I still remember that day very well. The weather was bitterly cold and we were rugged up. Jeans, jumpers, coats and scarves. Absolutely no glamour. Michael and I walked around the enclosure slowly and easily, finding out about each other. I was impressed that Michael didn't attempt to touch me or kiss me - that had been a ongoing issue for me on first dates. But spider52 was very different. Lunachick fell in love on the spot. After our walk, we went to lunch at the Whiteman Park cafe, with the dogs.
Sascha, the 11 year old Weimaraner, came into my life as my first marriage was ending. She provided me with an outlet, an escape, unconditional love and a reason for living. I would go running with her on a regular basis, mostly in the bush or along the beach. She would put her big, boofy, grey head into my lap and comfort me when I was unhappy. Later, teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown, she saved me. My addled thinking couldn't cope with the combination of completing suicide and leaving my beloved dog. She was the reason I stayed alive and sought help. I even took her along to my first mental health clinic. They definitely decided that I was crackers on the spot!
Pip, the Jack Russell, was introduced to my household as a companion for Sascha when I went to TAFE to study. The neighbours had informed me that Sascha was howling when I went out. I was living with my children in a little duplex, so another big dog was out of the question. Hence, Pip, a rescue dog who had been brutalized, seemed perfect. He adored Sascha from the minute he clapped eyes on her. The first day Pip was with me, I didn't look at him, I didn't touch him, I didn't engage him in any way as I didn't want to overwhelm him when he had been through so much trauma. The only hassle I have ever had with Pip was his protectiveness of me and later Michael. We often joke that people have to beware of the small dog, not the others.
Ruby, the Beagle, was initially Michael's before she became ours, along with Sascha and Pip. She is a paradox, on the surface vague, vacant and vacuous. Her banal expression - her nickname is Dory (as in "Finding Nemo") - hides a mind like a steel trap, a naughty, mischievous, cunning and cheerful disposition. She is always surprised when she gets into trouble for recycling dog pooh, nicking the Sunday roast or leaving the house without permission. She is the comic relief in our house. She was bought by Michael's previous wife just before she died and his daughter, whose dog Ruby supposedly became, ignored her. In some ways, Ruby saved Michael in a similar way to Sascha saving me.
Added to this crazy canine mix is Ruby (!) who was my cat and has now become Michael's lover. I acquired Ruby the weekend after my marriage ended. I swapped my ex for a cat and in some ways, their personalities were very, very similar. Ruby is haughty, disagreeable, argumentative and aloof. Then, without a moment's notice, she becomes playful and frisky, a tease and a tart, all for Michael's benefit. She usually comes into our bedroom sometime during the night and sleeps hard up against Michael's body, within reach of his stroking hand. She tolerates the dogs, refuses to use the dog door unless she absolutely has to and treats us all mostly with complete contempt. She is utterly the ruler of the House that Rocks.
All our animals have adapted to the move to Heavenly Beverley without any hassles. The dogs have half an acre to lope around, woof, dig and lie in the sun. The cat has an extended territory as we have crown land opposite our house and she roams far and wide. All is well in their worlds. Just like us.
Michael with Ruby, before she became handsome if a trifle fat!
Kate and the 3 Stooges.
No comments:
Post a Comment