Tuesday 15 January 2013

A very good evening to you!  Your regular host here again.  I have been impressing upon Gisèle the importance of her continuing to write her blog entries, and my perfect willingness to assist her with spellings and grammar - but she has been fully preoccupied in recent days, as Betty is staying with us again.

I am at a loss as to how precisely to account for it, but there seems to be an inordinate amount of devilment in the air betwixt these two pretty friends on this particular visit.  Whether it is down to a premonition of the snow-showers due to arrive shortly, post-Christmas high-spirits, or one of them is shortly to come into season (if so, please let it be Betty and not Giz), I cannot say - but there was most certainly a vast deal more monkey-business between the two girls this time around.

I'll admit that I should have spotted the warning signs during the first weekend of Betty's stay.  Though still cold, the sun shone and my partner took the opportunity to dry her washing outside and to tidy up the garden a little.  These tasks accomplished, Betty and Giz opted to remain in the garden.

"Giz!  Giz!  Come over here for a second!" hissed Betty, her eyes twinkling, as she moved to the fence at the end of the garden and positioned herself behind a large bush.  "Giz!  Gizzy! Giz!  Come here!"
"What?!" asked Gisèle, tearing her attention away from the tiny crocus shoots just beginning to peep through the earth and trotting over to Betty.
"Shhh!  I want to try something!  Go and hide behind that little bush there, so that no-one can see you on the path on the other side of the river!  Go on!"
"But why-" began Giz, but Betty shooed her over to the bush a metre or so away and told her to stay put.  After standing there for a few minutes, Gizmo began to bark questions again.  At this point, a very small boy, well-guarded against the cold, pedalled along the path on a brand-new little tricycle - clearly a much-treasured Christmas gift.  His parents and their dog - a border collie I didn't recognise - were a little way back down the path.
"Watch this..." whispered Betty.  Taking care that she was fully concealed behind her foliage, Betty raised her snout and bellowed "WOOF!" at the top of her considerable voice.  The toddler skidded to a halt on his trike - fortunately he did not fall off - and looked all about him in considerable surprise and alarm as Betty and Giz giggled helplessly.  The border collie instantly ran up to his little human chum and shouted angrily
"Who's there?!  Who did that?!".  He jumped almost out of his fur as the unseen Betty's mighty bark sounded again.
"Show yourself!" demanded the angry collie, at which point Gisèle, from her hiding place, gave a shrill and - frankly, quite terrifying - shrieking bark.  Both bitches collapsed in hysterics as the collie leapt back about three feet and flattened himself on the ground, his tail and ears well back.
"Come out here NOW!" he roared, "I'll teach you how funny it is to hide somewhere and shout at people!  Come out!  I know you're there; I can hear you laughing!"

The two girls stayed well-hidden, despite the enraged dog's shouts, and cackled on like a couple of biddy-hens.  The dog and the child were chivvied on their way by the adults.  "Don't let me catch you two clowns doing this again!" was the collie's parting shot in the general direction of the garden, which served only to elicit fresh peals of saucy laughter.

The "prank" was repeated several times that morning - with effects less amusing to the miscreants (both old enough to know better) than the instance described above, but still causing them to fall about laughing.  Betty was all set for continuing for the rest of that Saturday, but Gisèle got a tummy-ache from laughing too much and had to go indoors to lie down and Betty quickly grew bored without her little accomplice.

But if you think THAT was bad - think again.  It was as nothing to the stunt Gisèle pulled on the most recent Saturday - a mere three days ago.  Betty has has a very positive influence on Gisèle in the way that the little Parson Jack Russell has increased in confidence and an eagerness to play with other, larger, dogs regardless of size.  Equally, Giz has taught Betty the precious value of true friendship and that plenty of fun can be had with play fights, with no resulting loss of status or the need to descend into actual violence.  Such lessons have proved to be a rich and fertile soil in which the seeds of mischief can flourish....

And yet - to view the image below - you would imagine that none could be sweeter or more pure than these two fair angels...

Dear, oh dear,,,

Sunday 6 January 2013

Hello!  It is Gisèle here!  I hope that you all had a very nice Christmas and is a happy new years!

Jasper isn't here.  I don't know where he is gone, but he is gone just for now.  I hope you are well. I am well too and I am being a very good girl.

I have a VERY nice Christmas, thank you.  I even got some presents all to myself and I have never had ANY presents before.  I got a pretty felt pillow in pastel colours with a rose on top that squeaks when you chew it from my friend Rosie (in the house next door.  I gives her a present of a chewy shoe that she likes.), and my favourite present of all which is a big red rubber Christmas cracker (it is a toy, not a real cracker) from Mistress's brother and sister and their children.  I took out the squeak from it because it was annoying me but I love it lots and play with it all the time.  I like Christmas.  I think I will have it again.

But we isn't always happy. No.  Because, yesterday it was one WHOLE year ago that my friend Jasper die. Mistress is very very very sad and she cries a lot yesterday.  At nearly lunchtime her mama and papa come to see us because our fridge and freezer is broke and they was going to help move it but we couldn't move it.  Afterwards they all cry (not because of the fridge and freezer) and then they go into the garden to bury something right by Jasper's holly tree and put a little wood cross there.  And then they cry again.  I went and hide upstairs because they are sad and I never meet Jasper (actually, I DID meet him once when he was alive.  I forgot but remembered.  He said that I was pretty and a good little girl but then my old Master took me away and I never saw him again until after he was died).  But after a minute Mistress call me and so I came down and she gave me a big cuddle.  She says that she is frightened that if she loves me then I will get cancer and die too soon like all the others.  I says back that I is never going to get cancer but Mistress papa says that no-one can tell what is going to happen in the future.  Well, I says, I is here now and I loves my Mistress and my friends and that is the best I can do just now.  Then we all has a big hug around Jasper's holly tree.

I am so happy here, I cannot tell you how much.  No-one hurts me or makes me live in a cage or kicks me or makes me go down holes in the ground and kill until I has killed everything.  I didn't like that.  I like chasing and since I has been with Mistress I likes to chase squirrels and all sorts and I has so far killed a shrew a pigeon and a rabbit that was bigger than me.  But I has chosen these things and was not kicked and punched to make me do it.  Oh yes, I is so very, very, VERY happy now.

Jasper is come back sometimes.  He keeps trying to make me say what is in the pretty wooden box with his name on.  I knows, I has seen.  Mistress showed me one day.  But he will not know.  I will never ever tell him.  So - SHHH! - please don't you tell him either.  It will make him upset and I don't want that.

My bestest friend (I mean dog friend, because my best friend ever is Mistress) Betty is coming to stay for some days on Thursday.  I am going to share my presents with her.  We didn't used to be friends because she was mean to me but Jasper helped and now she is my best dog friend in the whole world ever.  My next best friends are Rosie, then Ewan, then Fizzee, then Milo and then some others but I has have forgotten their names.  I have some dog boyfriends too.  Lots, but Mistress never lets them do anything down there, what a pity, hihihi....

I am sorry my writing is not so good.  It is getting better than it was but I still is needing help from Jasper.  He is coming back soon but I think he has gone back to see his friend Kipper.  I is sorry that it has been a whole year that he has died.  I like him.  But I am glad that I live here now where it is warm and safe and people are nice to me.

Love from Gisèle xxx

Monday 31 December 2012

"And DON'T think I haven't spotted what you're up to, young lady...!"  I barked in stentorian tones of mock severity.

"What?!?" yipped Gisèle, caught on the computer chair for all the world to see, as though her soft but guilty paws were captured, mid-thievery, in the sweetie-tin.  Her tail was wagging wildly, as if to distract attention from her computer-based antics.

"You've been changing my, er, your, well, our blog PINK!"
"I have NOT!" squeaked Giz, most indignantly.
"Gisèle!  I can see it!"
"Oh! Erm - well, in that case, yes then."

I laughed, shaking my head.  It has pleased me no end to see how well little Giz has settled into the house.  She has even got a favourite chair (by a bizarre coincidence it was my own favourite chair), in which she stores her most precious treasures: a half-chewed treat; a rubber Christmas cracker she received as a gift; a toy given to her by Rosie next door; and an old cheese wrapper which she thinks my partner doesn't know about.

How strange it came to pass this way.  My partner vowed never to get another dog after my death.  Entirely by random coincidence and accident did Gisèle find herself forced to take up residence here - and so happy for both her and my partner that the fates fell this way.  Truly a better, more easy-going, and cheerful dog one could not hope to meet.

"Shall I change all the pink back to blue, Jazz?" queried Giz.  I smiled at her.

"No Gisèle, it's perfect." I smiled.  "Don't you change a thing."

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Thursday 27 December 2012

Well.  It was a wretched beginning to the year - and the ending is somewhat less than perfect.

A week or so prior to the Christmas festival my partner and Gisèle, whilst travelling home from work, happened upon an unfortunate road incident.  They were, in fact, the first car upon the scene which was not damaged or otherwise directly involved (despite witnessing) the alarming episode.

Getting out of the New Teal Megane and locking Gisèle safely inside, my partner went to see if she could assist.  Almost the first thing she heard was someone calling for anyone with a knowledge of First Aid.  Being a qualified First-Aider, my partner identified herself as such and was immediately directed to the vehicle which had caused the incident, a large (and thankfully empty) tipper-truck.  Another bystander was already telephoning on his mobile for an ambulance and it was immediately apparent that the driver of the truck was very unwell indeed.  He was unconscious and slumped over the seats.

My partner ensured his airways were clear, manoeuvred, with assistance, the man into the best approximation of the recovery position that was physically possible and took his pulse, which was warm and strong, all the while attempting to rouse the stricken gentleman by shouting such things as "Can you hear me?!"; "Can you tell me your name Sir?!"; "It's OK, you're going to be all right now..."  The 999-dispatcher kept asking the caller infantile, repetitive and unhelpful things.  Even when my partner informed the dispatcher c/o the young man on the 'phone that the unwell victim "appeared to be dying and that an ambulance was needed now" the response was indifferent at best.  Ultimately, all my partner could do for the poor man was to hold his hand until the ambulance came.

Sadly, the gentleman died.  My partner and Gisèle then had to remain at the scene on the freezing-cold night for almost four hours, whilst the Police photographed the scene and interviewed the 'participants'.  My partner was greatly distressed and little Gisèle was utterly terrified.  Both were terribly cold besides, and my partner was, and is, so sad that she couldn't save the driver.  It has had a rather profound effect upon her, to be truthful. What she ultimately drew from the experience is this: NEVER make any journey – even if it is just to the supermarket for a pint of milk – without telling your partner/family (if you have them) that you love them. For you never know the time or the place. I’ll admit that the experience was made more challenging by the fact that the late gentleman’s wife wanted to speak with my partner, as she’d been with him until – well, you know… I think it was helpful for the poor bereaved lady… But PLEASE, never part or go to sleep without telling those you love that you love them.

Alas, now, my partner is besieged on all sides by constant reviews of the "wonderful" and "historic" year that was 2012.  The centenary of the Titanic and sundry commemorations, the Queen's Diamond Jubilee, Bradley Wiggins' triumph in the Tour de France, the Olympics and Paralympics and the British Teams' triumphs, the introduction and periodic visits of Betty, the arrival of sweet Gisèle... the list goes on...  But did my partner have a good year...?  No.

Oh no.

For 2012 was the year in which Jasper Horatio Stafford died.

Saturday 22 December 2012

As I had hoped, Elizabeth proved to be just the very salvation needed by Gisèle.  They spent a long time chatting and hugging on the sofa, in the manner shown in the previous post's photograph.

At length, I rejoined them.
"D'you know what I REALLY think you need, Giz?" said Betty, after a long silence.
"Hmm?" responded the little terrier.
"I'll tell you.  You need.... a FIIIIIIIGHT!"  And, with that, Betty shoved Gizmo off the sofa and jumped down on top of her.  The two girls snarled and bit at each other - all in fun of course - and chased each other up and down the stairs, yapping and squealing all the while.

And then I heard something which I'd almost given up hope of ever hearing again.
"Hiihiihiihihihihihihihihi...."

Once irritating, the sound of Gisèle's laughter was now truly delightful to my ear.  I smiled at the squeals of delight emanating from the two friends and stole a glance at my partner, who was wiping a happy tear from her eye at the reanimation of the inestimable Gizzy.  Up and down the stairs raced our two girls - squealing, laughing and play-nipping at each other.  My partner and I were just careful to keep out of the way as they crashed past us, out into the garden and around our small plot, then up the stairs to jump up and down on the bed (heedless of any effect on the mattress-springs or bed-linen).  This continued until almost midnight, but my partner was loath to put a stop to the girls' amusement due to the long-absent delight of little Gisèle.

When the shenanigans recommenced at 3.10 the following morning, my partner's patience began to wear thin. The play-fighting and noisy, boisterous games continued throughout that day - and the next day - AND the one after that; each time beginning before the winter sun had fully risen in the morning and lasting until long after most normal folk had retired to bed.  As for me, I'll admit that I'd had enough after about ten minutes on the first day - and my partner's smile had, by now, become decidedly fixed.  To be honest, it was more of a grimace.

On the fourth night, the bedroom door was firmly closed on the capering bitches.  I heard the (admittedly mildly satisfying) sound of two heads, one tiny and one large, smacking into the wooden door followed by the (less satisfying) outbreak of fresh giggling - and settled down at last to a full nights' sleep as the pair of miscreants trotted back downstairs, prodding each other and snickering as they descended.  My partner was already fast asleep...

These events took place over a week ago (I have been somewhat remiss in updating the blog for unfortunate reasons, which will soon become clear).  But, with the selective benefit of hindsight, I am very thankful indeed for the short visit of Betty.  She pulled Gisèle from the abyss of her despair.

The healing powers of the simple love and company of friends ought never to be underestimated.

Saturday 15 December 2012

A stop-press on the post I was part-way through writing.

The hearts of Gisèle, my partner and myself are broken, and united with our friends in America today following the appalling and mindless slaughter at Sandy Hook Primary School in Connecticut.

The stolen lives of the innocent babes and those who loved and cared for them reduces me to disbelieving incomprehension.  There are no words - no barks - of balm that I can offer.  Our love and prayers are with you.

The massacre of the innocents will never be forgotten by anyone in the right-thinking world.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,

Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Funeral Blues, by W.H. Auden

Monday 10 December 2012

Betty, true to form, arrived a little later than anticipated - although on the same evening she was expected.  She steam-rollered into Giz-Town all guns blazing, ready to have plenty of fun with her very best friend and to play nurse-maid to Gisèle's suckling puppies.

After standing on her hind-legs and warmly embracing my partner in the hall, Betty suddenly remembered the situation in which she had left her little friend Gizmo and bounded into the living room.
"Where are they?!" she yapped, her small stub of a tail wagging wildly.  "All my new little darlings?!  Whooooooo's got the BIGGEST kiss for their Auntie Betty?!?"

The Giant Schnauzer skidded to an abrupt halt at the alarming scene which met her eyes.  NOT a cacophonous melèe of innocent unweaned squalling newborns - just Gisèle alone on the sofa, clutching her teddy-bear tightly and staring blankly out of the window, rocking most unsettlingly backwards and forwards.

"What - where - wh..." stammered Betty uncertainly.  Giz didn't seem to hear her.
"Elizabeth," I murmured to her, "Would you join me in the lobby for a moment, if you please?"
Betty, her eyes still fixed with concern on her little friend, barklessly nodded and followed me out into the small hallway.

As quietly and sensitively as I could I appraised Betty of the situation.  She stared at me for a couple of seconds whilst her mind processed the sad news (Betty was by no means simple, but she was not the sharpest blade on the razor, if you catch my meaning).  When I looked into her face again, the mighty dog seemed to struggling to hold back her tears.

At that point my partner went into the kitchen and began preparing the girls' dinners.  With a sigh I told Betty about Gisèle's medicine-induced anorexia symptoms, and that it had now been a long while since Giz had taken a proper meal.  Betty shook her head, but there was nothing but heartfelt sympathy in her eyes.

The young Gisèle herself appeared on hearing the rattle of biscuits being placed into dinner-bowls.
"Hi Betty," she piped indifferently, with a rather pathetic half-wag of her tail.
"Hi Giz, my friend!" wuffed Betty affectionately, as she nuzzled her little friend's neck and gave her several big licks.  She was about to say something else, when my partner set the two dinner bowls (one small, with semi-moist biscuits, and one large, filled with juicy tinned meat and mixer-biscuits) on the ground.  (Because of Gisèle's propensity towards Colitis, she is generally kept away from tinned meat).

Betty immediately fell upon her bowl and, with much mess, noise and slobber, began to gobble down her dinner.  Giz, on the other paw, reluctantly crunched her way through three or four of her little marble-sized biscuits and then pushed the rest of the bowl away, untouched.  Betty looked up from her meal, meaty jelly covering her snout and beard, and watched Giz with concern as the little Jack Russell glared coldly at the rest of her dinner.  With a momentary pang, Betty looked again at her food and then turned to Gisèle.
"Giz," she barked gently, "I've eaten my mixer but not all of the meat.  I'm not sure - " frowning as she struggled against all of her inner values and instincts "- I don't think I can finish it.  There's only a bit left - would you like to finish up my meat?"  I whipped around to look at Gisèle and felt a glimmer of hope as I thought I detected a flicker of temptation cross her face.  "Go on, Giz," coaxed Betty, "I really can't manage any more.  It would be such a great pity to have to throw it away..."

Giz took a few steps towards Betty's dish and ate a tiny bite of the jelly-covered meat.  Her tail wagged involuntarily and, without much more prompting, she had finished off Betty's dinner.  Betty, in the meantime, had crept around behind Giz and had eaten about half of what remained in the little bowl, to compensate for what she had offered her solemn little chum.

I cannot tell you how glad I was to see Gisèle eat a sensible portion of dinner for a change, and how utterly grateful I felt towards the once-selfish and obstreperous Betty.  After Giz had finished eating, Betty gently and kindly ushered her diminutive friend back to the sofa in the living-room and quietly invited her to bark about what had happened.  I heard Gisèle beginning to cry as she replied to Betty and decided to leave them to it.  I remained with my partner in the kitchen as she did the washing-up.

I confess myself to have been utterly unprepared for the sight that met my eyes when I re-entered the living-room.  I felt as though I had never witnessed a greater character-reversal (consider the early days of Betty's and Gisèle's acquaintance and such incidents as Betty biting off part of Giz's upper lip and her attempt to pull off the little Jack Russell's tail), or such an example of selfless love throughout ALL my years on Earth.

And, with apologies for its blurriness, I can assure you that this photograph was not posed, set-up or otherwise photo-shopped in any way...:-

I am barkless; utterly barkless...