Puppy power?

Candy has now been with us for three days and I would say she has settled in very well.Leaving her mother and life as she knew it for a two and a half hour car journey from Birmingham to London must have been quite traumatic for her: there was a lot of wriggling and struggling on my lap at the start of the journey until we moved on to the back seat, more out of the sun. Towards home she started chewing on a toy which I thought was a good sign.

As soon as we were home we took her into the garden, which I immediately realised was not puppy proof – even though the foxes have not been able to get in for some time. Leaves, weeds, plants and snails are far too tempting for little puppies and there is a hedge that she can get under, not to mention various shrubs. Something tells me the garden may suffer for a while.

The next new experience was hearing the piano – one that she needed to get used to fairly quickly. This was better than expected, with Candy going straight under the piano stool and falling asleep. She will even stay in the kitchen when she hears me practising now. The ‘gate’ that was supposed to keep her in the kitchen was an easy squeeze through , so that had to be reinforced with a piece of wood, and there had to be an early introduction to the collar and lead for garden visits.

There’s such a lot to learn for a little puppy of just over 9 weeks old – even before we start attending puppy school! I’m not sure that she has really understood why I keep taking her out in the garden, on a lead, unless it’s to tell her not to eat the leaves, weeds and plants; she likes to tug on the lead and run about madly within its confines and I suppose that is a distraction from the toilet training. Bit of a breakthrough today, however – although she has been very good at using the newspaper on the floor of the downstairs loo, often just after I have brought her in from garden perambulations. The Perfect Puppy (Gwen Bailey) recommends taking the puppy into the garden after waking up, playing, any excitement, eating and at least once an hour through the day.

It’s been a big learning curve for me: for one thing, I’m turning into an anxious and neurotic mother! She ate a wasp in the garden on Sunday and I spent the rest of the day worrying about it; she started having hiccups later that day and I turned them into convulsions – how would she survive them? She usually reassures me by deciding to play tug of war with one of her toys! I felt more confident when I had booked her with the vet for her second vaccination, then I read on the blog about lungworm and was convinced she had picked that up from a snail in the garden. Hypochondria by proxy?

The Perfect Puppy stresses the importance of socialization for new puppies and we’re doing quite well introducing her to lots of new humans. Two friends came especially to see her on Monday and he took lots of photographs – until she started growling at the flash. These supermodels have their limits. She has met several children already as my pupils have been arriving as usual for their lessons, and the siblings who are waiting in the kitchen  get to stroke her and play with her.

She’s learnt already that she is not supposed to jump up at the gate; if she does I ignore her. It is very sweet to see her sitting behind it waiting patiently for me to go in to her. We’re not managing quite so well with stopping the play biting, as the scars on my hands testify – and she’s a little too fond of grabbing my hair as well!

We go to puppy school on Saturday – an introductory two hour class without her! I booked a puppy sitter.  I’ve just put her to bed, with a hot water bottle; she must be getting used to her new life as I’m not hearing any crying or complaining! She is absolutely gorgeous and funny and loving and has changed our lives completely!

Love at first sight

Under most circumstances I wouldn’t choose to drive over a hundred miles through incessant rain but there was a very good reason for making this journey today: we met our new puppy for the first time!She is a Soft-coated Wheaten terrier, one of a litter of seven. All the puppies are still together in the same pen but will gradually be taken by their new owners from next weekend. Candy (we finally agreed on a name) will be the last to leave her mother, coming home with us on 12th May.

I wonder what the puppies will think as their brothers and sisters leave, one by one? The mother is gorgeous, a very happy and friendly dog, and it’s great to see what our puppy will be like when she grows up, but I don’t think Mum will be quite so pleased to see us when she realises we are taking her last puppy away.

We now have two weeks of preparation for her arrival and I am so excited I can hardly wait!

The best laid plans…

I’ve cleared a fleet’s worth of decks and accepted that my desk will never remain free from clutter – so what! The carefully drawn (no, it was quite easy thanks to Tables in Word) timetable clearly indicates it should be possible for me to manage ten hours of writing and ten hours of practice every week – on top of the (part-time) day job and teaching. On Sunday, recovering from the latest lurgy, I decided it was time to stop procrastinating and just get on with it.

The phone rang. I let it go to answer phone at first – it’s too easy to be distracted when trying to work. After some prompting I listened to the message: a breeder of Soft Coated Wheaten Terriers was offering us a puppy! This wasn’t entirely out of the blue – we’ve been on a ’3 month waiting list’ since last September. During that time I’ve survived and recovered from a slipped disc and been mugged twice. It’s great to have something positive to blog about!

It will be a few weeks before we can bring her home and I don’t want to give advance notice of any planned meetings as ‘news’ that tells us what is going to happen (as in ‘the Prime Minister will give a speech about’….) is pointless and risky. Things are about to change dramatically and I may have to revise my life plan!

A resident of the Thames Path

Another stage of the Thames Path on Saturday, Datchet to Shepperton, and as we walked along the tranquil banks it seemed a million miles away from the urban danger zone that is London, even though we are ever closer. Datchet itself was not completely peaceful: we’d started from there at 9a.m. and before 9.15 at least five aeroplanes had swooped down on their way to Heathrow.

This section of the walk goes past the island where the Magna Carta was signed in 1215. Fortunately the guidebook points out these historical sites, which would be quite easy to miss while strolling past. Living things demand attention, and the most memorable of this walk was Dobby, the European Eagle Owl. (Picture from Google) He lives in a cage just by the path, concealed by vegetation. I only became aware of him when something huge jumped across my peripheral line of vision.  He was a beautiful specimen, the size of a small Labrador, in a cage that did not give  him a lot of space to spread his wings; we hoped he got out for exercise from time to time. Most shocking was the note attached to the cage, apologising that there was more of a barrier than there had been, due to youths taking shots at him with a catapult. The dense mesh would have protected him fortunately, and we were able to gaze at him for a while. It seems that the Thames Path is not such a haven after all, not for a defenceless bird in a cage at any rate.

Spring cleaning

I thought I’d write about spring cleaning this year, rather than actually doing any. Most years I will spend a day cleaning out cupboards, washing floors, dusting and having a general clear out but I’m rebelling this year, despite the sun shining through the (dirty) windows and highlighting all the dust. Ok, before I started this I decided to tackle my keyboard – computer, that is; I don’t normally start writing so early in the day and was rather put off by the amount of dust sitting amongst the keys.  A quick five minutes with a duster was all it took – not perfection, but an improvement.

I don’t aspire to be a domestic goddess even though I can bake cakes – and do, quite often – cook from fresh ingredients every day ( organic vegetables delivered by van every week and fish and meat bought from the local fishmonger and butcher) and like to put washing out on the line to dry. Unfortunately the rotating washing line finally collapsed and died earlier today. I’m not so good at tidying up as I go along – I’d rather do it all in one hit if there’s a good radio play on, which can be rather annoying for anyone sharing a house with me; these days I have to maintain certain standards as piano pupils come to the house and their parents and siblings often wait in the kitchen, which is of course pristine on my teaching days.

Spring cleaning is probably an outdated practice anyway in 2012. Everywhere is cleaned so excessively that more and more people are developing allergies through having no immunity built into their systems. Cleaning products are marketed as ‘anti-bacterial’ – as though previous cleaners could not guarantee this. There are far too many products competing with each other to be the most effective grime busters on different surfaces. I think my mother’s cleaner has the right idea: she uses fairy liquid for everything!

The kitchen cupboards were cleaned out when I couldn’t sleep a few months ago, so I don’t need to feel guilty about neglecting them this year. I don’t, anyway. The floors get washed every couple of weeks or so as a matter of course, and someone else does the vacuuming. As it’s such a beautiful day I may wash out some plant pots out in the garden later on, but that will be the extent of my spring cleaning this year.

Spring is here!

It’s ten days away from the official first day of Spring but it feels as though it has arrived already and to prove it, I’m sneezing twenty times a day! As soon as the blossom appears on the trees after the last cold snap of the winter, my hay fever starts. It used to surface promptly on May 1st every year but now arrives almost two months earlier. Last week the garden had the unexpected benefit of a day of rain, after which crocuses magically came up, along with the first red tulip buds. Despite the sneezing I love this time of year!

We walked along the Thames Path yesterday, starting at 9.30 a.m. in a chilly grey day and finishing in a blaze of warm sunshine. As always it felt good to get out of London – even though we are slowly walking back there! – and away from all the concerns of daily life. There was a little mud – some welcome evidence of rain in the arid south-east – but nothing that impeded our walking in any way. We walked from Maidenhead to Datchet with a lunch break at Eton; coming from Eton the daffodils were in full bloom along the banks of the Thames. A section was closed off, although it was relatively easy to walk round the fence and back down to the path. There was a man walking his dog who explained that this had been designated as an Olympic site but was not now going to be one, given the impossibility of security from the opposite bank. Apparently a couple of million had been spent on security, new roads etc. but this had been wasted. He reassured us that we would be able to get out at the other end. The next man we met immediately started justifying his presence in this cordoned off area – we all seemed to feel the necessity to excuse our outrageous trespassing.

The river flows along peacefully along as we walk and talk, discussing  aspects of our lives and work, the books we have read recently and even, occasionally, noticing some feature that has been signalled by the guide book. It’s a great way to unwind, gain perspective on the daily routine and come back refreshed and ready to start another week.

Robbed again!

I had a meeting in town at 12p.m. today so planned to go in early and buy a hat. I have survived the winter so far without one, but would love one of those furry ones that keep your ears warm, and with the recent snow and ice I hoped I might find one amongst all the spring stock. I wanted to finish my library book – The Beautiful and the Damned – which was due back today, and the train journey would have given me enough time. It did not fit into the small bag which I now carry across my body so I took an ancient Liberty print shopping bag and, as an afterthought, put in an umbrella. I also put in the Filofax folder that goes along to meetings.

Despite the fresh snowfall last night the roads and pavements were clear. As I walked down the hill to the station a man came up the hill, sensibly muffled up against the cold, with a hood and balaclava hiding most of his face. Why was I surprised when he snatched my Liberty bag and ran off down a side road? This time I tried to hold on to it but there was no chance against him, and as I was only five minutes away from home I went straight back and called the police.

Travelling around in police cars looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack is becoming a bit of a habit. They came very quickly and drove me along the same roads that we’d searched in October, with the same lack of result. This time I was transferred into an unmarked car as well – the robbery squad – and both sets of police were great but it was unlikely that we would spot the thief.

And, will he develop a love of literature? I didn’t enjoy the book that much – the main characters were not endearing, although as their downfall became more apparent it was more interesting – but I did want to finish it. I went to the library this evening and reported its theft, giving my crime reference number as instructed. The librarian told me I would have to replace the book and claim on my insurance!

I’m not proud of the fact that I spoke rather sharply to the librarian, who had to get her supervisor. I am a great supporter of the library, which is under threat of closure; I’ve donated many books to it in the past. It’s the principle: why should I pay for something that I have not lost through carelessness? The last time I was robbed (see post on 13th October – that recent) I had to replace a rail card, and because I gave a crime reference number I did not have to pay for the replacement. The senior librarian suggested that I claim for the cost of the book on my insurance. Given that I pay an excess of at least £100 that would be ludicrous.

I got to the meeting, half an hour late because of the thief. I didn’t get a hat. It’s not been a good day.