Saturday, 27 July 2013

Saturday 27 July 2013

It has been such a momentous week.  Unrest continues in Egypt and Syria.  An appalling train crash in Spain.  My heart aches for such sorrows.  And the safe birth of a future King of England and the Commonwealth.  Isn't it so strange how the fates of the world turn so rapidly and on the finest of threads - like a small leaf caught up in an old and unused spider's web; hanging but unable to detach itself, able only to be blown about and buffeted in the weathers.

And here, we are hanging on also.  It has been a challenging week for my partner, Gisèle and Betty in financial terms.  On three days this week, my partner has gone without food so that Gisèle could eat (Betty's food is supplied by her owners).  Allow me now to assure you, dear reader, that if you have ever felt "a bit peckish" then it is NOTHING as compare to how it feels when your entire food intake over three whole days has consisted solely of:

  • four pieces of bread thinly spread with butter-substitute;
  • six spoonfuls of malted-wheat cereal with semi-skimmed milk and a dash of sugar;
  • a reduced-price, out-of-date potato salad;
  • a small bowl of cooked hot pasta with a dab of butter-substitute and some salt and pepper.
These are, indeed, the worst times for us personally since THIS; that wretched day.  No wonder my partner and sweet Giz had no option but to recourse to one of those ghastly payday-loans in order to be able to afford mere petrol (for LGC-II), electricity (for the house) and food (for Gisèle mostly, although Elizabeth has been discreetly 'understanding' about her own meals - but no-one is supposed to have noticed this, so I'll not mention it - except to you, dear reader).  The fall-out from this is yet to come; but at least it will be faced with full bellies.

And, if you have ever seen any creature - human, canine or otherwise - in ACTUAL tears because they are so hungry - I hope that you will understand.

But we all - Giz, my partner, and I (whilst I remain, hovering and unseen, until the fulfilment of the promise I made to my partner - not unconnected with  THIS; that wretched day, in the background - and encouraging the reluctant Gisèle to take her place in the limelight - are THANKFUL.

Yes, we are.  Still, despite all this, thankful.

We have friends - you, hopefully, among them dear reader.  Friends are the greatest blessing of all.  We adore and cherish even those who do not (and they DO exist, as incomprehensible as that may be, whether you believe it or not...) visit this blog.  I know - a travesty...  But we must allow them their little foibles and love them as they are...

We have our lives.  We have a family who loves us.  We have many - SO MANY - blessings denied to others around the world.

And so I ask you now to look back upon this past week with me.  And be thankful and happy in what you DO have; as opposed to grieving, wailing or storming over the small luxuries you don't have.

Sanctimonious - you may think.  Yes; you're right.  And I'm dead - so I'm bl**dy-well allowed to be.

So, now you've read this, step away from the computer/tablet/iPhone/book/Kindle/whatever and look around.  Brilliant, isn't it?  It's your's (unless, of course, you've nicked it - in which case I hope you get a good price for your dog-based contraband).  Oh yes.  We are very lucky indeed.

Further developments to follow...

Sunday, 21 July 2013

Saturday 20 July 2013

At last!

As you might have guessed from the the length of time 'twixt the last post and this one I have had trouble settling young Gisèle down for long enough to get her to share some of her recent experiences.  On several occasions my partner opened up a new entry for Giz to write something, but the minxy little terrier wouldn't sit still long enough to compose anything even remotely coherent.  To cut a long story short, she has been enjoying the light summer evenings.

The excessive heatwave we are currently enduring here in England has driven her inside, however, and I have encouraged her to spend at least a part of this time in a productive manner.  But it really has been overwhelmingly humid - and with no end yet in sight.  We are not yet subject to a hosepipe ban, but such a step is already being spoken of.  It is too hot even to maintain the garden beyond watering it at night - although I have to say that our small estate is looking particularly fine.  Our roses have never looked better and - for the first time since it was planted when my partner and I moved here in early 2009 - our honeysuckle is in full bloom.  It is exquisite, both in sight and scent, and it is alive with grateful bees and butterflies.  Such a pity that I was never able to enjoy it thus in life.  Gisèle, however, (and Betty, for she has rejoined the household for a few months after a lengthy absence) is appreciating it to the full and her pleasure in it is therefore my own.

One of the longer barks I have had of late with little Giz has concerned Fizzy, the black Labrador belonging to one of my partner's colleagues.  Fizzy's grief for her beloved basket-mate (and one of my best friends during my life) Ewan has remained all-pervading.  Giz has been doing her best to cheer Fizzy, and the poor canine widow was even taken on a short canoeing holiday recently, which raised her spirits a little, but the sudden and unexpected death of Ewan has struck poor Fizzy with great and cruel force.
"Doesn't she even want to play with any of her toys with you?" I asked the other evening, whilst my partner watered our garden.
"No,"  replied Giz sadly, with a sigh.  "I try - but she only ever wanders down to bridleway with me for a bit, goes to the toilet and then wanders back.  All she ever wants to do is to sit close to where they put Ewan's body in the ground and talk to him like he was there."
I sighed and shook my head.
"That's weird though, isn't it Jazz?" continued Gisèle. "Don't you think that's weird?  Sitting and talking to a dog who is dead.  Isn't that weird?"
"I think you might be asking the wrong person here, Giz..." I replied, with a sad little smile.
"What?  Oh.  Oh yeah... hehe." Her 'giggle' was mirthless and half-hearted.  "But Fizzy's a bit annoyed about you, anyway."
"Me?!" I spluttered, "What did I do?!"
"She doesn't understand why you comes back to visit me and Betty and Mistress and why Ewan doesn't come back to see her.  I don't understands either.  But she sometimes and all the times asks me why Ewan doesn't come to see her."
I sighed heavily again.
"Well - I'm not sure I can explain it either." I muttered. "But I can try.  Ewan lived for a good many years.  He lived out a full life expectancy and was very, very happy each and every day of his allotted time.  He was nuttier than the menu in a restaurant for squirrels - but he was truly the happiest of dogs.  When I lost my life it was too soon.  I wasn't ready to go - and, vitally, I had made a promise to the most important person in my life; one which I have yet to keep.  I cannot leave until that vow is fulfilled.  That is all I can suggest.  But I hope that dearest Fizz-Bang knows that Ewan is at peace where his soul now resides.  I have seen him.  He is happy.  He would, if he had the choice, return to his beloved Fizzy and his human family in an instant.  But he is in a good place.  His purity and goodness of spirit during his lifetime has brought him the rewards of eternal repose in a place where only love, tolerance and peace abound.  And Fizzy WILL have her reunion with him.  But only when the time allotted to her on this mortal Earth comes to an end."

After this speech (which was lengthier and, probably, far more sanctimonious than I'd intended), there was a silence.  Gisèle wiped away the beginnings of a tear.
"I understand." she whispered.  "I shall tell her - and she will understand too.  As long as she knows that Ewan still loves her..."
"Oh, he does."  I nodded, "Just because a loved one has passed away - and we can't see them just now - it doesn't mean that they EVER stop loving us."
"Thank you."

"Now then!" I barked, brightly, ushering in a change of topic before everything became too overwhelmingly maudlin.  "I understand that the New Teal Megane, with its accursed and bedevilled windows, has been replaced...?"

To be continued...