Friday 28 October 2022

The Comfort of a Dog's Head


A few nights ago I was reading an article on the internet - it was something that interests me and that which I try to keep up to date with as much as possible.  However, I didn't realise it had a video embedded in it - I made the mistake of watching part of it, and as the horror of it unfolded I found I couldn't stop watching and I knew I would not be able to un-see it.

It was only the arrival of River's head in my lap that made me realise I had tears running down my face - she had seen my distress and gave me the distraction I needed, and so shut the computer down.  

Remarkably I did manage to get to sleep without any difficulty, but at 4am I was wide awake with my mind going down multiple rabbit holes.  I would haul it back like an errant terrier, but it would just disappear down another.  Inevitably I found it seeing the images from earlier in the evening.  I got up, I moved about, got a hot drink, scrolled on the phone for a while, listened to some music - anything to erase the imprinted images.  But when I put the light out again, I was right back there again and at that point I knew those images would stay with me and I would just have to live with that.

Lying in the dark, I knew I had Skara on the other pillow, Fen at the other side of the bed in her usual legs-in-the-air-I-don't-care pose.  Ulfar was on the floor beside the bed and River on the big comfy memory foam bed in the corner.  River got up at that point and climbed up on the bed, laying her head on my lower legs with a big sigh.  Normally I hate my legs to be restricted at night, but the weight of River's head was like a weighted blanket and I eventually drifted off to a somewhat fitful sleep  for what was left of the night.

I remembered reading a social media post by the author and dog trainer Suzanne Clothier where she described how, whenever she had to travel without a dog, she took a particular small travel bag, packed with nothing important but of a weight similar to a dog's head - she would place it over her lower legs to give her the comfort of having a dog with her.

In the morning I found myself thinking about how everyone lives with their dogs differently - some people just "have" dogs - just why, I don't actually know.  They don't engage with their dog, it just exists in the same way as a piece of furniture, and often is discarded in just the same way.  Dogs are abandoned at rescue centres with a note to say they are too old to be kept, or that they wee on the carpet, and all manner of other excuses.  The dog is dispensable, like litter, a worn out pair of jeans or an unfashionable handbag.

Others treat them as accessories, to be dressed to match their own outfits, with little bows and pretty dresses.  These dogs are not allowed to be simply a member of their own species and often end up with some rather sad behavioural issues.

Some are bought as playthings for a child, or to help the child learn responsibility - very often the child grows weary of the dog once it outgrows puppyhood.  If it is lucky, the parents will have assumed responsibility when they realised the child won't.  If it is unlucky, it may be abandoned to a shed outside, or to the rehoming centre.

There are those who keep dogs to use for breeding in atrocious conditions, devoid of the love of a human companion, but expected to produce litter after litter in squalid conditions and with no attention to physical, emotional or mental needs.

Other dogs are simply let down by their owners if they haven't met expectations in the show ring, or as a stud or brood bitch, or perhaps they don't "fit" into the way of life.  I wonder how many of these have never been helped to BE able to fit in.  Some are just ignored like an elephant in the middle of the room.  

My own life with my dogs hasn't always been easy - there are some dogs who come along who press your every button.  Sisko was one such dog - I found him a hard dog to love.  It was no fault of his own, and now I find myself wishing I could have him again, to try to be a better person for him with what I have learned since that time.  

But for me, each individual dog comes to teach me something new - very often about myself.  All of them give unconditional love which is something we humans struggle to give, and that most of all is perhaps the biggest lesson.  I am still not the perfect owner...... I don't teach them tricks, or do military-like obedience, or understand everything about what they do and why they do it.  But they are allowed to express themselves in their own canine ways whilst living in a human world.  And I express myself in my own human ways whilst living as part of a dog pack.  They share my bed and my sofa and are my main companions in this life.  And, as it turns out, my comforters too. 


Thursday 15 September 2022

Humanity's Pause

 It’s a while since I wrote on this blog – Tussock’s death floored me for long enough, and much has gone on since then.  I started another blog on an entirely different topic, but I think my heart stays with this one.  This post isn’t dog related, but momentous times need marking in some way.

I ventured on to the BBC site (not something I do very often now, having ditched the TV in 2020 and the BBC with it) and took a while to watch the people viewing the Queen's coffin - reading their emotions and watching their body language.  Some are so obviously distressed, some are full of love towards the Queen (and actually generally full of love), some are bemused, some are curious, there are kids who don't really know why they are there.  There is amusement, there is disgust, there is awe.  There are utterly obsequious curtseys and bows, and there are deeply respectful ones, and actually the most respectful are the nods of heads which say "I acknowledge you as a fellow human" or “The sovereignty in me recognises the sovereignty in you”.  Or, quite simply “Namaste”.  

All races, all faiths.  Some look as though they are just doing what they think is dutiful and others are recognising the deeply historic time we now sit quietly in.  There are servicemen.  There are people who are so obviously ill, but have still come out to pay their respects.  There are people in suits, dresses, torn jeans, t-shirts, parkas, turbans.  Men of the cloth.  It doesn’t really matter who they are or what they look like as there doesn’t appear to be any judgement.  It is quite remarkable and I could sit and watch this story of humanity for hours.  Such a coming together of many souls, many lights, each holding their own thoughts, realisations and emotions.

For some it may not be so much as a paying of respect, but more a marking of history – a recognition of a world we have all known now coming to an end.  No matter any individual opinion as to what the royal family stand for, who or what they are, the Queen has steadfastly carried out her duty as figurehead – not just for the UK, but the entire world.  Everyone knew who she was, and whether we accept it or not she has kept some stability around the world throughout her reign.  While we may not think her death affects us all personally, I believe it will affect us all, indirectly, in the months and years to come.

In some ways it almost feels as though the Queen has held on until she knew it was time to let go.  The placement of planets at this time is momentous, signalling great changes, great movements.  The Mayans knew this, the Egyptians knew it, the Atlanteans, the Lemurians…..

It will begin a general and slow unravelling of all we have known bringing discomfort, pain, sorrow and growth.  We will learn to appreciate one another, we will learn to love unconditionally, and we will learn the truth about who and what we really are.

This short window of time is almost like we, as a species, are in retrograde, and once the funeral is over, we will begin to move again, slowly to begin with, gathering speed and momentum.  It might get messy at times, but the destination will be awesome.  And all of us chose to be here to witness it, in the same way all those people have chosen to view the Queen’s coffin.