Last week I laid the leather top with help from Mag and Sonja. Prior to embarking, having stretched the leather over a number of days, I rang Fred for a final little advice. You get but the one chance so no mistakes can happen. As I wandered, Phone at ear I turned to see Dook with one of Mags best cockerels in his jaw. Leaping over I booted him and he released the shocked but live bird. Feathers floated down as I told the poor fella off. I thought, well, think he is learning. Tex would sit happily by the chickens yet should a pheasant land, assuming safety in chicken cover, he would immediately go for the kill. Its not pleasant and obviously not neighbourly having a dog killing Mags birds, but he accepted it, took it in his stride. Its hard for Dook. Tex used to stalk mice along the fields edge, a few chomps then swallow. He took out a single squirrell who found himself far from trees and on the grass Tex swept him up, snapping the poor rodents neck with a nonchalant flick. Dook is by far the wilder of the two. Mistreated, a rescue dog, a work in process. On his first day he took out a squirrel, his speed and manouverability are a class apart from Tex. Yet for raw strength Tex would have beaten dook. He would choose six inch diameter, six foot logs, and carry them easily. Dook only two thirds the size but far less strong is blessed with dexterity and grace.
My promise to walk him five miles each morning has been broken. But the park isn't enough so I retook my vows and these last two days have ensured his peace through working him hard. So many get sled dogs as they look cool not realising you need to tire them fully if you want peace. They are basic dogs, not far from wolves. In so many ways he is my superior but if I cant walk him a simple five miles each morning I don't deserve him. His bond now, to me, is too strong to sever and I must step back up.
Times have been hard. Midge lies dieing, three weeks ago she was placed on the Liverpool pathway and given 72 hours to live. We accommodated this expectation yet days pass and my partners strength and bravery have been imeasureable. They say soldiers in Iraq etc who faced IEDs were always sent home damaged. Often a soldiers tour would complete without seeing one. But maintaining the adrenalin preparation, knowing it could be any moment, this leads to PTSD. If something happens we can act but this waiting has gnawed away at us. Sapping our moral. Sleeping and eating become functional only and difficult to do. We have both lost over a stone in three weeks. In my fantasies of being a real man, I take the van, drive to Inverness and carry out an act of love I hope someone will give me should I be left as she is now. Racked with pain, unable to form words yet they are clearly ready in a mind that the body wont work for. I prayed she would die last night, to deliver Claire from this vigil of utter horror. Her brother too, at her side, waiting so pointlessly for death to conclude this ludicrous, religion inspired respect for life at any cost. Any human doctor would turn up the morphine tap. Finish her with what shreds of dignity remain.
Claire has enough money to get there again once. This was to be for her funeral. However, Midge will be the only one not attending so, I respect her decision to share her last hours of life.
Utter hell. Claire, poor brave darling, has slipped from sanity on occasion. Any normal human would. Please God, if you exist you are one evil bastard. Stop this torture or I swear I will kick your head to pulp if I ever meet you.
No comments:
Post a Comment