I have been attending a weekly U3A class in French during the last few months. My spoken French is still absolutely abysmal, but I have loved the chat with the sparky teacher and other elderly students.
In the interests of getting fit for climbing Kilimanjaro, I have recently started to walk all or at least a part of the way there. The class is in Herne Bay – probably about nine or ten miles from home on footpaths.
My friend Pat walked to Herne Bay with me last week and we stopped off in a cafe on our way for a cup of tea. It is a cafe which seems to be frequented largely by dogs! There were four little dogs within six feet of us, one of which was occupying the seat right beside me. I asked its owner what sort of dog it was and she replied, “Shit poo”! I was about to say I knew they all did that, when she went on to explain that she meant it was a Schitzu Poodle cross.
Of course I had to tell the French class about this: it is an extremely doggy orientated class. The teacher, whose house the class is held in, has a gorgeous dog called Beau, a Cocker Spaniel Poodle cross. Beau bounds around amongst us during the class, ensuring that all of us keep wide awake!
The teacher is also an occasional dog sitter: she moves into people’s homes with Beau to care for their dogs, when they are on holiday. The French class has, therefore, on occasions taken place in other dogs’ houses, so to speak. We loved being in Bella’s house! We couldn’t get over the fact that her owners seem to have matched her perfectly with a giant rug!
My first ever doggy experience was with my grandparents’ Cocker Spaniel, Glen. He was considered to be a working dog and lived outside in a spacious kennel. However he had the run of the gardens and was an extremely gentle and patient dog, and I loved him. Although I have never owned – or been owned – by a dog, I have always felt happy with dogs around, thanks to Glen.
I spent some time in Scotland last year, helping my friend Susie, whose husband was dying. Susie is owned by a wonderfully intelligent Spaniel, Archie. When Susie and I accompanied Archie on one of his long cross-country rambles, he would sometimes disappear for long periods to chase a pheasant or a squirrel, reappearing occasionally, just to check we were alright. I was quite nervous when I set out alone with Archie for a walk in case he disappeared: I didn’t want him lost on my watch. I needn’t have worried! Archie was aware of his responsibilities. He wandered off on his usual side excursions, but never once did he let me out of his sight. I was too much of an unknown quantity to be trusted out unsupervised.
When we visit my brother Robbie, dog loving is compulsory. He and Mary have three “boys”, Finlay, Rhuari and Mungo. Mary takes great pleasure in training them as PAT (Pets as Therapy) dogs: they accompany her into various care and nursing homes. It was there that an elderly lady first held out a piece of banana to one of the “boys”. The dog obligingly wolfed it down, and then decided it was the most exciting flavour ever. Since then, bananas have been considered the best treat ever by all three dogs and have to be carefully hidden out of sight and smell, if an easy life is to be had at home.
On our recent training exercise in Italy, Jae and I, in the Exodus group, were accompanied up and round the crater of Vesuvius by a dog. We were told that he lived on the mountain and was fed and received medical care there. I don’t know whether there are dogs on Kilimanjaro or not and if so, whether they enjoy bananas, which are in plentiful supply there. I may have to wait till I get there in August to find out.
Note from Jae: If you’d like to receive each blog post on email just enter your email address where it says “subscribe” on the menu (on the left hand side on a computer, or when you click the three-little-lines menu icon on a phone or tablet). And don’t forget to “like” us on Facebook. Thanks lots for your support, Jx