Venus, page 13
8 September
I’m finding looking after this kitten more stressful each day. Tonight, after dark, he clambers through the hedge into the garden next door. He’s perfectly happy playing on their lawn, quite oblivious to the dangers that I, as an older dog, know about. Mum can’t find him and he doesn’t come when she calls, so as usual I have to show her where he is. She can see him through a hole in the hedge and tries to lure him back with chicken, but it doesn’t work so she has to go round to the neighbour’s house and collect him.
9 September
It’s impossible to keep that kitten in. He’s as thin and slippery as a piece of seaweed. Tonight he’s missing again after dark, so I’m sent out to search for him. I find him in one of the big laurel bushes between our garden and next door’s. He’s right at the top and Mum climbs up with a torch in one hand. But that baby pest is having fun and just wants to play, so he jumps onto another branch.
Mum calls on Archangel Fhelyai, Angel of Animals, to look after Ash-ting, while she dashes inside to open a tin of tuna. She puts some on a plate and runs out with it – but while she’s balancing on a branch, holding the plate and torch in one hand and trying to grab the kitten with the other, the fish slips off onto the ground. Lucky me! Mum fetches more tuna and this time she puts the plate on the ground, holding me off it! In a jiffy Ash-ting jumps down and starts to gobble it up. Mum picks him up quickly and carries him inside, while he wails in protest.
My pesky kitten, Ash-ting
10 September
That kitten never learns. This time he goes over the fence to the garden on the other side, where they have a sausage dog. It barks menacingly. I woof frantically to inform Mum that Ash-ting is in trouble, but she tells me to be quiet. That canine next door carries on yapping and when I try to get Mum to understand, she sends me indoors.
A few minutes later Mum asks me where Ash-ting is. Immediately, I run out of the back door to the fence, and whine. This time she realizes that something is wrong and rushes over. That mutt next door has Ash-ting backed up in a corner! It’s a tense moment while Mum scrambles over and grabs him. I receive lots of well-deserved praise this time but that grey fur ball is quite unabashed.
It’s definitely unfair. Ash-ting and I are having a fun time tumbling about and jumping on each other. He claws my nose and I let out a loud yelp. Mum shouts, ‘Venus, stop it. Leave Ash-ting alone, you bully.’ There’s no justice. That kitten hurt me!
Even my angel is unhelpful. She smiles, ‘Sometimes you just have to rise above it.’
11 September
My life has changed. It’s fun to play with Ash-ting, but when I want to play with Mum, he’s hanging round, too.
This afternoon I fetch my toy with its string attached so that Mum can swing it for me to catch, but that kitten is racing behind me chasing the string. Mum jokes, ‘He’ll soon be coming for walks with us!’ No! I hope not.
12 September
I’m a very responsible dog. Tonight I go out into the garden to do my business. It’s a very dark night and I’m ready to come in when Mum calls me. However, she doesn’t realize that the kitten slipped out when she opened the door for me. He’s like a mouse – you don’t see him slither out of the tiniest crack. So when she calls me, instead of coming straight in, I run to the end of the garden to fetch him. ‘Venus,’ she calls. ‘I told you to come here.’
Luckily, when I reach Ash-ting he comes immediately and we run indoors side by side. Thankfully, Mum realizes what happened and is very pleased. She apologizes for being cross and gives me a treat.
I look at one of my angels, who reminds me that when you do something for the highest good, you eventually receive karmic recognition.
I prefer recognition now.
13 September
We are filming a DVD today. Lots of people arrive to take part, but Mum shuts me in the kitchen. Huh! I’m meant to join in. I bark and bark until they let me out. Then I run into the filming room and drink someone’s water, which makes everyone laugh. That’s my first good deed.
I chase around among the audience and they try to pat me and call me to them, which lightens up everything. Mum says I put her off.
I do other helpful things, too. Every time Mum stands up, I jump onto her chair to keep it warm for her. And when someone lies on the floor for a demonstration, I immediately stretch out above his head, in perfect alignment with him.
My angel reminds me that I did that in the healing temples of Atlantis. We bring our latent gifts into this life with us and they are coming forward now for everyone.
15 September
Mum has bought me some horrible tins of dog food. She purchased them to give me variety and because someone said her pet absolutely adores this brand. Well, that dog is not me! I refuse to eat it for as long as I can and even Ash-ting, who is the greediest cat in the world and eats all my food whenever possible, won’t touch it. I think that makes Mum decide.
At teatime she gives me a little tiny bit of this food and mixes it with a lot of roast chicken and a dusting of cheese, so I eat it.
16 September
Mum has to work in London this weekend and there’s no one to look after Ash-ting and me, so she’s driving us to her daughter Lauren’s today to settle us in. Isabel and Finn can’t wait to see me, of course!
Everyone wants to know how Ash-ting and his mother Kali will react to each other. Will they recognize each other after six weeks? How will Kali be with her son?
As soon as Ash-ting leaps out of his travel cage on his long, wobbly legs he runs to his mother – but she’s having none of him. I watch goggle-eyed as she hisses at him and bats him away. It breaks my heart.
Ash-ting spends the whole time trying to cuddle up to or play with his birth mother, but she doesn’t want to know. He jumps playfully out at her whenever she passes. Then he trots behind her, mewing. It’s sad to see, except that he’s such a cheerful, engaging chap that he soon wanders off and finds something to play with before trying again.
And what about me? I’ve been his mother for the last six weeks and suddenly he’s not interested in me. I’m devastated because I’ve looked after him for so long. At least every time he really wants comfort, he snuggles up to me and purrs. Then he’s my baby again.
My angel envelops me in her wings and murmurs that motherhood is about the heart, not genetics.
17 September
Today is a repeat of yesterday. Kali feels that she has done her duty and she turns her back on her kitten. He really is ours now.
One good thing comes of this. Everyone is so busy watching the cats that I get to sniff around the guinea pig run for a while.
Then we all walk to the station to see Mum onto the train. I don’t want her to go and my tail droops, but she smiles and waves before she’s swallowed up. They’ll never get me into one of those huge great hissing, panting serpents.
19 September
Mum is coming back from London. Ash-ting and I hear her walking up the drive, so we both race to greet her. She picks me up first!
I sleep cuddled up to Mum on the sofa and Ash-ting is nestled up to me.
20 September
Mum and I walk to school with the children. As you know, this isn’t my favourite place because of all those kids wanting to stroke me and touch me. Maybe I’m maturing because it doesn’t seem quite so bad today. I only bark once at a child who comes too close to me. I scare him off, all right.
Then Mum and Ash-ting and I drive back home. I’m not looking forward to the journey after last time when the kitten mewed all the way, but I lie against his cage where he can touch me and he sleeps the whole way.
22 September
I have always hated the trampoline. Sometimes the grandchildren try to lift me onto it with them, but I escape as quickly as I can. Imagine my surprise when I find Ash-ting up there, bouncing around, having a wonderful time. Naturally I have to try it. I jump up on the stool that has been left out, chase Ash-ting round it once or twice, then realize how exhilarating it is. So he and I race around it while Mum watches us and laughs. Then she thinks she’ll bounce with us, too. Whew! Now that is terrifying!
27 September
This evening I start my gold dog class – note, it’s not puppy class any more. I’m feeling really good about it – that is, until we reach the car park where Mum explains that Sky, my collie friend, will be there but all the other dogs will be new. She says she’s sure I’ll make friends with them, but I feel a bit nervous.
Sky and her mum are in their car and we wait for them to get out. It turns out that Sky’s mum was explaining to her that she’ll only know me and all the other dogs will be new. We go in together and now that I’m with Sky, I feel great. We’re going to big dog class. We strut round the corner of the building together and stop and stare. The other dogs are enormous – an Alsatian, a golden retriever, a huge red setter and a wheaten terrier stand in a row staring at us, the newbies. Sky and I look at each other and sit down like small children.
But I have to say it’s a fabulous class. Those big dogs are amazing. Sky and I watch with wide eyes and try to copy them. What a learning experience!
I do bully the kitten a bit when I get home. It’s good to feel like the senior one again.
Chapter 25
The Bicycle Ride
1 October
Isabel will be ten in December. She has come to stay for a few days and I’m looking forward to that, as she plays with me all the time and gives me lots of treats. I love her, even though she sometimes calls me Eeny Veeny. Would you believe it?
Mum has only ridden a bike twice in the last 30 years, which is a bit worrying. She has bought Isabel a second-hand one for the holiday and cleaned hers up. In the forest I often see people on bikes with their dogs running alongside them, and it looks fun. I’m about to find out what it’s really like. Today we are venturing on our first cycle ride. Mum insists that she’s in charge and should hold my lead. Isabel says she’s more experienced and a better rider, so she should have that honour. Age wins so Isabel rides ahead while Mum wobbles along with me.
All is fine for the first 30 metres until we reach the next road, the quiet one-way street that cars hardly ever use. Isabel crosses first and I’m keen to keep up with her, but the only car of the day comes along at that moment. I tug hard to reach Isabel and my collar slips off over my head. Mum squeals and scoots across in front of the car, drops her bike in the road and hares after me. Isabel throws hers down, too, and races to catch me. A new game – Chase in the Road. My favourite! The lady car driver is very patient. She turns off her engine and settles in for a long wait. That’s Dorset for you.
After some time I let them catch me and put my collar and lead on again. This time there’s no argument – Isabel holds my lead. The lady in the car and Mum and Isabel all wave to each other and I wave my tail.
And you know what, it’s fabulous running through the woods with the bikes. We stop and talk to every single dog owner we meet and Isabel tells them all that she’s getting a puppy for her birthday.
3 October
Mum goes to the shop and buys a bicycle basket. That’s interesting until she actually expects me to sit in it. She must be mad! There’s no way I’m going to get into a basket on the floor, let alone on a bike. I hear her say that she’ll look for a bigger one on the internet, one that has a proper dog harness. With a bit of luck she’ll forget that idea. She will probably ask the angels to find her a dog basket if it’s for the highest good – and I can tell her it isn’t.
Isabel has already started a campaign to get a puppy for her tenth birthday. Her mother definitely doesn’t want one, but Mum says that Isabel is a master manifester. Watch this space!
This is what she has done so far.
She tells absolutely everyone that she’s getting a puppy for her tenth birthday.
She talks about it all the time as if she already has one.
She has cut out pictures of dogs and pinned them on her bedroom wall.
She visits the charity shop or the pound shop weekly and buys something for the dog.
She has promised her mother that when (not if) she gets her pet, she will do jobs to pay for its food.
Every day she asks the angels to bring her a puppy if it’s for the highest good.
I’m agog! It’s two months until Isabel’s birthday. She’s going home today and I’ll miss her.
8 October
We are walking around the outer edge of the forest when a big black retriever races along the path and up to Mum. It’s really strange. This animal is acting as if he really knows her. But he’s nice to me, too, and lets me sniff him. Soon two women arrive on the scene and one exclaims. ‘Wow, he really loves you!’ The other one says to Mum, ‘You’re the lady who rescued me from the mud after my hip operation!’ The big black retriever is rubbing his head against Mum’s leg. I can’t believe he remembers after all this time.
We chat for a while and when we move on Mum says, ‘That’s why dogs are so special – they remember.’
Isabel phones to say she has bought a dog bowl in a charity shop.
10 October
Isabel phones to say she has bought a dog collar in the pound shop.
13 October
Humans do say strange things. Mum says her eyes have gone square staring at the computer screen. But I keep looking at her and her eyes seem exactly the same as usual to me.
In the afternoon Isabel phones to say one of their neighbours has given her a rubber bone for the dog.
16 October
Isabel phones to ask if she can have my cage for her puppy. Mum says it’s somewhere in the garage and she’s welcome to it.
19 October
The weather has turned. It’s pouring with rain – thick, grey, relentless rain. ‘Oh, lovely’, cries Mum cheerfully, all warm and dry in Wellington boots, mac and umbrella. She actually hums to herself as she splodges through puddles, while I’m like a drowned rat – miserable is hardly the word for it. Water is dripping off my ears and tail. I refuse to run and play in the trees. Instead, I plod behind Mum like an old lady. Every so often I paw feebly at her leg to implore her to take me home. ‘Won’t she ever get it?’ She announces, ‘Okay, we’ll walk down the little paths under the trees. It’s not so wet there.’ At least that’s better, but when we reach the main path again, a curtain of water hits us. At last she relents and heads for home.
When we reach the road I streak as fast as I can towards shelter. Finally, we arrive at our house, where she has the grace to wrap me in a warm towel and rub me dry, then snuggle me into a soft rug and settle me down on the sofa.
Is this love?
20 October
I’m not on speaking terms with Mum and she thinks I’m a terrible teenager just because I don’t want to share with Dolly the Chihuahua when she comes to play today. Usually, we share our toys and chews and play together all the time. But she’s my mum and they are my chews and I also have to explain that Dolly and Ash-ting played together and left me out. So when my mum gives us all a salami stick treat, I wolf mine, grab Ash-ting’s right out of his mouth and go for Dolly’s. I’m like lightning.
Later, Mum gives Dolly and me a chewing strip. Normally, we play tug-of-war with them and it’s a great game, but I seize Dolly’s and place it carefully between my paws while I eat my own. I growl at Dolly every time she tries to retrieve it, so she sits on the sofa and watches mournfully.
Mum is very unkind. She takes my strip away! How mean can anyone be? But I’ll show her. When she takes me for a walk in the woods I refuse to go to her when she calls me. She immediately turns and heads for home and I can’t find her for ages. When I do see her, I race to her and she puts me on my lead. I can’t chase birds or squirrels or jump ditches. Huh! See if I care.
In the evening I refuse to sit on her chair beside her. I cuddle with Ash-ting on another chair. He loves me whatever I do.
21 October
During our morning walk we meet a couple with their Jack Russell. A puggle puppy has followed them and they tell us that its owner is at the other end of the woods. Mum says she’ll take the puppy with us as we are walking that way, but it refuses to come. In the end Mum puts him on my lead and offers him a treat. That does it. All the jealous terrier in me comes out. My lead! I growl menacingly and dart in to grab the treat before he can eat it. Every time Mum tries to give that imposter on my lead a biscuit, I snarl and snatch it first.
I’m not an unreasonable dog. When she explains that we are taking the puppy to find its owner, I settle down. That’s all right then, but she should have told me sooner.
The puggle pup and I race along the path together, ahead of Mum. He’s touchingly pleased to find his owner and she’s so relieved to see him again that she shouts at him for running off. I can’t think what I was jealous about.
At bedtime Mum strokes me and whispers, ‘Venus, you know you are special and I love you.’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Then why were you jealous of that little puggle?’
I close my eyes and pretend I’m asleep because this conversation doesn’t make me feel good. Mum is not fooled. ‘Jealousy means you are afraid of something. What are you afraid of?’
