A Good Dog

 

Hannah asked me to go with her to the garden centre; she wanted to buy some houseplants. It’s the first time she’s shown any real interest in horticulture since she started a couple of bonsai projects a few years ago. She bonsaied the life out of an ash seedling and a hawthorn. The hawthorn still survives; the ash succumbed to dieback.

While we were there, I found myself tempted by tulip bulbs. I resisted, having only today managed to plant the tulip bulbs I bought more than six weeks ago. Thankfully, they’re all in the ground now, though I still have a good number of daffodils waiting to be planted.

My original idea had been to plant the bulbs on Judy’s grave, but the area has become rather grassy, and I was reluctant to start digging it over - and it’s far too wet to hoe. I don’t know why I worried, for Bert planted her deep.

Phoenix, Locky’s husky, lies not far behind her, with Dora, Jazzer’s dog, resting between them. Locky once talked about getting little plaques, but he hasn’t got round to it, and I rather hope he’s forgotten.

I had thought about painting stones for them instead. I even bought the paint, but, like so many things, I’ve not got around to it. Locky hasn’t been to visit since he buried Phoenix.

I miss Judy a lot. She died on the 5th of September, in the time between Jonny’s death and his funeral. That was very much on our minds then. People are more important than dogs, are they not? It felt wrong to make too much of Judy’s passing when we were mourning a dearly loved member of our family. But I do miss her. She was a good dog.

Judy and Dora

Judy and Phoenix

At the beach

A Letter From Nelly

Springhill,

Cullybackey

31^st January, 2025

My Dearest Cousin,

Hoping this letter finds you and yours in good spirits. I am sorry to have left this letter so long, but life got in the way as they say. A great deal has happened since I last dropped you a line, and not all of it was good.

Were I to dwell on global occurrences I might depress us both so much that we should have to take to our beds for the remainder of the winter. Instead, I will concentrate on domestic matters.

We had quite the storm last week, quite unsafe to go out of doors with all the bits of hedges and trees blowing about. Sadly the middle bay of our polytunnel lost its covering and of course, the children’s trampoline rolled away taking the washing line and part of a small tree with it. The trampoline is wrecked but it could have been much worse. Our friend Howie lost his polytunnel, glasshouse, hen house and hens. His hens were not blown away, Foxy took them. Such opportunists, foxes.

Still, we were lucky to keep the electricity. It didn’t even flicker. Others were not so fortunate with thousands of people without power for days.

The next thing was I got another stomach bug. Remember I had one just after Christmas. Throwing up for 12 hours and off my food and feet for another 12. No fun. Folk keep telling me it’s a virus, something going around but funny it always seems to happen when I have been ‘over-indulging’ which is something I tend to do when my friend Cinta is having a sleepover. I’ve decided to eat more sensibly for a while and not to take alcohol at all. So far so good.

Speaking of eating sensibly, Bert has been told he has Type2 diabetes! Swisser could hardly believe it as he has always been slim. On Tuesday had a long day at the hospital having various tests as his blood sugar was extremely high. They were even considering starting him on insulin! Querying he might have Type1! Which would be highly unusual for a man of his years. Instead, he is on another drug and has to do a prick test before and after meals so we are both going to be eating sensibly from now on. The good news is that his blood sugar score has more than halved and the lovely nurses are pleased with him. Bert has been fortunate not to have had much to do with hospitals etc. and cannot get over how lovely everyone is. I told him it’s because he is a lovely patient.

Of course, he is a little bit sad that he can’t have cream and lashings of golden syrup on his porridge anymore. I have told him he can have it as a treat on his birthday.

But poor Cinta! When she was with us at the weekend she said she had five days off work to look forward to and was so happy about it. But that evening her dog Dora (sister to our Jess) collapsed while out on a nighttime walk and had to be carried home. They managed to get a vet’s appointment the next day but the news was very bad. The whole family are heartbroken. They brought her out to bury her here yesterday. She got a lovely spot between the hamamelis and the hebe. It’s strange to think that next January (If we are spared!) and the hamamelis is in full bloom again she will be gone 12 months. The life of a dog is not long.

Which brings Judy to mind. I cannot see her being with us a year hence. Oh! I will be glad to see this month over and done with. Too much anger and sadness and not nearly enough hope.

I shall finish now before I drive you under the bed covers. Perhaps the next time I write there will be some more cheerful news to report

Your loving, hopeful cousin,

Nelly

Dora and Jess in their younger days. Dora at the front

Hamamelis Pallida 

Conversations with Bert

The first thing Bert said to me when he came down this morning was,

How did Ivan Kroll die?

I say,

Who the fuck is Ivan Kroll?

I'm thinking, knowing his interests,

(a) some Nazi

(b) Eastern European politician 

(c) why is he asking me?

He elaborates,

You know, that show we watched - Boy Swallows Universe.

Oh that Ivan Kroll. He died horribly. How can you not know that? We only finished watching it two weeks ago.

Truth be told, I had to look it up myself. I remembered the horrible bit and I remembered it was Gus. Other details escaped me.

OK. Gus pushed him through a glass clock in a tower and he landed on a limousine. Totally dead.

So who's Gus?

Later on Jazzer called while I was making dinner. She begins,

I know you'll want an update on Dora since Ben was talking to Bert...

Bert never said anything to me about Dora. Or Ben.

Oh well. We took her to the vet yesterday to have that lump investigated and it's OK. Nothing sinister, she had it removed and they are happy enough that it was benign. 

We talk on, supportive on my side, relieved on hers, jointly agree on husbands never telling us anything important. Call finishes.

I go in to speak to Bert and I am filled with wickedness. I say,

That was Jazzer on the phone. 

I sigh and continue,

Poor old Dora.

His face drops. I relent.

It's OK. She had her operation, she's fine, it's benign, she's going to be OK. Why didn't you tell me?

I forgot. You came in with the girls, they were fussing with Chico and Cleo. I just forgot. 

I'm putting it down to Bert's superior abilty in compartmentalisation. Worrying things are put in one box, trivia in another. Another example, we went out for lunch on Sunday with some good friends. While she and I were discussing psychopaths we have known and know, Bert and he were discussing who was Sheila Grant's first husband in Brookside. That's when I told him about IMDB.*

*Enzway - everybody knows it was Ricky Tomlinson.

Doggy Day Care

 

Lulu - 7 night stay, full board. Fee - one bottle of Dingle gin.

Nellybert has been doing Doggy Day Care for the last few days. Lulu (above) is still with us and settling into a nice routine. Up bright and early, toilette, breakfast. Back to bed with Bert for two-hour lie-in. Up again around 10, breakfast again, run around yard, follow Nelly everywhere, light lunch, run around yard, hang out with Ziggy, schmooze with every caller, run around yard, stand in front of every vehicle that enters or leaves yard, including farm vehicles, and the bigger the better. Supper, rat patrol, put hens in, bark for 30 minutes, beat Nellybert into submission, sit on laps for an hour or more, evening pee, rat patrol, treat, bed with Nelly, under quilt, of course. Nighty-night. Big sleep, wake up and repeat.

Rex - 2 night stay, full board. Fee - one very good Prosecco which I did not share with Bert.

Rex is back with Swisser. His stay was a short one. Most callers thought him the handsomest collie X in the world. He got on well with Lulu although the two nights they were both here were very hard on Jess who became bad with her nerves. Rex, her litter mate, is naturally dominant which his sister resents. Jess dislikes all her litter mates apart from Dora. Ziggy was not impressed with Rex at all but at least Zigs can escape to his own apartments. Judy? She ignores the whole lot of them.

Judy

Jess Dora

Ziggy

Every Picture: Jess

Yippee! Last day and last post of the month and tonight's main topic will be Jess the Sprollie who everyone (except for Rod) thinks weird. I expect it is because she was the one that no one wanted. There were six pups in that litter, one male and five bitches and they were all going to be drowned. Until our friend heard of it. He said he'd take two and when he told us we said we'd take the remaining four and find homes for them. Swisser said she'd take the boy.

Handsome Rex, who lives between Bradford and Portballintrae

Howard chose Tegan and Pip who had to share their living quarters in rural Magherafelt with a couple of cats.

Of the four that came to us the Banjos chose Dora. She lives in Antrim and only rarely sleeps in Marty's banjo case.

Some people we didn't know came to look at the remaining two and they didn't choose Jess. They chose Darcy.

Darcy is the one at the front. Dora is in the middle and Jess is at the back. She was very lonely when Darcy and Dora left.

But she still had Judy. 

And Bonnie for a little while.

Now Hannah has informed me that I must pay more attention to Jess before she becomes irredeemably weird as there is no one special in her life. Well, she has Rod, who loves her dearly. He loves all the dogs but Jess is his favourite and she knows it. She used to see him very often but these days, not so much. For Rod is a musician and spends a lot of time on the road.

Rod and Tracey on stage. When Rod has to sing sad songs he thinks of Jess and how much he misses her. 

Jess and Tracey

When Tracey has to sing 'Jolene' she thinks of Jess.