BELLY UP

RACE TO THE RAINBOW BRIDGE (Flash Fiction)

No idea how I made it here. Without my shoes! Last thing I remember is the vet's voice:

"I'm sorry. We did all we could."

Here's his lead. In my pocket. I fly that dog like a kite. He weaves in and out the bollards and lampposts like French knitting.

I know it's here somewhere in the wood. Our wood. Mine and my lad's. Between the Horse Chestnut and the beck. Between the dell and the darkness. The Rainbow Bridge.

I'm scuffing leaf litter from my paws. Everything's gathering on my soles as I run. Seeds, dead things, lichen, carapaces. Did I say paws?

If I can make it there before he comes, bounding, baying, I will throw myself in his path, block him and baffle him from crossing. He'll mop my tears with his loppy tongue. He knows me better than my shadow. Better the shadow than the space.

I'm limping, now. Thorns and nettles. It must be here. Has to be! What if he's there already? Now I'm sliding down scarps, colliding with hazel and bramble. Ricochet echo off the wind turbines. Scent of oilseed chasing us across the folded fields. That copse where the cuckoo surprised us.

My feet, finding themselves in my shoes again. The carpet with the corporate logo under me. Worming powders and pet insurance.
"He was lucky to find his forever home with you."
I was the lucky one.

Staggering, now, not haring down all our dreams. Our old walk feels wrong. Tilted, somehow.  Leads were never meant to be so slack. Collars so empty.

How can I ever go home without him?

THE WAY TO FILL A DOG-SHAPED HOLE IN YOUR HEART

Lhasa lad

There's only one way to fill that dog-shaped hole in my heart. A dog! Or two!

I lost my soulmate Sheltie some years ago. I never once imagined living without a dog for the rest of my days. But chronic ill health, enforced early retirement and the financial restraints that brings had other ideas. I can no longer afford to give a dog the life with me that faithful friend deserves.

Instead, I dogsit. 
Just for friends, for family, sometimes for charity. 
The owners are people who know me, trust me totally, share their precious pets with me while they go on holiday.

Like me, these friends would never put their furry family member in kennels. So they bring them to me. I never ask for payment. The dogs' company's reward enough for me! Yet owners often insist on payment in kind, or whatever the going rate at a kennel might be, or a donation to my favourite charity, like INVEST IN M.E. RESEARCH. 

My long garden's big and secure enough to let dogs run and play to their hearts' content. The woods and walks are round the corner. I still have my old lad's toys and blankets to supplement their own if needs be.

Sometimes I'm just too poorly for a while and have to turn down prospective dog-sittings with regret. Of course, the various special regulars in question understand. But at times when I'm not house-bound or bed-bound, I take this delightful opportunity to put a little bit back into the doggy community, put a little piece of my heart back in place for a while.

This is one of those blessed times.

Here they are! My special VIP guests! (see pictures)

Mustn't keep them waiting.

As author Dean Koontz says:

"Once you have had a wonderful dog, a life without one, is a life diminished."

Lhasa lass

Me and my own Sheltie lad,
Pinch Mill Beck, South Yorkshire c 2004.

You need to get out more

ME/CFS has a misguided conviction it can suck you dry from the inside, like other so-called "invisible" illnesses. It attempts to change your ability to think, move and function. 

People see a smiling face, they convince themselves you're well. I reckon that's better than always having a face like a fiddle!

So today, a little less crashed than often, I leapt at the chance to get out and about. Two dear friends rang and asked if I wanted to go to the National Trust park that's a half hour's drive away in the next county.

 "D' you fancy a trip to Columba?" 

My brain-fogged mental muscles had gradually reshaped this into the more realistic invitation to "Clumber (Park)".

 I got my walking stick, the dog's lead, my camera and waited by the door!

We arrived for packed lunch, sitting in the car overlooking the trees and fields which make the Yorkshire/Nottinghamshire borderlands so beautiful yet sometimes "overlooked" in quite a different way!  The sun was glowing bravely over a chilly smorgasbord of winter solstice sights and smells. Frost and fire lit webs and tendrils, the lake glistened with extra duck topping, dogs peed on scented tree trunks not seen for a while (the sign near the car park assured us "more "P" on the grass verges" or words to that effect - I  told the dog it wasn't an open invitation), and the corvines grizzled throatily from the Lime Tree Avenue.

For me, it was such a treat to get out into the healing countryside I used to walk and cycle in every spare moment I got. Today's outing was a refreshing  joy to share in Advent . OK, so now back home I feel like someone has taken a blow torch to my eyes and ears, put razor blades rather ungallantly inside my biceps and throat, my calf muscles are twitching and snickering like the nostrils of a well-bred horse, but my soul is soaring!

God bless, everyone;

hope you can treasure the quiet and quirky moments in your build-up to Christmas, and not get too trapped or drained by the frantic.

Flying the Dog

I fly the dog like a kite
avoiding the power lines
Rottweilers
puddles

I edit him back to the bone
that squeaky chop focus
the spring and skip
the senior pup

I steer him clear as satnav
up ginnel and ley line
Taut leash
Skirting the block

I score him the home run
Light of ligament
Rhythm simper and stop
plipping drool in crystal water
Fur on felt snoring