Yet More Voices of Herefordshire
Page 13
‘Miserable buggers swans !’
‘What?’, I looked around there was no one in sight.
‘Suspicious aggressive devils!’ I stared at Brutus.
‘I find them so anyway.’
He scratched himself behind his ear. I felt I had to reply.
‘Well it’s not surprising when you hare along the bank barking your head off at them most of the time frightening the wits out of the poor things.’
‘When I was younger yes, you live and learn, and you know they look so stately and unflappable, it’s a big temptation for a left wing dog.’
‘I didn’t know you were a Socialist!’
‘All mongrels are !’
He lifted his head a little higher and one of the swans hissed.
‘See what I mean?’
‘Can’t you just enjoy the sheer beauty of them ?’
‘ Beauty ? I don’t quite know what you mean. Food is beautiful. Chasing things is beautiful …. It’s the hunter in me d’you see . They won’t even let me swim with them’
‘Brutus , you are a domesticated animal and we feed you plenty’
‘Plenty? Let’s not get too philanthropic shall we! You probably give me enough to stave off Beri Beri , and Rickets admittedly.’
I was offended. I hit back.
‘You’re getting fat and it’s not good for you.’
‘I notice you slackened your belt when we sat down. You are a glutton with a box of chocolates. Mind, I don’t blame you they smell delicious.’
He mopped up saliva sweeping his long tongue round his mouth from front to back, and once again like a windscreen wiper, at the memory of it.
‘You really shouldn’t sit so close to me when I do, with your big brown eyes, trying vainly to look like an Oxfam advert. You know I hardly ever give you one .’
‘I know , You’re a hard blighter, but very occasionally you drop one and if you don’t like the filling you give it to me. You’re really all heart.’
Brutus turned his head around and started licking himself.
‘Why do you DO that? It’s absolutely disgusting!’
He looked surprised and stopped for a moment,
‘Don’t you do it then?’
‘ Of course not.’
‘Then it’s probably just because you can’t. All us dogs do it. Have done for yonks.’
‘That’s not a reason. Why do you bury bones and dig them up later? That’s another irritating habit.’
‘Adds that piquancy that ‘je ne se quois’ although I can’t always remember where I’ve buried them.’ he added sheepishly.
‘And rolling in unmentionable stuff, cow-pats, fox droppings, etc., I really wish you wouldn’t do that. You know how you hate being washed down afterwards.’
‘Do you hose Anne down after she’s dowsed herself with that foul smelling Estee Lauder? It’s so unnatural, she’d smell a lot nicer with some fresh cowpat. Lasts a lot longer too.’
‘Anne smells lovely in her Estee Lauder. I love it.’
‘Chacun a son gout.’
‘ Mind you’re a great pet Brutus.’
‘So are you old fellow.’…….
I hadn’t quite thought of it that way but I suppose he had a point.
‘Yes you’ve fitted in well although your ears turned out to be a bit of a disappointment.’
‘My ears ?!!!’
‘Yes, they’re cheap looking ears. They were quite silky when you were a pup and they have never grown much since, except the hairs which have got longer and tend to get matted. You know how you hate them combed out.’
‘True, but at least they work well. Frankly I don’t think that anyone who has bald ears with a flesh coloured hearing aid in one, and needing one in the other, has the slightest justification to criticise mine!’
‘You are deaf sometimes too !’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. You can hear words like Meat, Dish, Walkies, but the appearance of a dog comb seems to render you deaf and uncomprehending. You’re fooling no one!’
‘It’s uncomfortable, we haven’t all got a thin balding coat like the one you comb y’know.’
‘You have lovely brown eyes though Brutus.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And you’re very good company.’
‘So are you and Anne, my dear old fellow.’
We looked into each other’s eyes. I fondled his ears and he licked mine – the one without the hearing aid. We both sighed happily.
‘Lunchtime.’ shouted Anne from the terrace , and off he bounded .
‘What do you think of our talking dog?’ I asked when I got my breath back.
‘He’s not getting a thing - he’s far too fat.’ said Anne.
Brutus looked at me with his big brown brandyball eyes . He’s never said a word since .
SNAPSHOTS OF LOVE
by
Elizabeth Rumsey
You, seen from a London bus, head down in the rain,
wrapped in your grey duffel coat, remote from me, dreaming.
Sun on the river. Like a boy with a toy boat, you took the wheel,
these friends, I wished them gone with their loud joking.
A clock on a windy station. Doors bang and the train so slow,
like days that dragged their promise of you, waiting.
Patterns of stained glass, flowers and a bridal march.
Your smile as a promise of love, our lives Uniting.
GOODBYE FROM KATE
by
Dot Ellison
Do not despair my love.
When you can no longer hold me,
I will stay and comfort you
My dearest, keep me in your heart,
Until we are re-united in another,
Happier world without tears.
Weep not long for me, my young ones,
You’ve been my greatest joy.
Without you two, we’d not have been complete.
Remember all the fun we had
All the laughs and tears we shared
Celebrate my life, the good and happy times
I am not a writer, just your teacher,
So remember me when you write
And I will know that we’ll all live on,
In books and stories to pass down
To all our future generations,
When we become the past ourselves.
Do not cry for me my friends,
When I'm gone from you.
It may have been expected
Or a dreadful shock for all,
But I am at peace now
And I suffer no more pain.
For Kate from Dot