Bark - One Special Dog

The decision was made. We didn’t see it as giving in, relenting to pressure. It was more like the time was right. Lots had been going on in the family and as things settled down, I didn’t want to be thought of as “Mum always said ‘No’”.

 The four of us sat down to tea. Everyone had a small piece of paper, face down, not to be touched until we were ready. I think I should explain, we’re not a completely crazy family, at least not yet, but as parents we took pleasure in turning ordinary things into memorable events sometimes. We took turns to reveal the word or words on the other side.

‘WE’, ‘ARE’, ‘GETTING’, ‘A DOG’. Tea-time took on a party atmosphere as excited children burst with joy and parents knew they’d done exactly the right thing.

 Before involving the children, we’d done some research into the best breeds for a family dog and what would suit us all. I wouldn’t expect our son to be happy walking a ball of fluff with a bow in its hair and something large and heavy would be too much for me to handle. No puppies, either. There were lots of dogs needing a caring home. We would find one. The search began in local kennels and RSPCA homes. I can’t remember how we found North West Springer Spaniel Rescue, but that’s where we found our special Cassie, in their Warrington kennels.

 She was an old, Springer breeding bitch and had been subjected to some neglect since reaching the end of her usefulness. She was deaf and not very playful. She needed regular, short walks, but she was too old to chase a ball. She was perfect for our first family dog. Cassie was quiet. Because of her deafness, we didn’t let her off her lead. She didn’t hear the doorbell, so she never barked. I only remember hearing her bark once.

 We went on the beach at Cleveleys. We thought Cassie might not have experienced sand or sea. The tide was quite a way out, but there was a big pool in a shallow area near the sea wall. Cassie ambled in, water covering her feet and she stood still, taking us by surprise by barking her head off. Thinking she was unhappy, I brought her out, only for her to pull on the lead to go back in and bark again. Clearly she liked it. Perhaps it was the cold water on her feet combined with all the smells that might have been new to her. Bless her.

 She was an old girl of a dog, but she brought much joy in the time we had her. We all loved her. Whatever her life had been like before, we know we did the best we could to fill her twilight years with affection, care and comfort. This happened many years ago and paved the way for another, younger and more active dog, but Cassie will always be special.

Haiku poem for Cassie

Her name was Cassie,
A quiet Springer Spaniel.
She was unhappy.

“All you need is love
And lots and lots of cuddles
To know you’re wanted.”

She was getting old
And neglect had made her sad,
So we brought her home

And loved her to bits.
Our affection filled her days
And she loved us, too.

She was very deaf,
She had to stay on her lead
But she didn’t mind.

She liked a short stroll,
Her running days were over.
She would explore smells.

Once, we heard her bark
In a pool on Cleveleys beach.
She was excited.

It was her laughter,
A moment of enjoyment.
You were special, Cass.

PMW 2023

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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Struggle

Epimetheus and Pandora

“The name Epimetheus comes from the Greek god (or titan) Epimetheus (or hindsight) who was the brother of Prometheus (foresight). Together, they represented humanity.”

I read The Iliad and The Odyssey a long time ago but I would struggle to remember much Greek mythology now. Maybe worth a re-read, just to master the challenging names, even though I found lots of it scary.  Stephen Fry’s Mythos is on the shelf, looking more appealing. I’ll see. There is a reason for this.

I’m a reading volunteer at the local primary school. Actually, I’m not doing the reading, I’m listening, encouraging, praising and offering help where needed to Year 4 children, which is the 8 to 9 age group. I’m learning a lot. They don’t mind telling me what they think of reading. It’s a love or hate thing. I do my best to promote a positive love of books, stories developed by imagination and the joy of disappearing into the world created by a good author. It is lovely to meet a child who reads for pleasure. There are some struggles for me to overcome.

“I read in my head, Miss,” says the child with an open book half under the table.

“I’m sure you do, and that’s excellent, but you need to read aloud to me just for a couple of minutes while I check your progress. Pop it up on the table so I can see the words.”

Seeing the words would be good. The better the reader, the smaller the print, it seems. My glasses are the correct prescription but I struggle to see some pages and it’s hard to follow the text with a child who has a tiny voice. Then there was the stumbling over an unfamiliar name.

“Epi, Epi, Epim,” a pleading look for help. We sound it out together.

“Epimetheus. Well done!” I hoped I’d confirmed the correct pronunciation. The story was an age appropriate  Pandora’s Box. Other children also had Greek mythology stories. I’d better brush up before next time. Personally, I prefer the Amelia Fang stories by Laura Ellen Anderson.

One of my favourite poets, although he’s so much more, including writer, broadcaster and until recently, Chancellor of the University of Manchester, is Lemn Sissay, OBE, FRSL. Reading his autobiography was heart-breaking, tears on every page, a childhood full of struggle and adversity with situations which made me furious. I am in awe of him, the life he has made for himself and everything he does for the benefit of others. Out of many, I chose this poem,

 Let There Be Peace

By Lemn Sissay

 

Let there be peace
So frowns fly away like albatross
And skeletons foxtrot from cupboards,
So war correspondants become travel show presenters
And magpies bring back lost property,
Children, engagement rings, broken things.

Let there be peace
So storms can go out to sea to be
Angry and return to me calm,
So the broken can rise up and dance in the hospitals.
Let the aged Ethiopian man in the grey block of flats
Peer through his window and see Addis before him,
So his thrilled outstretched arms become frames
For his dreams.

Let there be peace
Let tears evaporate to form clouds, cleanse themselves
And fall into reservoirs of drinking water.
Let harsh memories burst into fireworks that melt
In the dark pupils of a child’s eyes
And disappear like shoals of silver darting fish,
And let the waves reach the shore with a
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

 

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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