Day 43

I have given up gym for the next two days as I have no time, too much to do.  Priorities. 

I saw today on Boston.com, which I mainly look at for the weather (because there is ANOTHER snow-storm bringing wet snow, sleet, rain and then more wet snow tomorrow into Friday), that Sky, a wire-haired terrier, has just won best in show at the Westminster Show, meaning she is the top dog in America.  Such a strange thing, dog shows, quite awful really, because dogs are interbred so much that they end up having terrible health issues like labradors with epilepsy, and bulldogs who can't breathe.  

Toffee the bulldog - etching by Jess 2008

A film was made exposing these health issues which really count as cruelty to animals, and the BBC has since refused to broadcast Crufts Dog Show.  They have also lost all support from the RSPCA and other dog charities.  Crufts have pledged to put an end to the type of breeding where these things occur.

Our Molly was a case in point.  I would never have bought a pedigreed dog, but she just happened to "have papers", when we got her, in the roundabout way in which that happened.  Her full name was Midnight Molly for Mrs Martin, and we received her pedigree sheet showing her family tree.  But she suffered from horrible seizures and ADHD, if dogs can be diagnosed with that, poor thing.  She needed to run every day, as well as gallop and canter and bound and sprint and fly!

Mad Molly, as wild as a snowstorm.

She was so different from our Skye, our dear black lab in South Africa, whom we had to leave when we came to America.  Skye was the most mellow dog you could imagine.  The sweetest dog I have ever had, I think.  Our friend found her a home with a lovely artist in Zeekoevlei in Cape Town, which was the perfect place for her in every way.  Zeekoe means hippo in Dutch, and vlei is a shallow lake.  She was rather like a hippo, a little round thing who never lost her puppy fat, who loved swimming in any water, especially lakes, and for whom wallowing was a speciality. 

She once won Dogs: Best Trick, at a show for mongrels at the Village Green in Grahamstown.  Tim, taking into account her natural ability to pick things up and carry them about (she was constantly bringing us presents of stray socks or soft toys), had somehow taught her to fight with one of the boys' wooden swords.  When he picked up a sword and shouted "Hiyaaa!" she would excitedly grab the other one which had been left conveniently on the ground in front of her, and brandish it as skillfullly as a muskateer!   Only Tim wasn't there with us that day at the Village Green, so it was I who wielded the sword shouting "HIYAAAA!" for her to perform the trick, thus embarrassing all my children. 

Skye a.k.a. Spud-dog, on the beach.

When we came to America our first friends were the Taylors, who had a beautiful Irish setter named Mr Furley.  There were days when they worked long hours and couldn't let him out, so we ended up looking after him and then for a few days each week, virtually sharing him.  The boys were paid to walk him, which was a wonderful job for them! 

Mr Furley lying on the carpet - etching by Matthew 2005

When Mr Furley died we were almost as devastated as his real family.  I wrote a poem in his honour, and will end with it, because dogs are both natural and man-made, and a huge topic, so I will continue with dogs tomorrow. 

Requiem (for Mr Furley)

               

Easing our passage into this strange land,

You were gentle-natured, always happy

To be with us, sitting quietly or loping off for walks

To the winter Faun Bar, our beach

Where in summer we all swam together

You swimming alongside those you loved

Patient and sociable, sharing time and love

So equitably with your two families

Everyone always gladder for seeing you.

But today we weep, we mourn

Eyes suffering with such a grief

Heavy hearted, shards of memories reflecting.

For you, beautiful red dog

Have carried your last stone

Along the beach.

You’ve smiled your last dog-smile

Wagged your feathery tail

Spread your dignified gaze upon us all.

As you bound forth to greet Sirius

Your fiery coat is sleek 

And swift your bounteous long-legged grace