Snow

Our bedroom is on the west side of our house and we have blackout curtains so we never quite know what mornings will be like until those curtains are pulled back. Some days the sun is shining and concealed birds are all a twitter. On other days, droplets of water cascade from the sky or - as we exclaim in Yorkshire - "Bugger! It's pissing it down" which is surely more evocative than merely noting the presence of rain.

And this was this morning's view on December 11th - our first snow of the winter. No more than two or three inches. We thought it might hang around all day and freeze over tonight but the temperature rose above zero and by the middle of the afternoon the roads and pavements (American: sidewalks) were more or less clear.

You can see our sheep - Beau and Peep still grazing in the snow. Beau has been with us since October 2011 but Peep arrived at Christmastime that same year. The curtains are pulled back and there they are - as faithful as the rising sun.


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Winnie Remembered

 


Two years ago today my Winnie died

This was her obituary which, in retrospect is something I’m really proud of writing

I’m not sad, just reflective…the old girl is worth remembering 

Winifred Sâlote Tupou lV was a diva of rare proportions.
She was a blog writer’s dream as her adventures over her seven years at Bwthyn Y Llan never ever needed embellishing.
She was truly larger than life
Larger than I ever expected from our first, rather lacklustre meeting.
The meeting was September 1st 2013
I was in the middle of organising my last open Allotment Day when she arrived with her previous owner for an introduction, so our meeting was brief and , for me somewhat disappointing.
All I remember thinking was that she was overly large, had no neck to speak of and looked frightened of everything but I agreed she could come a few days later for a trial run.
And after that, stay she did.
I think Winnie was a fully cooked five year old bulldog when she arrived and it wasn’t long before I worked out the she had her own quirky set of obsessions which proved to be somewhat of a challenge when she finally got her confidence.
She masturbated incessantly, goaded on by the Professor who thought this behaviour hilarious rather than embarrassing and the object of her desires centred upon his tastefully buffed brogues and the infamous “ Slippers of sex” which were strange hand knitted slippers designed and made by Kit, an old lady who still lives in Bron Haul......Her habit of self pollution continued until her late onset emergency hysterectomy a couple of years ago, but even then , very occasionally she would back her toilet parts seductively onto her trusty fanny flannel when having a periodic summer bath
She adored visiting Workmen of any description , though it was fairly obvious that a generic friendly masculine type with overalls was her man of choice, and I must say that she would sulk for hours if she was not allowed to watch what household job needed to be completed. I also remember, her going missing when the British Telicom men were here putting in the broadband extra line. .........I eventually found her sitting in the telicom van’s passenger seat sharing a packet of cheese and onion crisps....
Winifred was also totally obsessed with food. All food. Any food.....and I once famously brought her around after a particularly robust attack of heatstroke after dipping her nipples into a cold bath and dropping a Tesco cocktail sausage on her gums.
Her food obsession lead to a life of stealing if left unchecked and I remember the toe curling embarrassment when she raided an elderly woman’s handbag for her polo mints and the time she helped herself to a baby’s Farley’s Rusk , which she found wrapped on the lower shelf of a baby buggy parked in the Church Yard.
She adored very small children too, and given her great size remained totally in control and gentle when around them. I remember one very emotional moment, observed a couple of times on Going Gently when she suddenly found herself surrounded by a large gaggle of pre school children out for a crocodile linked walk on the Dyserth walkway one summer. I warned the supervisor that she was indeed safe and as I walked up I saw a plethora of stubby little hands rub every inch of her in wonder.....her gentleness and obvious pure pleasure of the toddlers’ attention moved me to tears as I glimpsed just for a moment her natural ability of being a mother
Of all of her fellow animals in and out of the cottage, only one became a true friend, and that friend was Albert. I have often blogged that only she, out of all of my dogs had the capacity for thought and the understanding of simple concepts.
She understood Albert, and was never fazed by cat behaviour, idiosyncrasies that were always lost by the other dogs and last night , as she lay silent and still on the kitchen floor, only Albert came to her, carefully and wide eyed, to sit between her paws , his black head rubbing hers.
Now Winnie, was also a serial sulker. I often referred to her as being a gay man in a bulldog suit as when thwarted or god forbid told off in any way she would stare carefully into the middle distance for the longest of times before flinging herself with gay abandon onto a rug or an unoccupied sofa.
The longest sulk I ever timed, lasted almost six hours....a lifetime in the dog world.
Her last half hour on earth was typically Winnie. She ate a full bowl of dog food ( garnished with several Aldi cocktail sausages) then was allowed a ten minute hysterical rubber chicken gum before settling down on the mat by the door ( instead of her usual place in the reading armchair next to the radiator )
And that was where I found her only an hour later.
Quiet and peaceful
And all on her own terms
I’m sad but not heartbroken ....it was her time to go
And like the ideal cocktail party guest
She didn’t outstay her welcome
But I shall miss my old girl




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