Hilary looks after dogs. Not anybody’s dogs – she looks after dogs belonging to family and friends when they go on holiday or go away for work. It is not a business; she doesn’t charge kennel fees or anything but she does ask that they bring any special dietary requirements that the pooches might need. And of course they must bring their favourite toys and their bed. It is working well and she has five regular dogs and two waiting in the wings.
Sancho is her favourite. He was named after Don Quixote’s sidekick as the word spaniel comes from old French espagneul which translates as Spanish dog. Sancho is a cocker spaniel with identity issues. He thinks he is human. They watch TV together and Sancho sits beside her on the sofa where he sits back on his bottom with his front paws in the air. His particular favourite is the Grand Prix when Hilary can see his head going round and round and from side to side. Sancho is the most affectionate of all her visitors, he is the most licky and in summer Hilary does not wear open-toed sandals for fear of wet feet all day. Sancho belongs to Hilary’s son who lives some way away with his family.
Then there is Fiddler who belongs to a neighbour who often goes on tour with a small band where she is a violinist, hence the name Fiddler. Fiddler also has identity issues. He thinks he is a rabbit as he doesn’t run, he bounds. He also is very inquisitive, too inquisitive. One time he disturbed a hedgehog and came back to the house leaping and bounding and scratching and in obvious distress - fleas. It took a while with tweezers to get these little pests out – and a visit to the vet and expensive flea treatment.
Cicero is an elderly black Labrador. He is a proud, independent dog and Hilary reckons that he allows her to look after him, he makes the decisions. She is his choice of carer and he is the boss. He is a gentle giant but he is old and big and pulls when they walk so Hilary has bought this special sort of lead that grips the dog by the nose and it seems to work. Cicero does not like it but it stops his pulling and especially stops him pulling Hilary into heavy traffic when something interesting appears on the other side of the road.
Miggy is still a pup with needle teeth. But Hilary loves Miggy as he and she love cuddles. She scoops him up into her arms and he falls asleep. Fabulous. Miggy belongs to a cousin who lives miles away but who is prepared to bring young Miggy to Hilary as she knows he will be well looked after – and there are no kennel fees.
Unfortunately, word has got around that Hilary looks after dogs for free and she gets calls from people she doesn’t know. Sometimes these calls are heart rending, especially when the owners say that unless she can take their dog (or dogs!) they will have to be put down. So far Hilary has been able to resist these temptations. With these new responsibilities she is starting to enjoy her life again, including her dog-free time, and does not want to be overwhelmed by canine cuties no matter how gorgeous they might be.
Another regular canine companion is Diego, a Belgian Shepherd. He is huge and hairy and he moults everywhere in clumps. Hilary collects all his moultings and is making a pillow for her visitors. He too is a gentle giant; he is not bothered by other dogs when they go out walking and he loves it when anybody gives him affection. Diego’s history is that he was a rescue dog from Romania and Hilary wonders about his early years which were probably not happy or safe years.
But when Diego yawns he looks just like a wolf and reminds Hilary of Little Red Riding Hood
“All the better to eat you with my dear!”
His rows of huge teeth are really quite alarming but so far all they have attacked are Bonios.
Her two dogs in waiting are Acorn who has just had six beautiful pups so it will be a while before she can visit, and Inky who will come when she is less destructive. Inky has a particular liking for wooden edges, like those on doors and skirting boards and tables and chairs. “A few more months” thinks Hilary.
Hilary is a widow. Darling Harry died five years ago after three years where he was looked after at home by Hilary. He had cancer, although this should be plural: he had a number of cancers. Hilary cared for him day and night. He had a hospital bed at home and Hilary slept next to him for three years on a futon on the floor. When he went into hospital she went with him and brought him home as soon as they would allow. For three years Hilary hardly ever went out but she had marvellous support from friends and family towards whom she feels enormous gratitude. It was their support that enabled Hilary and their son Michael to give Harry some contentment in his final months.
Hilary and Harry had been a match made in heaven. They met and were married within two months and they had over forty years of marital happiness. They had one son; to their dismay other children did not come along, but Michael, their only child, was a delight and still is. During his dad’s illness he came home and took over as often as he could. Michael was the only other person, apart from the medics, to whom Hilary would entrust Harry’s final days. Harry died in Hilary’s arms with Michael holding both parents’ hands. It was a peaceful and very emotional death but in a kind and loving sort of way.
But after Harry’s death Hilary found that she was without purpose, without function and without any reason to get up in the morning. Hilary herself was fit and healthy and she struggled with this emptiness. Harry had been her function and purpose for so long that it was difficult adjusting to life without him. Hilary also found that when on her own at home she was without love and companionship. That was her biggest loss. For a few months life was very difficult for Hilary, she felt she was contributing to nothing, she was giving nothing – these were months in which Hilary grieved.
It was Michael’s idea that his mum look after Sancho from time to time. After his dad’s death Michael had discussed with his wife that a dog might help his mum, not so much to move on but to cope better with her loss. “Not a puppy,” was his wife’s immediate response. “They poo and wee too much.”
“And she is not having Sancho,” came from under the table where Sancho and their daughter were playing quietly. Their daughter, Esme, was giving Sancho a pedicure – his nails on his back paws were orange and those on his front paws were blue. The red ribbon around his neck was the perfect colour next to his russet colouring.
“But perhaps we could start off with her having Sancho when we go on holiday. You know how much he hates kennels”
This comment was aimed under the table and it led to a nod from Esme followed by “OK – but he has to come home afterwards.”
And that was how it started. Sancho was Hilary’s first canine companion, her first foster dog. Sancho was the first who helped to bring back a bit of function, purpose, enjoyment and companionship into her life. And of course, she had to go out as these wonderful visitors needed regular walks where she met other dogs and their owners - instant short term companionship. With dogs there are no opportunities to sit around with memories, happy or otherwise
However, in no way could these four legged canine creatures replace darling Harry but they did help her to cope with the huge emptiness, huge nothingness, that had suddenly come into her life after years of a life that was so full in so many ways. Life would never be as good as it had been for Hilary but there was now, due to her canine pals, most certainly progress towards a happier life.
About the author
Judith Skilleter is new to writing fiction after a long career in social work and teaching. Her first children's novel The April Rebellion, has recently been published. Judith is a Geordie, who settled in East Yorkshire forty-five years ago and is married with four grandchildren.
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