly when he was six years old.

Susannah providing a perch for Winston

Monty with the late, great Frodo, my velcro dog

Monty loved watching television . . .

. . . and he would not move to allow a dog into a dog bed.  Here it's Jenna trying to get comfortable.

Young Frodo with elderly blue Burmese, Pansy (top) and Singleton.  

If the cats have a squabble, as cats frequently will, they sometimes seek solace. Here it is  Cariadd, our first Dalmatian, doing the honours. There are six Burmese cats sitting on her. To her right are the hindquarters of Biddy, our first Jack Russell.

Christmas Winston!

Winston appreciating my Kindle

Clown, Magic and Angus, all Burmese. Clown and Angus were brothers.

Alicat, our first Burmese, with Bethan, thirty-three years ago

The cats liked sitting and sleeping on the aquarium cover. It was warm and there was always a slight chance that they might catch a snack! Here are, from left to right, Magic, Angus, Pansy, Alicat(behind Pansy), Sweet Pea, Clown and Singleton

Monty studying a spotted cousin . . .

 . . . and here listening to Jim Al-Khalili

Monty and Winston

Winston the blogger

Jellicoe and Isambard sharing Bertie's bed

Herschel and Bertie

  

The Twenty-Third Blog of Augustus Lazarus Cooke (Gus)

The Twenty-Third Blog of Augustus Lazarus Cooke (Gus)

Hello everyone!

It’s very busy in our house. There are so many rings at the door that us dogs have given up barking. Mrs H says that’s just as well or we would be ho(a)rse. I don’t understand that – we’re dogs and we couldn’t be horses if we tried.

Roxy saw her first horse the other day. She followed him, trying to sniff his bottom. Mrs H was worried about his hooves but they looked all right to me.

Roxy’s mum and dad had a new litter of puppies. Mr and Mrs H thought about having one of Roxy’s sisters but decided against it as they say they’ve got enough on their hands. I’ve just looked at their hands and I don’t know what they’re talking about. Mr H hasn’t got anything on his hands and there are only a couple of rings on Mrs H’s. Humans do say some funny things sometimes.

Bruno (left) and Bella 

Anyway, Gillian and Marnie have got a sister and brother of Roxy’s. They’re called Bella and Bruno. The first time we saw them they were really small and we couldn’t have a good look at them. 

Left to right: Foxy, Jenna, Bertie, Bella, Isla (human),Bruno, Gus

The next time they came we all went into Simons Wood together – it was fun. Since then Foxy died very suddenly. We were all very sad about that. She was Bertie and Buster’s aunt and lived with Gillian and Buster (Bertie’s brother) in Dorset. It’s a good thing Gillian has Bella otherwise Buster would be very lonely. I loved Foxy. I used to lie next to her and lick her for hours. Mrs H says she was the prettiest little puppy she’s ever seen. Course, I didn’t know her then. I’m only seven and she was eleven, the same age as Jenna.

Foxy 

Dominie with Foxy 

Roxy loves seeing the puppies. Last time, we all played in the garden ‘cos we didn’t have time to go to the woods. Mrs H took us out in the morning before Gillian and Marnie came and then all the humans went to Frankie’s birthday party. He was only little when he and Susannah came to live with us. He’s four now and quite grown up. 

He likes taking photos with Mrs H’s iPad and the other day he used her camera. 

He needs some more practice, I think.

The cats had their fourth birthday, too, but they didn’t have a party. They were terrified of us dogs when they first came here but now they love to snuggle up with us.

Left to right: Jellicoe, Isambard, Bertie

Top to bottom: Herschel, Bertie, Jellicoe, Isambard, Jenna

Christmas is coming. I’m still not sure what that is but the house is filling up with strange parcels and Frankie is getting very excited. He had to dress up as a sheep the other day for something called 'The Nurtivitee'. 

The cats liked his costume!

I don’t think there’s anything else to report. 

Be good.

Hwyl fawr am nawr! (That’s Welsh for ‘Goodbye for now!’)