Monday 20 May 2013

I do not pretend to have mastered the secrets of the Timelords - but join me nonetheless as we step back a short while to before the recent unfortunate fang-based incident.  The hot topic of the moment was, of course, Gisèle's ill-advised "I love Peaches Party", which she was planning for one of the most irredeemably evil cats it has ever been my misfortune to encounter.  Giz's theory was that Peaches was so abominably foul to any and everyone because he was lonely and didn't have any friends.  Well, that much may be true, but in all the years I knew Peaches and shared a street with him I never heard him express any desire for a companion - quite the reverse, in fact.  Ghastly little maggot.

Anyway - Gisèle had made up her mind and was not to be swayed.  She had successfully roped in a reluctant Laddie and an even-more-reluctant and nonplussed Betty and was happily chattering to anyone who would listen (and a few who wouldn't) about her plans for the great event.  Betty's expression was one of weary resignation as she was forced to listen to another stream of party-prattle from her little Jack Russell friend.

"...Rosie says she will come if she doesn't have to sit in the garden with Peaches.  Fizzy says she's not coming if you are coming because she hates your whiskers-"
Betty snorted derisively.
"I should refuse to attend any function to which she was invited, in any case." barked Elizabeth.
"Well, quite.  Honey says she'll only come if Peaches isn't going to be there, so we'd better put her down as a 'no'.  Laddie is definitely coming, Archie [Jack Russell at the end of our terrace] says he might if I give him a kiss and Digby [Westie who has the gross misfortune to live next-door to Peaches] says he wouldn't come if I gave him all the roast beef in the world.  So a nice little number, I think..."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake Gizzles, just chuck some money at the d*mn thing and go out for the day!" sighed Betty.

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean give your housekeeper and the staff a wad of overtime and enough for their own party and let THEM manage the whole sordid affair.  That's what I'd do.".

"I haven't got a housekeeper!" yipped Giz, "Or any staff."
Betty, it must be explained, normally resides in a household with indoor AND outdoor staff - she possibly even has a maid to prepare her own meals, but of this one cannot be certain as Betty is extremely discreet and well-cultured.

"Well, what about your gamekeeper or estates manager?" sighed Betty, "Can't either of them sort something out, if you make it, er, worth their while?"

"I'm not sure what lands or estates you think I might have somewhere else, Bettz, but this is pretty much it." replied Giz, gesturing around at our small garden.

"It's nice.  I like sitting in this garden." said Betty, "But I've really got a bad feeling about this Peaches party, Giz.  I mean, he's SUCH a grotty little turd."

"Betty, that's unkind!" exclaimed Gisèle.  "Anyway, it's too late.  The invitations have gone out, Laddie is bringing some dips, Mistress is going to buy a carton of special milk for cats when she next goes to the shops, and I killed that mouse which I'm saving for our guest of honour..."

"Oh dear, were you saving it for the party?" mumbled Betty, looking shifty, "That might be a bit of a problem..."

"Why?"

"I ate it." confessed Betty, "Sorry Gizzy, I didn't realise you were saving it for the party..."

"Betty!" yapped Giz, "I TOLD you I was saving it for the party!  I'm going to have to do another one now!"

"Sorry." said Betty, humbled.

"Never mind." sighed little Gizmo, "I suppose a new one will be fresher...  So - are you all clear about what you are doing on the day?"

"Ye-ees." groaned Betty, rolling her eyes heavenwards. "I greet the guests when they arrive and bark 'Hello, welcome to our Peaches Party, may I take your lead and collar?  Drinks are over there.'  And don't worry Giz, I'll make sure that my maid's outfit is clean and freshly-pressed..."

"There is no need for sarcasm, Elizabeth." replied Giz, giving her friend a cheeky smile nevertheless. "Isn't this all so VERY exciting?!  It's getting closer - I can't wait for the party to come!"

"I bl**dy-well can..." muttered Betty under her breath.  Fortunately, Gisèle had pattered off indoors to re-count her party napkins and did not hear her.

Dear, oh dear...

By way of light relief, here is a picture of Gisèle from yesterday's Watercress Festival, where she was doing the rounds as Watercress Canine Princess.  Forgive the rather bizarre expression on her little face - she was attempting to wink at the camera:-

Saturday 18 May 2013

"Rest in Peace" they say, "Rest in Peace".  Well, the last couple of weeks have been anything BUT peaceful for this restee.  What a business.

Betty was collected at the beginning of the week by her mortified owner, and packed off in high dudgeon.  This left my partner and me to deal with Gisèle.  As she, herself, had been injured (and has subsequently been stitched and medicated) I felt a twinge of guilt at having to discipline her.  However, I only had to recall the sound of her hiding in the airing-cupboard with Betty, giggling at what they had done - and to witness my partner's continuing pain in her right wrist - for my prickling anger to return.

"Sit down."  I barked at Giz as she tip-clawed hesitantly into the sitting room, shortly after Betty had been collected.
"Where's Betty?" asked the little Jack Russell.
"Never you mind." I replied, not inclined to chat.  "Answer me; you are aware of the injuries to your neck?"
"Yes." came the sulky reply.
"You are aware of the severe - and potentially permanent - injuries to your Mistress?"
"Yes."
"Then tell me why you were laughing."
"I wasn't laughing."
"Gisèle, I heard you.  Why were you laughing?"
"Because Betty was laughing."
"And why was Betty laughing?"
"Um... because I was laughing..."  Dear reader, I was frustrated to the point of wanting to slap Giz at her silly thoughtlessness.  "Jazz, guess what?" she piped up, "I ate some fish for tea the other night and then I did some botty-gas later and it smelled of fish.  And the NEXT night I ate some chicken and my botty-gas later smelled of chicken!  Is that magic, Jazz?  Can I do magic now?!"

I lost it.

"GISÈLE!"  I roared, terrifying the small dog out of her wits, "If you thought that you were going to somehow diffuse the blame for this because Betty was involved as well, or if you thought you were going to get around me by being silly, then you can nip those thoughts in the bud RIGHT NOW.  You have committed the gravest crime known to dog-kind: you have bitten the kindly hand that feeds you.  How DARE you?!  And your reaction is to hide in a cupboard with the other miscreant and snigger at your actions!  You foolish, silly girl!  HOW DARE YOU?!"
"Betty-"
"Elizabeth has gone home to be disciplined separately.  Have you SEEN your Mistress's wrist?  Would you like that to happen to YOU?!"
"No, sir.  Not even one little bit." mumbled Giz, hanging her head in shame.
"Do you know how close you have come to losing your home?  Someone has even offered to buy you from your Mistress, even though you have demonstrated beyond doubt your TOTAL worthlessness and complete failure as a dog!"
Gisèle burst into tears, but I was too angry to feel pity for her.
"You were naughty too..." she sniffled pathetically, "When you first moved into Mistress's house with her parents, I read it on-"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" I bellowed, glaring furiously at the cowering terrier. "Yes!  I was extremely wicked and stupid.  But I never bit anyone!  And the main thing - the MOST IMPORTANT thing - is that I learned from my folly.  You show no sign of improvement from this wretched business, and that is the worst aspect of the piece.  Betty - whatever her faults - at least sought out my partner and apologised before she was taken away.  You don't deserve your nice home here you stupid, stupid little girl."

By now, Giz was wailing openly and had wet herself.  Despite the fact that it had been her fang and not Betty's that had pierced my partner's artery I felt that I had now barked enough.

Gisèle was crying so much that she was incapable of speech.

"I take it from your reaction that you ARE genuinely sorry?"
Giz nodded miserably.
"Yes, sir."
"You will modify your behaviour?"
"Yes, sir."
"And this type of incident will never be repeated?"
"No, sir - um, yes, sir..."
"You are fortunate.  You have been forgiven.  There are few dogs who would be granted pardon after an outrage of this nature.  It will serve you well if you remember this in the future."
"Yes sir.  Thank you, sir."
"It is not me you must thank.  Forgiveness was not mine to bestow."

As awful as it had been to rant and storm at little Gisèle I could see that she had accepted and was seriously considering what she had heard, with an air of maturity hitherto unapparent in her mental make-up.
"Sir - please can I ask-" she whispered, making me jump. "-Betty.  She is my friend. Will she- is she-"

"Elizabeth is to be allowed to return." I informed her, trying to disguise the fact that I didn't entirely agree with this decision.  Gisèle's little face lit up.  "But-" I cut in, "There are to be strict conditions.  One: When Betty stays here, you will stay with your Mistress's parents and you will meet only for your walks and games; Two: If your Mistress's parents are away, Betty will stay here with you - in this case she will be muzzled, except during your recreational and dining periods;-"

Gisèle gasped in horror at this.  The prospect of having to be muzzled due to an inability to control one's temper is anathema to every decent-thinking dog.  I ignored her appalled squeak - Betty (and Gisèle) had brought this entirely on themselves.

"-Three: You and Betty are no longer permitted to share a bedroom.  You have each demonstrated that your private conversations and opinions are a malign influence upon the other.  Therefore you are no longer permitted to spend considerable lengths of time in each other's unsupervised company.  You will be accompanied, when together, by my partner - your Mistress - or another responsible adult of her determination, and you will spend your time together in a respectable way, without undue giggling or silliness; Four: You will both understand and accept that this is your final warning.  ANY repetition - or hint of such - will result in a full and final separation.  There will be no debate or negotiation regarding these conditions.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."
"Good girl.  Then let us never speak of this again."
"Thank you, sir."

Gisèle crept off to have a long and conciliatory cuddle from my partner whilst I felt incredible relief.  And to think I had been fretting about the much-vaunted "I Love Peaches Party"...

What a business....

Sunday 10 May 2013

Grumble... I HATE these 'stop press'-type announcements; they almost always spell bad news.  And in this one in particular I don't see why I should have to be the one who barks about it; Gisèle (the villain of the piece) should have to do it.  But when I confronted her about it she squealed and ran away.  I couldn't find her - though I heard her whispering and giggling with Betty somewhere, in the airing-cupboard probably.  SO, once again, it falls to ME.   Grrrowl...

My partner has been (and still is) in MAJOR and extreme pain. Gisèle had a "difference of opinion" with Betty late on Thursday night, hours after everyone had gone to bed; my partner, fearing an episode of similar extremity to the previous 'affray', put herself in between the two dogs with the result that both went for her, each thinking they were going for the other. Betty managed to scratch my partner's right wrist bone whilst Giz distracted herself from biting her left hand and wrist long enough to assist Betty by severing my partner's right wrist artery. Arterial blood fountained forth everywhere, including over both dogs, but still they would not let go despite my partner's screams and pleadings.  Eventually, fangs were parted from bone and my partner's parents summoned.  Not long afterwards, my partner was taken to hospital.  The state of the house afterwards was appalling.  Splatter-stains on the walls and doors from the arterial blood (which actually pumps out in accordance with your heart rate when an artery is severed, apparently.  A little gross-but-interesting fact for you there), pillows, duvet and bed-linen soaked with my poor partner's plasma and haemoglobin, a bloody hand-print at the top of the stair bannister and more bloody prints all down the stair railing.  It looks like the horrific deeds of the Manson Family from the 1960s.

After much blood-loss and a hospital visit my partner's right arm (now mostly black and swollen like an elephant's leg) is useless and strapped into a sling - her left is slightly better off, being merely painful and in a variety of shades of purple. She has had injections and X-rays and all sorts.  Fortunately her wrist-bone was not snapped, just grazed, but my partner is unable to drive or do anything useful with her right hand and arm.  Watching her trying to dress and feed herself would be almost comical, were she not in so much pain.  She is to return to the doctor's tomorrow.

Elizabeth and Gisèle are both fine - they seem to find it hilarious to see my partner trussed up like a turkey. Little furry b*st*rds.  I have represented to them BOTH - in the strongest possible barks - my extreme displeasure in their wretched behaviour.  They appear apologetic but unbowed.  Their actions were utterly repugnant and I shall make sure they understand the full consequences of this.  They have gone too far this time.

Updates will be posted.

Yours ever,

Jasper

Sunday 5 May 2013

I was no longer concerned by the late Ewan's non-appearance; I was seriously worried.  There was still no sign of the gangly-limbed mongrel.  I know that, "up here", there are apparently no boundaries - but I felt certain that he and I would have crossed paths by now.  I confided my fears to Kipper as we strolled close to the place where we had first re-united after my passing.  He listened patiently and with consideration, but was equally unable to account for the absence, given that descent to "the other place" could be ruled out with certainty.  We had almost resolved on a direct enquiry to the man with wounded hands and feet, who we'd spotted sitting on some rocks next to the river some way off, watching the progress of some fish in the water, with a contemplative look on his face, when Kipper suddenly stopped and barked "What's that?!"

I turned to follow his gaze and was surprised to see that he was looking directly upwards to the sky.  I stared with him, but failed to notice whatever had caught his attention.
"What're you-" I began, but Kipper shushed me.  And then I heard it.  A puffing and grunting sound, soft at first but getting clearer, accompanied by muttering.  It was bizarre, although faintly comical.  We stood and listened.
"Gnnnyyrgh! Grrrufffff..." - snort - "Stupid clouds... gnyrrrfffff..." - sounds of snuffling, heaving and panting - "Grrrrnnnnggghhh... Oh! Oh no! No, no nooo!"  After frantic scrabbling sounds, the tip of a tail appeared through one of the clouds overhead. "Argh! No!"  Two hind-paws appeared through the cloud, desperately paddling in the air trying to stay atop the cloud.  "Oh no! Oh no! Noooo!"  And then, with a piercing scream and a loud whump!, Ewan fell through the cloud and landed at my feet.

"EWAN!" I yelped joyfully.  My friend staggered to his feet, shook himself, and looked up.
"Hello Jazz!" he barked, "What are you doing here?!"
"Well - er," I turned to Kipper. "This is my friend Ki-"
"You haven't seen it, have you Jasps?" interrupted Ewan
"Eh?!" I was taken aback. "Seen what exactly...?"
"That ruddy staircase." replied Ewan crossly. "I wish I'd never climbed the stupid thing now."
I exchanged a puzzled glance with Kipper, who shrugged.
"Oh, so THAT'S where you've been all this time!" I replied.
"Yes!" barked Ewan, looking all about him for his mysterious 'staircase', "And I've looked EVERYWHERE and I can't find it and now, to be honest with you Jazz, I's getting very much annoyed.  I know you has always said that I's a couple of Cheddars short of a full cheeseboard but I PROMISE I is looking for a real and proper staircase."
"Well, Ewan, perhaps if you tell us some more about the staircase and how you came by it Kipper and I can help you."
"Oh!" said Ewan, turning to look at me properly for the first time, "Is this your friend Kipper?  Hello Kipper, it is nice to meet you."
"Likewise!" barked Kipper, wagging his handsome caramel-coloured tail with its white tip.

"So - OK - the staircase." said Ewan, "Well I hadn't been feeling very well at all.  I sees your partner and she says to my mummy that 'Ewan seems quiet today' which isn't normal for me.  I has had a sore tummy, you see."
"Well, I do recall that you weren't renowned for being a quiet dog...!" I cut in, with a good-natured smile at my simple friend.
"Well yes." he responded.  "Anyway, I was OK the next day and Fizzy wasn't worried, so it was everything OK.  But two days after that I had a sore tummy again.  And I mean SORE.  I didn't want to go out of my bed - and I has never been one to linger in my bed - and I didn't want my dinner so Fizzy eated it.  Mummy saw and so she took me to the vetsdoctor.  The vetsdoctor said it was OK but I needs a little operation so they gets me ready and I has the 'jection and goes to sleep.  No problems.  Anyway, so I was sleeping and then - THEN - I sees this light, sort of a golden glow.  It looks nice and then it comes nearer and I sees this GREAT BIG staircase, all shiny and golden - like Double Gloucester is golden.  Well - no, actually.  Double Gloucester is too dark and orangey.  It was more like Cheddar, a good strong Cheddar.  Sort of.  Well... a cross between Cheddar and Leerdammer, probably... anyway... erm... what was I talking about again...?!"

"The staircase!" I yelped as, behind me, Kipper tried to master his guffaws.
"Blimey," muttered my friend, "You said he was obsessed with cheese, but..."

"Oh yes, the staircase! Right.  Brilliant.  Yes." nodded Ewan. "So I climbs it.  It was cool and smooth like metal and very steep.  It seems like I is climbing for ages.  Then I gets to the top and there is a nice big silvery shiny gate and a man there.  He is a nice man and he says 'Ewan!  What a good, GOOD boy you have been.  You have brought so much joy in your life - you are welcome to come in.' So - like a fool - I strolls right in.  Well, it is all very nice and that, but now I can't find the staircase so's I can go back down again.  I looks and looks and looks, but can I find it?  No!  I cannot.  And now I's all cross and - to be quite honest with you Jazz and Kips - very worried.  I need to find the staircase so I can go back down it to Fizzy.  Fizzy will be very frightened about where I am.  She will think I has done something silly.  Fizzy-" he explained to Kipper "-is my pretty wife.  She makes sure I am all right and doesn't do too many stupid things.  I need to go back to her now."  He sighed.  "The only good thing about all of this," he concluded "Is that my tummy isn't sore any more."

"Oh dear." muttered Kipper, as he and I exchanged a glance.  How were we going to explain this to poor Ewan?  The confused dog was looking about him all the time, trying to find his precious staircase.  As he turned, he stumbled and fell against me.  I helped him to steady himself.
"Jazzy!" barked Ewan sharply, "I can TOUCH you!  You's solid again!"  He patted me all over, hardly daring to believe himself.  "But - yes!  You's whole and solid and strong again!  You has come back to life!  It is a miracle!!  I TOLD Fizzy that you would come back properly and here you are!  She never did believe me, but now she will HAVE TO! You're ALIVE!!"

Kipper and I looked at each other again.
"This is unlikely to be pleasant." murmured Kipper, and I nodded.  At that moment, Ewan tapped Kipper firmly on the shoulder.
"Kipper!  You's alive too! Brilliant!!" cried Ewan, "But... but I thought you's dead from a bad heart years and years ago.  Jasper told me what did happen.  I - I don't understand... Why are you solid now Jazz?"

Just when all seemed most dire and it looked like I had to break the truth to my trusting friend, Ewan turned and saw the man with the wounded hands.  He still sat watching the fish in the sparkling river, deep in his thoughts.  "Oh no!" wailed Ewan, "Jazz and Kips!  Look at that poor man's hands!  They look so sore!  And - oh, that's gross! - look at the holes in his feet, that's GOT to hurt...  Stay there Kazz and Jips, I's going to see if he's all right."  Kipper and I smiled slightly at each other as Ewan hurtled over to the water's edge.

It was more than half an hour that Ewan spent chatting to the young man.  Kipper and I maintained a discreet distance - it was clear that the man was gently explaining the reality of our situation as kindly as he could to simple Ewan, softly stroking the dog's head all the while.  At one point the man put his hands into his white robes and drew out a circular wrapped package, which he gave to Ewan with a smile and a loving hug.  At length, Ewan trotted quietly back to us, clutching his package in his mouth.  As he padded over and put the package on the ground he looked at me sadly.
"You's not really solid, is you Jazz?"
"No, Ewan."
"And neither is you, Kipper, is you?"
"No, Ewan.  I'm so sorry, mate."
"And I's not at the top of a staircase, am I?"
"No, Ewan.  There is no staircase to take you back down."  I shook my head sadly.
"He's nice, that man." said Ewan, indicating the rock on which the man had been sitting, but he had gone.  "He says that I can't see Fizzy any more.  Not yet, anyway.  And Fizzy-" he broke off and stared, hard, at the grass.

"Tell you what, then," said Kipper brightly, "You'll see your lovely lady again one day!  In the meantime, how's about you hang around with us while you wait for her, eh?  We'll look after you, son.  Would you like that?"
"Oh yes!" yipped Ewan, looking up into Kipper's kind face and beaming.  "Yes please, I would like that very much indeed!"
"Fantastic." grinned Kipper. "You'll have to forgive Jasper though, he flits back and forth like some canine yo-yo.  But we forgive him, 'cause he's Jasper and we love him!"  Ewan laughed and wagged his tail.  "Now then," continued Kip, "What's in that parcel?!"
"Ohhh-hhh..." sighed Ewan, gently stroking the white muslin that wrapped the round, flattish item. "He says it's ALL for me, because I was such a good dog when I was alive."
"Crack it open then, son!"
I grinned as Ewan unwrapped the package with the utmost of tender care.  It was an entire Port Salut cheese, one of Ewan's very favourites.  Dear Ewan looked as though he could hardly believe his eyes.

He pulled off the paper and opened his mouth as wide as he could, to take a massive bite.  At the last moment (and, I might add, after he had drooled a little on the cheese) he recollected his manners and offered first bite to Kipper and myself.
"No thanks, Ewan. I'm not hungry." I grinned.
"Yeah - it's all yours, mate, you enjoy it." smiled Kipper.

Ewan savoured every single mouthful.  Later, as we three dozed happily bathed in glorious sunshine, Ewan lifted his head.
"You know boys," he sighed, "I am SO glad that I was a good boy.  I know that I always says and does stupid things, but-"

"Ewan," I cut in, grinning at my dear friend, "You were a TRUE one-off, and all the better for it.  And - unlike King James I - Ewan; you really were the wisest fool in Christendom."

Sunday 28 April 2013

"YOU'RE PLANNING A WHAT...?!?" shouted Betty, staring in disbelief at little Gisèle, who flinched at her friend's angry barks.  "ARE YOU  COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR GOURD!?!"

"No, I am not." replied Giz defiantly.  "And what is a gourd?"
"It's a - oh, never mind.  But an 'I Love Peaches Party'?  Seriously, Gizzles: Are you mental?  No, really - ARE you MENTALLY ILL?!"
"No!" repeated Gisèle, "I think it's a nice idea to have a party for Peaches."  A note of sulky defiance was beginning to creep into her voice.
"But...  but..." spluttered Elizabeth, so indignant that she was almost beyond speech, "Why?!"
"Because I think that he is very unhappy, and very lonely, and very sad - and that is really, really why he is so cross and mean and nasty all of the time!" explained Gizmo, her beautiful eyes shining with excitement.  "I think that if he had some friends he will be happy and nice."
"Then you're a bigger t*t that I thought."
"I's NOT a t*t."
"But to forgive everything that he has ever done....?!"

"I forgave you." said Gisèle quietly.

She had not barked this in an unkind or snide way, but merely to demonstrate a point - but it had a profound effect on Betty.  The Giant Schnauzer nodded, remembering how she had felt on the occasions when she had injured the little Parson Jack Russell Terrier - almost killed her during the latest "incident", for Gisèle had ceased to breathe on three occasions and been revived (twice by my partner, once by the vet) in this more serious episode - and, after the event, had been met with nothing but love, forgiveness and open arms.  Betty was duly humbled.

"AND," continued Giz, with a sly look in her eye, "Laddie has already barked that he is going to come...!"
"Oh!" exclaimed Betty, somewhat startled.  "Oh... well...  I suppose it might not be TOO bad if he'll be there..."

Gisèle giggled - but managed to tactfully disguise it as a cough.  And so the party plans begin...!


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


Still no sign of Ewan "up here".  I'll admit that this is beginning to concern me.  Someone as pure of heart and generous of spirit will not have gone to "the other place" - of that I am 100% certain.

Yet, where could he be...?

Monday 22 April 2013

This is my 400th blog post.  But I have no pleasure in writing it.  I take up my keyboard for the very worst of reasons and with the heaviest of hearts.

Our small part of the world has lost one of its greatest treasures - and is consequently a darker and less pleasing place.  One who was proud to bear the genes of Canus Canidae and did them much honour has gone.

Ewan is dead.

Yes - my dear gangly-limbed friend; selfless, warm-hearted, loving and adorably insane, Ewan, has breathed his last.

His owner and my partner noticed that he had been a little quieter than usual on Monday last week and remarked upon it, for Ewan was always very robust in health.  He seemed to get over it by the following day, however, and was still playing with his football the last time my partner saw him.

At the end of the week, alas, Ewan was noticeably quieter again and did not want to eat his supper.  He was taken to the vet the next day, where significant internal bleeding was discovered.  At first it was thought that there was some minor damage to his spleen, which could be safely repaired.  Tragically it was not to be.  When the vet commenced surgery the scale of the matter became alarmingly clear.  A massive tumour in poor, good Ewan's liver, too big and too far gone to be operated on.  The kindest decision was made - which was not to awaken him from his surgery and go on to usher him into that most eternal, peaceful, of sleeps.

I sped back to - well, you know, dear Reader, to find him - but I could not.  Only Kipper waited for me there, alongside my beloved Isolde.

I cannot describe to you, lovely Reader, the anguished wails and sobs of Ewan's bereft widow Fizzy.  They would break your heart, as surely they broke mine.  Her screams of grief, her denials - that he had only stepped away for a short while and would be back at any moment - and her pleadings: "YOU came back to bark to us Jazz, bring HIM back too!  PLEASE!"  I cannot.  I don't know why I came back.  Yet I never have, and I never will, truly return.  'Tis but a half-life, this return of mine.  Like the Resurrection Stone in the final Harry Potter books, it cannot truly restore the living; nothing can.  Only moving on to The Next Place can ultimately bring peace.  But poor Fizz-Bang's - and my own - grief is too raw for such discussions.  I, who have always been able to find something to bark on any occasion, find that I am empty on this occasion.  My barks are spent - there is nothing I can say to assuage her grief.

Jasper Horatio Stafford finds that there are not words enough.

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

Ewan's body was laid to rest in a peaceful area of a quiet, protected, woodland.

He sleeps now in eternal peace, in the shade of a vast, mighty ancient Beech tree.  Birds sing in the branches above him, a bank of Primroses blossom beside him, and before him lies a beautiful outlook onto verdant pasture and rolling hills beyond.

So please, after you have read this, I urge you to fill your glass with a favourite drink, raise it up, and send out a toast to Ewan - wherever his spirit roams.  Frustrating, funny, foolish - and Friend.

Ewan on my patio, whilst his beloved Fizzy watches on,
when they visited my home for a weekend-stay last summer.

He truly was the greatest of dogs.

Sunday 14 April 2013

Well, it has been a week since "the attack" and Gisèle, I am happy to bark, is making an excellent recovery.  She and Betty are the greatest of friends once more (though this is more due to Gisèle's unequalled capacity for forgiveness and Betty's guilty conscience than anything else).  Giz still has a few days' worth of medication to take, but she's back to her normal levels of energy and mischief.  Betty's conscience is obviously still pricking her, as she pads very carefully around Giz.  Yesterday, Gisèle attempted to engage Betty in a play-fight.  Betty was pleased to comply - until Giz happened to turn her head, exposing her scarred and shaved neck.  The Giant Schnauzer gulped audibly and stared down at the pink and scabbed neck of her little friend with a stricken expression.  Muttering to herself, Betty backed off from Gisèle and took herself off to sit quietly in another room.  Poor Giz was left looking bewildered; my partner gave her a hug and then the both of them a chew each, but Betty couldn't be persuaded to resume the play-fight.

And, with that, I must conclude this little update.  Gisèle has made it clear that she does not wish the unfortunate episode to be discussed any further, for the sake of Betty's feelings.  I can't say that I share Gisèle's empathy.  If I had been the one that had been savaged, then Betty would now be awaiting the return of her owner in boarding kennels, never to return.  But Giz is now the alpha-dog in this household; it is therefore her decision and not mine - and Giz loves Betty and therefore Betty stays.  So: enough.

The weather is very changeable at the moment; summer seems reluctant to arrive.  My partner has bought lots of seeds for the garden, but has not yet planted them.  The reason for this is that Betty and Gisèle have found themselves an exciting new entertainment: digging.  My partner is keen to get her garden seeded, in order to have borders full of fragrant blooms in the late summer and early autumn, but clearly sees the futility of planting-up, only to have everything turned up immediately afterwards by a pair of giggling furry clowns.

In the absence of home-based mischief, therefore, Betty and Gisèle have been content to sit on the patio, enjoying the surroundings and the warmer weather.  And thus it was yesterday, with Giz pottering around the borders in the garden whilst Betty dozed on the sofa, when the wretched scion of evil that is Peaches the cat sauntered past on the lookout, as always, for trouble.
"Alright, bum-fluff?" he sneered at Gisèle.
"That is not my name. My name is Gisèle." she replied.  Peaches merely sniffed disdainfully.
"That great fat grey old sow staying with you at the moment?" he continued.  As Giz opened her snout to reply Betty, with most unfortunate timing, wandered into the garden through the French Windows.  "Ay-aye; The Kraken wakes..." he muttered.  Betty simply glared at him and sat down as far away from him as she could muster within the garden, having long-ago concluded that any breath spent on Peaches was breath and effort wasted.
"Betty is not fat." Gisèle persisted.  "She is a very big dog with lots of thick curly fur, but she is actually quite slender under her coat."
"Alright hippo-hips?" hailed Peaches, ignoring Giz completely.  As the little Jack Russell Terrier turned around to look back and roll her eyes at Betty, still sat at the back of the garden, Peaches noticed the still horrific-looking wounds in her slender little neck.  "**** me, who did that to you?!" mewed Peaches.
"None of your business!" yipped Giz, not looking at the wretched black cat, as Betty shifted uncomfortably on her patio slab.  Peaches, not being one to let a sudden uncomfortable tension in the air pass him by, looked slowly from Gisèle to Betty and back again, a malevolent smile forming on his leering face.

"She did it to you, didn't she?!" meowed Peaches, unable to suppress the malicious glee from his voice. "So she's not as stupid as she looks!  Well, well, well...  I'm getting a new sense of respect for you, lardy... What happened?  Did the little rat try and sneak a bite of your 87th pie of the day?!"
"Oh, p*ss off." grunted Betty, shaking her head.  Peaches laughed.
"What I can't understand though," he went on, cackling to himself, "Is why you didn't go the whole hog and finish the job?  I mean, obviously there's no meat on the rat, but the satisfaction of killing the annoying little tick would've more than made up for it..."

Peaches grew suddenly tense.  "Better luck next time, tubby!" he called to Betty as he sprang over the fence to the river and hastened towards the allotments.  We couldn't account for his rapid departure until we heard the click of claws on pavement from the opposite direction and turned to see Laddie, the Cockney market-trader's dog from the far cul-de-sac, trotting up.  Back along the road behind him, we could see his owner washing his small van.
"Little git." muttered Laddie, watching the last glimpse of Peaches' tail disappearing amongst the compost bins on the allotments.  He then turned to the girls "'Ullo treacles!" he grinned.  Laddie was very sweet on Betty, who didn't seem to return his affections quite as passionately.  "How yer doin', duchess?!  That little claw-rag bothering you?"
"I wouldn't waste my time and effort on being disturbed by that ghastly little insect."  replied Betty with a sigh, coming over to greet Laddie politely.
"Laddie, Peaches was REALLY rude to Betty." piped up Giz, "He said some very mean and nasty things to her."
"Did he now?" frowned Laddie, "Don't you worry darlin', I'll give that little scrote more than nasty words if I catch hold of him."

As Gisèle beamed up at the charming Laddie he couldn't help but notice, as Peaches had done before him, the significant scarring on Giz's neck. "Bl**din' Chr*st, gal, who did that to you?!" he exclaimed, forgetting his manners.  Recollecting himself, he muttered an apology for his language although he still looked with a stunned expression at Gisèle's wounds.  Giz looked uncomfortable and Betty positively squirmed.
"Erm... I can't remember..." mumbled Giz.
"Blimey, you can't remember?!  You're lucky you wasn't killed, princess - they're close to all the important veins in yer neck, them wounds!  How'd you survive that?!"
"Erm...well it sort of happened quite suddenly..."
"Must've been a big b*gg*r, the size of them teeth-marks!"  He turned his attention to Betty.  "What about you, duchess?  They didn't go for you as well, did they?"  Betty mumbled something indistinct.  "How come you weren't able to defend the little 'un?!"
"I think Betty was a bit busy at the time." yipped Gisèle, eager to avoid embarrassing Elizabeth.  "But it's OK, I'm all right.  It doesn't hurt any more and it looks loads worse than it is!"
"Blimey." muttered Laddie again, shaking his head and sighing as he looked at Gisèle's neck again.  "Well, you were d*mn lucky, that's all I can bark.  D*mn lucky.  You look after yourself, treacle - you're too sweet to get snuffed out by some dirty ol' thug."
"Excuse me..." mumbled Betty as she stood up and crept guiltily back into the house.

"She all right?"asked Laddie, watching her go with regret.
"Oh yes!" replied Giz, "I think she's just a bit tired today, that's all.  Listen, Laddie, I've got a plan for Peaches - d'you want to hear it?!"
"Do I want to hear it?! Oh yes, anything to sort out that rotten stinking apple!"
"Well," began Gisèle, "I think that Peaches must be very, very unhappy deep down inside himself.  He's so mean to everyone and I've never seen him with any friends-"
"He don't deserve no friends."
"No, but everyone should have friends!  Peaches must be so lonely.  Maybe that's why he is always so mean?  I think that I would like to be friends with Peaches and then he wouldn't be always so very angry and horrible to everyone.  So I have decided.  I am going to have a big party called "I Love Peaches Day" and lots of people can come and make friends with Peaches and then he won't be so miserable."

I have to confess that I was stunned.  Laddie seemed similarly affected as, when Gisèle looked up at him after she'd finished chattering, he was gaping down at her with his mouth hanging open.
"What d'you reckon?!" she grinned, wagging her tail.
"I reckon you're a couple o' plums short of a full fruit salad." muttered Laddie in disbelief.

But Gisèle was not to be deterred.
"You'll come to the party, though, Laddie, won't you?" she asked, fixing her lovely brown eyes on him beseechingly.
"No way!" he barked, shaking his head firmly, "I'd sooner roast me own 'nads off than go to anything involving that evil creature!"
"Betty will be there..." added Giz, with a sly smile.
"I'll bring some snacks." retorted Laddie without missing a beat, which caused me to burst out laughing.  "Little pies, sausages, dips, y'know.  An' I'll see if I can get some of me girls to come along..." (by this, Laddie meant his increasing fan-club of female feline groupies, who followed him around and hung on his every word with slavish devotion).
"Yayyy!  Brilliant!"  cheered Gisèle, going on to explain in further detail her plans for her "I Love Peaches Day" and how making friends with him would lead to lasting happiness and peace for all...

You may call me cynical, dear reader, but I cannot see any good coming from Gisèle's scheme.  In fact, I suspect things may go very badly wrong...

Until next time, then...