The poor girl was HUGELY confused when my partner first opened the front door to reveal around 4" blanketing the ground, with the flakes still heavily falling. She showed an extreme reluctance to set even a single dainty paw in it. Pea-brained dog Ewan - of all people - had previously explained the concept of snow to Gisèle and had done a fairly respectable (for him) job. However, he had neglected to point out that snow sometimes accumulates on the ground and covers all in sight with icy whiteness. Giz had therefore, not unreasonably, assumed that snow was like rain and disappeared into the earth as it fell. A few stray flakes had drifted down on one day during Betty's most recent visit. Little Gisèle hid behind Betty and when the urge to download a wee-mail became overwhelming, she clung like a barnacle to Betty's side in the garden - so much so that some of her Giz-water flowed onto a paw of the most-unamused Betty. Gisèle had to apologise properly whilst Betty's paw was washed.
But that was just a few flakes - the sight upon which we opened our curtains this past Friday was altogether different.
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| Gisèle pottered out to my little memorial in the garden, to make sure it was OK, but would not linger long enough to be photographed... About thirty minutes later the little cross was entirely covered by snow. |
After some careful observation from the safety of her favourite armchair, however, Giz decided that she would take a chance on the cold white stuff and from then on there was no stopping her! She leaped about like a puppy, laughing and squealing with delight all the time. She enjoyed every moment, from the first step out of the door to the end of being dried with her towel back at home. I think she's actually rather disappointed that it has started to melt! Here is a picture from earlier today, of little Gisèle playing in the park - the one where I used to play myself with Candy and Harvey - with her favourite boyfriend, Boris (sorry the image is so tiny - this is how my partner received it from Boris's partner):
Gisèle has only been with my partner for some eight months, but already she has accumulated quite a collection of boyfriends. Locally, she has Benjy (the Cinnamon Trust dog), Boris, Milo, William, Laddie (who prefers Betty), Archie, Bertie the Westie (that one's a sensitive subject, as Rosie is sweet on Bertie as well. Actually, come to bark of it, Rosie likes Benjy as well... Giz had better watch her step...); united with these are an unnamed dog, often seen with his owner about the town. We don't know the dog's name, but he's always sporting a jaunty neckerchief which makes him look rather handsome. Giz also described an older Staffordshire Bull Terrier, with caramel-coloured fur. I had my suspicions, and when Giz said that he often had a football with him I knew for sure - this was my old friend Harvey! I was interested to hear that he was still trundling on - very capably, according to Gizmo, although he was very hard of hearing these days. Good old Harvey.
But I am digressing far from my intended point - the snow tends to have that effect upon one. I meant, of course, to write about the continuing cheeky mischief with which Betty and Gisèle tormented my partner's poor father a week ago.
My partner and her mother had gone shopping, leaving our two heroines in the care of the afore-mentioned gentleman. My partner was first to return into the house, whilst her mother was putting the car away. It was immediately clear that misdeeds had been rife throughout the morning. Cushions and furniture throws lay scattered around the room; one, at least, of the girls had been up and dancing on the dining room table and my partner's father was wearing a somewhat defeated expression on his face. The true villainy of Elizabeth and Gisèle, for this was but the half of it, was soon explained.
Betty is some years older than Gisèle and, obviously, on a much larger scale. She therefore tires long before Gisèle has even started to warm-up. Inevitably, Betty flopped down onto her side and fell fast asleep after a couple of hours of chaotic roistering, the proof of which could be seen as I have described. I have no idea what malevolent spirit possessed sweet Gizmo at this point, but her nefarious plan was swiftly formed and executed. My partner's father attempted to explain away his lack of adequate supervision by saying that he was engrossed in reading his book. He seemed to have witnessed enough, however, to be able to relate what took place, and it is from him that I have these details.
Gisèle's beady little eyes ranged over the soundly-sleeping Betty and the inattentive "responsible adult", before alighting on my partner's mother's knitting. Seizing both the opportunity and the knitting, she carried it quietly over to the snoring Betty and tip-clawed silently around her friend's insensible paws, securely tying up all four legs. The bindings secure, Gisèle then crept around to the unfortunate Betty's head and screamed "Wooooooof!!!" at top volume, directly into the Giant Schnauzer's ear. Betty instantly leapt up in startled alarm - only to instantly topple back onto her side, struggling violently, unable to stand on her tied-up legs.
My partner's father ultimately had to cut Betty's arms and legs free from the knitting, the twisted and bound wool proving too tangled to be unwound as, all the while, Gisèle laughed, jumped, danced and delightedly squealed around her "captive" in high glee.
"COME HERE!!!" bellowed the enraged Betty, staggering to her feet as soon as she had been cut free and taking off after her tiny Jack Russell tormentor - but Gisèle was too quick for her and was long-gone into the garden. The entire rest of the morning was spent in Betty endeavouring - and failing - to catch the giggling Gisèle. Of course, Betty wasn't REALLY angry, they were both of them laughing. But my partner's mother wasn't laughing when presented with the ruined knitting and the broken knitting-needles, which had snapped when Betty took off after Giz. My partner's father had to explain why he hadn't supervised the girls properly and why he hadn't put the knitting out of the reach of naughty fangs and paws...
All whilst the post-mortem of their wickedness was being carried out, Gisèle and Betty kept shoving each other forwards in the direction of my partner, each of them seeking to apportion the chief of the blame on the other and protest their own pure-hearted innocence. My partner remained unconvinced, despite their best efforts, and told them that "they were each as guilty as the other." The true miscreant unmasked herself fairly quickly, however. When my partner's mother picked up her ruined knitting, little Giz couldn't keep herself from dashing over, seizing the other end of the wool, and attempting to engage her in a knitting tug-of-war... At that point my partner judged it prudent to take the girls and return home.
For the whole of the short journey home, my partner lectured the two girls of the wickedness of their actions. Betty and Gisèle pretended to look remorseful, but I remained undeceived. I could hear them nudging each other and quietly giggling on the back seat of the car. Cheeky things.
