What a week. We have been excessively busy - but I am glad to report that the evenings are drawing out and there is, once more, sufficient time for the girls to enjoy a walk (albeit a brief one at the moment) after work. Although the weather is still somewhat unpredictable of late, last weekend heralded some definite signs of approaching spring. Betty and Gisèle were very happy to be out in the garden and enjoying the warm early sunshine. The former was sitting upright on the small patio, enjoying the gentle spring-breeze on her snout. The latter was sitting on the border by the side-fence, gossiping happily with Rosie the Westie on the other side of the little wooden boundary.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a large, stranger of a dog heading towards us. I vaguely recognised him as belonging to a human visiting a relative two streets away. He was a big lad, a Doberman Pinscher for the most part, and he was definitely strolling our way. It did not augur well that strolling beside him was a very chatty Peaches (evil hell-cat). Uh-oh...
Peaches did not have the nerve to venture any nearer than the top corner of our little cul-de-sac. Such reticence, alas, did not affect the erstwhile newcomer who continued, alone, to the pavement next to our garden and gave Elizabeth a cursory greeting.
"Good morning." she responded, uncertain what to make of the big dog. The visitor, meanwhile, was looking over Betty's shoulder at Gizmo and Rosie.
"Are they the only ones you've got?" he asked.
"Excuse me?" frowned Betty, staring at the Dobermann.
"Those two, there." he repeated, "Are they all you've got? Don't you have any bigger ones?"
"Bigger ones - what?!"
"Oh, never mind. That one -" he nodded towards Gisèle. "She's very pretty. But she looks very young - is she pure?"
"I beg your pardon?!"
"Pure. Is she pure?"
"Pure as in...?"
"Pure. You know - pure. Is she virgo intacta...?"
"What?!" spluttered Betty, "I don't know!! Um... - yes, probably..."
"Right." nodded the big dog. "Is it extra for that?"
"Is WHAT extra?!"
"You know - for... some places charge extra for... that..."
Betty merely gaped at him, opening and closing her mouth like a startled goldfish.
"Well, " barked the big dog briskly, "What's your price for her for..." he considered for a moment "...half an hour...? Or have you got a deal running for a whole hour?" He regarded Gisèle again - Rosie had long-since escaped into her own house. "Oh, go on." sighed the dog, "I'll take her for the full hour."
"I'm sorry; I cannot understand you." replied Betty. I sensed that the Giant Schnauzer was just a few more badly-phrased questions away from losing her temper. I could already see her whiskers bristling and judged it prudent to remove little Gisèle from the scene as quickly as possible. Accordingly -
"Giz, would you accompany me indoors now please?" I barked.
"Why?" whined Gizmo, not wishing to depart the scene of mounting tension. But I had sensed what was a-paw in the Dobermann's enquiries and it was unfitting that the pure and innocent Gisèle should be exposed to such scenes. "Is there going to be a fighting?" persisted Giz, "A-cause I's good at fighting. I's small but I can run underneath big dogs and tear open bellies! If Betty is going to be in a fight then I wants to be in it too!"
"Inside. NOW." I barked, leaving no room for negotiation. Gisèle meekly trotted indoors, and I took care that the French Windows were closed behind her. My partner and I unearthed a favourite doll of Gisèle's, and she happily accepted it and capered upstairs to wash her baby-doll and sing it to sleep. Gisèle thus occupied and safely out of harm's way, I wandered back towards the garden, wondering how the h*ll, given my lack of a physical presence and Betty's feminine delicacy, we were going to get rid of the impertinent newcomer, who was loudly persisting at our fence.
"Look!" he was shouting aggressively as I re-entered the garden from the house, "I've got money to spend here!"
Just when I thought all was lost, an unlikely saviour appeared in the form of Laddie, the cockney market-trader who had moved into the next cul-de-sac fairly recently and who was very taken with Betty. He had obviously heard the increasing cacophony from the garden and trotted over to see what was a-paw (and probably also to flirt with Elizabeth who - alas for him! - viewed Laddie as socially unacceptable for one of her bloodline).
"Alright, Duchess?" he grinned at Betty, with a wink. Laddie was trailed by his usual "fan-base" of giggly young female cats, hanging upon his every bark, but they hung back at the entrance to our cul-de-sac, scenting the proximity of the foul Peaches and being nervous of the massive canine newcomer.
"No!" snapped Betty, irritably. "This idiot" (indicating the Dobermann) "won't stop asking daft questions - and he keeps offering me money for goodness-knows-what!"
"Eh?!" frowned Laddie, "Money for what?"
"The Parson Jack Russell Terrier!" replied the Dobermann, "I've offered a fair price for her! So, what's the problem?!"
A flicker of understanding passed across Laddie's face. He raised a paw and gave the larger dog a well-meaning pat on the shoulder.
"A word, friend, if you wouldn't mind...?"
With a last, irritated, look at Betty, the Dobermann turned away with Laddie, who was quietly muttering to the newcomer.
Betty and I exchanged a mystified glance at the two dogs meandering towards the neighbouring cul-de-sac, Peaches (the instigator of this tawdry mess) having long scarpered. B*st*rd. All of a sudden, the Dobermann Pinscher gave a mortified yelp. He made as if to turn and come back in our direction, but Laddie prevented him, with a firm arm and paw around his shoulders. The scrappy, but well-meaning, mongrel walked with the Dobermann all the way back to the house in which the latter was holidaying - during which snatches of the newcomer's barks drifted back to us on the breeze, including the phrases "apology...", "mortified...", "cannot apologise enough...", "respectable ladies...", "deceived by that cat...".
After a while, Laddie returned. He pushed a couple of dried sausages through the fence.
"There you go, Duchess." he grinned at Betty. "One for you and one for the pretty maid indoors. Don't tell me Master; he'll think I've gone soft!"
Laddie went on to explain that the foul, amoral Peaches has been telling all dogs who would listen that this house from which I write is, in fact, a high-class brothel for dogs - of which Betty is the Madam.
Most local dogs have come to know Gisèle and, by association, Elizabeth - and appreciate that they are respectable beauties. The Dobermann was a newcomer, however, and was unhappily hoodwinked by the wicked feline's tawdry assertions. Happily for the honour of these impugned ladies, which I had no physical powers to defend, Laddie left us in no doubt as to the fate of the ghastly squit Peaches, should he ever get his paws on him. Laddie might be as common as the dirt in the street - but his sense of decency raised him higher than most dogs I'd even known.
And Laddie's intrinsic goodness did not go unrewarded. When he came back to see if Betty and Giz had enjoyed the sausage-treats he'd given to them, Betty rewarded him with an open, unaffected and sincere smile. Betty did not openly smile very often - but, when she did, it was joyous and exquisite to behold.
"THAT'S it!" grinned Laddie, his tail wagging wildly, as he basked in the radiance of Betty's smile. ""THAT'S my girl! And if anyone - EVER - mistakes a Princess like you for a tart again, I'll tear 'em apart with me own fangs and flog their gizzards on me stall!"
Betty laughed.
Is this a trace of Lady-Chatterley-style romance in the air that I scent...?
Good evening...
Monday, 11 February 2013
Monday, 4 February 2013
Monday 4 February 2013
We were not expecting another visit from Betty until 15 February. However, she has joined us for a few nights' stay, arriving late yesterday evening. I will admit that I was a little apprehensive, given the cheeky hi-jinks of our mischievous little imps the last time they were together, but no-less pleased to greet our large and grey, tousle-furred friend, all the same.
Now, what is pertinent here to explain is that Betty is some years older than little Gisèle. Hitherto this has merely manifested itself in Betty becoming tired after a couple of hours' active play with Gisèle. It quickly became apparent after Betty was dropped-off last night, however, that she could not recall who the little Parson Jack Russell leaping up and down, dancing about and greeting her could possibly be. The unfortunate consequence of this was that Betty made a sudden and vicious lunge at Giz as she stood on her tip-claws to give Betty a kiss of welcome. Oh dear.
Gisèle screamed in shock and pain as Betty's large teeth sunk into her left eyebrow.
"Tear it off... tear it off..." grunted Betty as she nipped and bit, whilst my partner tried to pull her away from Gisèle and I roared at the large dog. She didn't hear me, and paid no attention to my partner's efforts. "Tear off her pretty face... tear it off..." she continued to snarl and mutter. Gis, her quick mind acting logically, twisted around, her brow still trapped between Betty's jaws, and clamped her tiny, sharp, needle-like teeth over one of Betty's teats. Betty yelled as the tiny white fury bit down into the flesh of her breast and immediately released Gisèle. Gis also released her bite and promptly started to shout and rave at Betty. As the shrill yapping continued, the blood from two Betty-fang-sized holes on Giz's eyebrow trickled down her snout and into her eye, where it mingled with eye-water and continued, a pale pink, down her face. Correspondingly, a set of almost-perfectly oval tiny bruises began to turn a dark purplish-blue around one of the breasts on Elizabeth's chest.
Not for the first time was I shocked at seeing how vicious the female of the species could turn when provoked.
"What did you do THAT for?!" demanded an enraged Gisèle.
"You complete fool!" I shouted at the same time. My partner was holding Betty away from Giz.
"Ohhhhh!" cried Betty, suddenly realising, "GIZMO!! Oh! No!! I'm so, SO sorry!"
"Yes! Gizmo!" yapped Gis, still furious. "Gizmo what you has just bitten!" (This was not the time, dear reader, to correct her speech anomaly).
"Sorry! Sorry! SORRY!" wailed the mortified Betty, as she hastened to clean up the wound she'd just inflicted upon her friend.
"Get off! Get off!" cried Gis, slapping Betty's snout away, "You will make it worse with your lickings! Let Mistress do it! Stop slobbering on me!"
"I'm SO sorry..." repeated a contrite Betty. "But," she added accusingly, "You DID bite me on my tit! That hurts too!"
"So what?! It is isn't bleeding like is my face!"
"It hurts where you bit it!"
"But I wouldn't never ever have bitten you on your tit if you was not biting me first!" protested Gisèle, wincing as my partner began to dab an antiseptic-soaked piece of cotton-wool gently over her twin bleeding wounds.
Betty considered this. Unable to argue against the logic of Gisèle's last statement, she nodded and began to profusely and sincerely apologise once more. The profound regret of the Giant Schnauzer (Riesenschnauzer) Elizabeth at her inexcusable folly could not be denied and Gisèle quickly forgave her friend. Giz knew, though was much too polite to say, that on occasion Betty's temper moved at a faster rate than her brain - and further mitigation was allowed when it came out that Betty had had a very long walk and a more-plentiful supper than was usual, so that her thinking was a little more sluggish than usual. After no more than an hour or so the two girls were happily smiling and gossiping together as though no altercation had taken place. And the following morning (this morning) the pretty pair positively gloried in being back together once more.
All was well. Until - and I sigh; is there to be no respite from the ghastly fiend?! - the malevolent hell-cat Peaches re-entered the fray...
Good evening.
Now, what is pertinent here to explain is that Betty is some years older than little Gisèle. Hitherto this has merely manifested itself in Betty becoming tired after a couple of hours' active play with Gisèle. It quickly became apparent after Betty was dropped-off last night, however, that she could not recall who the little Parson Jack Russell leaping up and down, dancing about and greeting her could possibly be. The unfortunate consequence of this was that Betty made a sudden and vicious lunge at Giz as she stood on her tip-claws to give Betty a kiss of welcome. Oh dear.
Gisèle screamed in shock and pain as Betty's large teeth sunk into her left eyebrow.
"Tear it off... tear it off..." grunted Betty as she nipped and bit, whilst my partner tried to pull her away from Gisèle and I roared at the large dog. She didn't hear me, and paid no attention to my partner's efforts. "Tear off her pretty face... tear it off..." she continued to snarl and mutter. Gis, her quick mind acting logically, twisted around, her brow still trapped between Betty's jaws, and clamped her tiny, sharp, needle-like teeth over one of Betty's teats. Betty yelled as the tiny white fury bit down into the flesh of her breast and immediately released Gisèle. Gis also released her bite and promptly started to shout and rave at Betty. As the shrill yapping continued, the blood from two Betty-fang-sized holes on Giz's eyebrow trickled down her snout and into her eye, where it mingled with eye-water and continued, a pale pink, down her face. Correspondingly, a set of almost-perfectly oval tiny bruises began to turn a dark purplish-blue around one of the breasts on Elizabeth's chest.
Not for the first time was I shocked at seeing how vicious the female of the species could turn when provoked.
"What did you do THAT for?!" demanded an enraged Gisèle.
"You complete fool!" I shouted at the same time. My partner was holding Betty away from Giz.
"Ohhhhh!" cried Betty, suddenly realising, "GIZMO!! Oh! No!! I'm so, SO sorry!"
"Yes! Gizmo!" yapped Gis, still furious. "Gizmo what you has just bitten!" (This was not the time, dear reader, to correct her speech anomaly).
"Sorry! Sorry! SORRY!" wailed the mortified Betty, as she hastened to clean up the wound she'd just inflicted upon her friend.
"Get off! Get off!" cried Gis, slapping Betty's snout away, "You will make it worse with your lickings! Let Mistress do it! Stop slobbering on me!"
"I'm SO sorry..." repeated a contrite Betty. "But," she added accusingly, "You DID bite me on my tit! That hurts too!"
"So what?! It is isn't bleeding like is my face!"
"It hurts where you bit it!"
"But I wouldn't never ever have bitten you on your tit if you was not biting me first!" protested Gisèle, wincing as my partner began to dab an antiseptic-soaked piece of cotton-wool gently over her twin bleeding wounds.
Betty considered this. Unable to argue against the logic of Gisèle's last statement, she nodded and began to profusely and sincerely apologise once more. The profound regret of the Giant Schnauzer (Riesenschnauzer) Elizabeth at her inexcusable folly could not be denied and Gisèle quickly forgave her friend. Giz knew, though was much too polite to say, that on occasion Betty's temper moved at a faster rate than her brain - and further mitigation was allowed when it came out that Betty had had a very long walk and a more-plentiful supper than was usual, so that her thinking was a little more sluggish than usual. After no more than an hour or so the two girls were happily smiling and gossiping together as though no altercation had taken place. And the following morning (this morning) the pretty pair positively gloried in being back together once more.
All was well. Until - and I sigh; is there to be no respite from the ghastly fiend?! - the malevolent hell-cat Peaches re-entered the fray...
Good evening.
Monday, 21 January 2013
Monday 21 January 2013
Gisèle's first EVER proper snow!
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.
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.
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.
 |
| 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.
Tuesday, 15 January 2013
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,,,
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
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
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
Tuesday, 1 January 2013
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."
"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
Friday, 28 December 2012
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.
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.
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