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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On the Doorstep - Stretford 1958

Stretford, 1958, me, my mum, my nanna and my great grandmother, Nanna Polly grouped together for a family photograph on the doorstep of Nanna Polly’s house. I can remember being shuffled about to place everyone exactly right, and wearing my beautiful dress made by my other nanna. Our four generations, never to happen again, which makes the photograph all the more special.  Nanna Polly passed away the following year then ten years later my mum died which broke the links in the chain.

It has been a year of everything being placed on our doorstep, quite literally.  On a personal level, Covid 19 changed the way we live and the way we shop. We’ve done grocery shopping online for years. This has increased to the, butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, or that’s how it sometimes seems.

The first lockdown brought me fear and worry as we stayed at home, shielding from the outside world. One day, there was a wonderful surprise that started with a message from our niece.

“I bet you a million pounds there’s a shoebox outside your front door.”

What? Of course, I went to look. On the doorstep was a shoebox, with a note wishing us well and hoping we enjoy the contents. It was jam packed – including jam – with all the tasty goodies to put together an afternoon tea with lots of extra treats.

I was overwhelmed. Our niece, a busy NHS frontline worker, adored by us all, had gone to such trouble to make us this fantastic gift which was very welcome. I didn’t see her or hear her drive away. What a special lady, our angel. I think she made one for her mum, too. If you’re reading this, Jo, we salute you.

Good old Amazon, I couldn’t have managed Christmas without you. Day after day, another parcel delivered and placed on the doorstep as I organised gifts for the family and planned some sort of socially distanced Christmas Dinner at our house.

I’m the only survivor of my four generations.  I’m in awe of the strength of character my nanna and great grandmother must have had to endure two world wars and all the hardship and heart break that life threw at them. Both of them lost children in infancy. My great grandmother was only twenty-seven when she was widowed and lost her five year old daughter all within a fortnight.  I’m proud to be standing on that doorstep, surrounded by their love. I hope they’ve passed some of their northern grit down to me.

I found this poem by Thomas Hardy,

On the Doorstep
The rain imprinted the step’s wet shine
With target-circles that quivered and crossed
As I was leaving this porch of mine;
When from within there swelled and paused
A song’s sweet note;
And back I turned, and thought,
“Here I’ll abide.”

The step shines wet beneath the rain,
Which prints its circles as heretofore;
I watch them from the porch again,
But no song-notes within the door
Now call to me
To shun the dripping lea
And forth I stride.

Thomas Hardy, written in January, 1914 – and I wanted to add, ‘Yep, out you go!’

(If you remember the photo, apologies for using it again, though it was ages ago.)

Thanks for reading, stay safe, Pam x

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Mouths - Open Wide!

“Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings comes forth wisdom.”

 Or sometimes surprise, but nearly always truth, as they see it, and they always say it. I was mindful of this when out with my three year old son, many years ago. We were walking along a street in town when we saw a rather large gentleman taking time to get into the driving seat of his car. The car was a Metro and I was thinking he could do with a bigger vehicle when my son piped up, ‘He’s a very fat man, isn’t he Mummy?’ We were right next to the car by now and of course, he heard my son. I remember offering what I hoped was an apologetic smile to the man as we passed. My son was just saying what he saw. The innocence of his young age had not yet grasped the feelings of others. That would be a chat for later.

It was a privilege to spend a few years working with young children. They are amazing at sharing details of their lives in and out of school. I was good at keeping a straight face. ‘Mummy was being sick because she had wine.’ There was lots of ‘My Nanna/Daddy/Mummy said…’ followed by a serious sounding statement from them. I would be sympathetic hearing about fall-outs and possible consequences, who was shouting and who was crying. I shared in their joy of holidays, parties, friendships and special family occasions. I loved to feel included in their lives. Parents would have been horrified at some of the things their children said, whether truth or fiction. I’ve missed being part of that school. I should have stayed longer.

Dentistry has been a major part of my working life. I trained as a dental nurse before moving into other things, then coming full circle to work on reception in a large NHS practice. I’ve done my best to help people and I hope I’ve been successful in that but I’ve had enough of mouths and teeth now. I’m planning a slightly early retirement, soon.

And where will I be? Back to the ‘mouths of babes and sucklings’ with everything my grandchildren tell me.

Try this to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star

 

‘Got my toothpaste, got my brush,

     I won’t hurry, I won’t rush.
     Making sure my teeth are clean
     Front and back and in-between.
     When I brush for quite a while,
     I will have a happy smile.’

Anon.

 

Here’s Pam Ayres,

   

 Oh, I wish I’d looked after me teeth

 

Oh, I wish I'd looked after me teeth

And spotted the dangers beneath
All the toffees I chewed,
And the sweet sticky food.
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me teeth.

I wish I’d been that much more willin’
When I had more tooth there than fillin’
To give up gobstoppers,
From respect to me choppers,
And to buy something else with me shillin’.

When I think of the lollies I licked
And the liquorice allsorts I picked,
Sherbet dabs, big and little,
All that hard peanut brittle,
My conscience gets horribly pricked.

My mother, she told me no end,
‘If you got a tooth, you got a friend.’
I was young then, and careless,
My toothbrush was hairless,
I never had much time to spend.

Oh I showed them the toothpaste all right,
I flashed it about late at night,
But up-and-down brushin’
And pokin’ and fussin’
Didn’t seem worth the time – I could bite!

If I’d known I was paving the way
To cavities, caps and decay,
The murder of fillin’s,
Injections and drillin’s,
I’d have thrown all me sherbet away.

So I lie in the old dentist’s chair,
And I gaze up his nose in despair,
And his drill it do whine
In these molars of mine.
‘Two amalgam,’ he’ll say, ‘for in there.’

How I laughed at my mother’s false teeth,
As they foamed in the waters beneath.
But now comes the reckonin’
It’s me they are beckonin’
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me teeth.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading, Pam x

 

 

 

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