“I am a collie dog – and I can run, and run, and run all day...............”

Our beloved MurphyMutt took his heritage very seriously. He was a Border Collie dog, and collies are loyal, and responsible, and collies are bred to run all day.


As a mature ‘rescued’ dog, he was a chap with a past – and we shall never know quite what that history held. That he ‘had issues’ is beyond question, but he was such an honest dog that for these there were probably good reasons buried deep in that past.



Over the last few weeks he had slowed down a bit – it seemed likely to be the heat, it was getting to me, and he was an old dog, after all........ but TH felt there was more..... and when I thought about it, I had to agree that he was probably right........



The vet agreed he was looking basically ok.......... but his temperature was way, way up..... this was not only unexpected, but indicated we had a very ill dog, even tho he didn’t look it..........



Over the next week his experienced but perplexed vet tried industrial doses of each and every medication that could reasonably be expected to bring his fever down.....his bloods were essentially ok, but his liver function was deteriorating....we gave him ice cubes in his drinking water, and he was thrilled to be allowed more ice cream than any dog should ever EVER eat....... but each day his temperature was a little higher.... to a level beyond that where he should have been fitting........... he just looked a little more apologetic...... and increasingly weary....... he was no longer managing to jump accurately into the car........ he stopped eating his most favourite treat of an apple....... and then, on Tuesday, dog food became too much effort to eat, and we knew there could be no more hope....... and his temperature was even higher - now 107.5...... and tho he was still clearly enjoying cat treats, and taking them oh, so very, very gently, we knew that time had run out ........... such a fine, brave dog should not be expected to have to stay with us any longer.



The time had come to allow him rest.



Our beloved collie dog, who had just spent 20 minutes padding round the local park, walking, and walking, and walking....... who would not stop....... doggedly placing one foot in front of the other, and holding in his head and in his heart “I am a collie dog, and I can run, and run, and run all day..............” .

......... and now, at last, he can run easily...... and free......... in Elysian fields.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Miss Madcap Moe ( R.I.P. 28/05/2010 )

An’ THEN there wuz TWO........

ChickPea came in from work tonight, went out to let the three chookies out for a run around....... two dashed out of the run, off to create havoc .... but no bonny Madcap Moe .........

When she wasn’t in the run this morning, I thought, “she must be broody” – she’s been in the nestbox a LOT recently – she was this morning – and, just as usual, MOST indignant when I peeked in on her – fluffed her feathers and made that wee “How dare you look at me when I’m busy doing this!” squeakycheep sound .......... but no – no Moe in the nestbox.......... so – where on earth had she gone ? ............ and there she was ......... in the run, underneath the raised henhouse,  dead as a sad dead thing............... but she had laid us an egg this morning and had been running around, pecking and scratching with the best of them and happy as a Happy Thing just four hours ago..........

What a shock.  So soon after our Eena.................       

Bless her.  We shall miss our wee Mottled Madcap Miss Moe...........

And then there were three..........

Eena, one of our first two hens, and the most interactive of our flock of four, developed The Dwindles ........ She just wasn’t quite right. Eating – but not as enthusiastically as the others. Scratching around – but not with the degree of endeavour that is the hallmark of a healthy hen. Only three eggs from the four of them for several weeks – but with all four being brown egg layers, we were sure that either Myna or Moe – or both of them – the youngers of the four - were the erratic layers.

We searched the internet ........ no signs or symptoms of being eggbound......... nor fully consistent with impacted crop.......... no evidence of abdominal distension, so seemed unlikely to be peritonitis....... and more.....and more.... loads of horrible problems that just didn’t seem to quite fit the picture........... they have grit...... they get greens........ they get corn (not too much)....... they get out for exercise.........

We brought her into the house for a few nights and she perked up......... for a while. We discovered that there were still three eggs each day, so realised it was Eena that was not laying. But she was now eating a bit more and seemed keen to be back with the others......... and keeping out of reach in case she got banished to the house again.........

Last Friday evening, despite still running fast enough to almost evade capture, she was looking less good........ she had evidently lost a LOT of weight (not that she has ever been either large or heavy). Vet Time. But no appointment available until Monday, and no indication that she needed emergency attention..........

Today is Monday. TH took her in, and I guess we both knew she’d not be coming back. The vet was very good – he has a lot of experience behind him from owning chickens himself, as well as professional expertise. Chickens, apparently, do not really do either ‘a bit poorly’, nor recover with treatment. If they seem ‘a bit off colour’ they are deteriorating, and can take a long time to reach the end, not showing signs of pain and extremely unlikely to respond to medications. He couldn’t diagnose the cause at that point – just that she was not a well chicken, and was not likely to respond to any attempts at treatment. Autopsy revealed severe egg peritonitis (retention of yolks in the body cavity), confirming the terminal nature of the situation, so revealing that quick, effective, and thereby kind dispatch had been the only humane option.

As essentially newbie chook keepers we had both been concerned that we were maybe failing to provide adequate care, or missing some clear signs to which we should have responded. Knowledge usually comes through a learning experience. We now know what to do next time a chook starts The Dwindles. Hope that’ll be ages away. They may be ‘just chooks’, but they’re part of our family.

Ms Mog – R.I.P.

My beloved feline friend died this afternoon. She had lived with me and shared my life for longer than I lived with my own parents. Arriving in my flat as a tiny black kitten, just six weeks old, she could sit on my hand with all four feet and a tidily curled tail – and continued to try and do so for months after she outgrew my palm. She then became a rebellious teenager – and she withdrew bodily contact during daylight hours – objecting with tooth and claw if I transgressed her decision. But in the middle of the night, when her feet got cold, she would creep onto my bed and snuggle close. I had to wait until she was seven years old before she would again allow me to pick her up, or accept a cuddle.

She tolerated TH coming into our lives. He was allergic to cat fur in those days – not a promising start to our new relationship. He had never known any cats, admitted a certain dislike. Tolerance would be a positive achievement between them. But, astonishingly, over the intervening years he has developed tolerance to Ms Mog’s fur – though most other cats will still trigger an allergic reaction. And the initial ‘Tolerance’ became ‘Respect’, and then companionship.

Ms Mog loved moving to this house, with the garden. During the first week, we were breakfasting on the back lawn, and a streak of grey followed by black dashed past our feet – Ms Mog chasing the local squirrel as fast as she could, and faster than she believed possible – we both saw the look in her eyes that said “I hope I don’t catch up with it......”

Today is about three months short of her 20^th birthday – an astonishing lifetime, given that she had twice been rescued from The Brink – about eight years ago and again about four years later. She has been nearing this end point for more than long enough – but each time we asked her The Big Question, she smiled gently, and said “Ok, so I’m old, and a bit creaky, but I’m fine - where’s the food ?” She hated vets – with a pathological hatred which increased as she got older - and she made me promise four years ago that we would not push her on before she was ready to go – she was determined – so determined – to make that decision herself. I got home at lunchtime today, and she was clearly nearing The Time – we would have to Take Steps when TH got home with the car. But though now so drowsy, with her breathing getting irregular, she seemed very comfortable and settled on my lap – but getting colder - so we sat in her beloved conservatory in the sunshine. When this fantastic addition to our house was being built, Miss Mog would creep out every evening and inspect every detail of the day’s progress, and somehow made sure she marked her ownership of the enterprise by leaving her footprints for posterity in the concrete floor.

My wee feisty black feline always loved lying in the sun, and even though she was getting further from us, today was no exception. She relaxed in the sunshine, stretching gently...... and with a wee smile she gently slipped away before TH got home - she evaded The Vet just like she wanted.

Beloved pet. We have missed her so much as she has gradually withdrawn from our lives – she decided to be an Upstairs Cat about three years ago, demanding a waitress service for her meals, and waking us up for cuddles when she felt lonely in the wee sma’ hours. But frail though she had become, her voice was as insistent as ever when she decided it was her suppertime. She was still very much a part of the household, and her presence continually enriched our lives.

Now, at last, she rests in peace, and we must get used to the resultant emptiness.

The Big Dipper

Yup. ‘Life’. Roulette Wheel. Or Rollercoaster without much fun. ChickPea wishes apologies expressed as her blogging has been somewhat neglected of late. Too much of the ‘Rain’ stuff, too many job applications, much too little positive affirmation, and no interviews………..

Sunday was a bit of a rollercoaster – big service a.m. to celebrate the end of the Church Year with ‘Christ the King’ as the Front Page Headline. Then the AGM. (Happened. No bloodshed. No Public Floggings. Not exactly ‘fun’ – but it was an AGM after all…… ). Then ChickPea was off to an exam….. a kind of ‘first interview’ with the DWP (Dept of Work & Pensions…….)……Don’t think she’d gotten around to telling you about this one……

ChickPea hates – but HATES and LOATHES ‘maths’…… maybe somehow related to her ‘Class 4’ primary teacher who got locked up for child abuse a few years later. She doesn’t remember much of that year or class. Except that THAT was when maths became really scary. Like terrifying. And ‘tables’ became taboo. Suffice to say that ‘maths is not her favourite activity’. So she has been avoiding maths. She knows she CAN do it, especially when it is necessary, and there’s a reason for it, and, let’s be honest, most jobs need a bit, but that she can handle ok. But she doesn’t like having to prove it. So if ‘financial’ or similar appears in the advert, ChickPea….er….sidesteps.

But about 2 weeks ago was the ‘3 months’ Unemployed Point/ Jobcentre Interview’……. I guess it was fairly gentle really. More gentle than ChickPea expected. But her current allowance (which stops in January anyway, as assessed on her 2006 contributions…….. yup, despite 28 years continuous fulltime working and full contributions, 2006 was when she stopped after 6 months to care for DJ……..) – said allowance can be stopped early if The Interviewer thought she’s not ‘all out’ to get a job……… so when she was……um……’encouraged’ to apply for a DWP vacancy, ‘choice’ was not really a relevant word………..

Anyway…….. let’s gloss over Sunday afternoon, noting that failing an exam juggling with numbers, several charts and percentages – despite working as conscientiously, honestly and as carefully as possible, but still only getting through eleven of the twenty questions in the Time Allowed – was not an Affirming Life Experience for ChickPea……… quite the opposite. Empty and Demoralized, yes. To spend precious time in a such a No Win Situation was frustrating. (If she failed, it was a bummer for the self-confidence and morale. If she succeeded, she might get a job, but maths would be an ever-present requirement…… To deliberately Flunk Out would destroy any Personal Integrity…….).

Anyway, Integrity and Honesty Triumphed, but Failure Won. Congratulations ChickPea !

A wet and cold walk back to a preferred/warm/welcoming/newspapered environment for an extravagant G & T (nothing like a place and staff you know well when you have to say, “ok, what’s cheapest, a glass of wine or a G&T ?” !!) and a chilling-out moment with a sparse tear or two.

So, ChickPea was most grateful for the distractions of pre-service ceilidh preparations, a humdinger of an evensong (despite our rend ition of Stanford’s Canticles in E flat….. a new foray into the …..er…… realms of the unknown region…….) for the Bishop’s Celebrations, and then high jiggers in the aisles to round off the day. Even Fun looked in to join the party. Wow. Some day.

But more was to follow. ChickPea had made a phonecall on Friday in response to a local job advert found via the jobcentre on Friday. A lovely receptionist took her name, and said there’d be a followup phonecall on Monday or Tuesday. And on Monday/yesterday there was a phonecall – about a job THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CITY ! - and an invite to interview on Wednesday / TOMORROW ! No application form, no CV…….. no job description !!! (MOST bizarre ! – but watch this space ! “A job’s a job for a’ that” to make a mis-quote…….)

A Rollercoaster of a day......

ChickPea and Mr Mutt were awaiting TH’s emergence from his place of employment this afternoon, so to pass the time (and because she’s only just discovered this unexpected aspect/resultant requirement of her mobile phone), ChickPea was ‘deleting sent messages’ ……… months’ and months’ and months’ worth………so there was heaps of stuff relating to DJ. Fairly ‘tame stuff’ maybe, but it was still unexpected, and more of a shock than anticipated.

Bereavement is like that, isn’t it. Just when you think you’re moving on, something grabs you by the ankle.

There’s a lot of this kind of stuff around in ChickPea’s day to day life at the moment, not least because her own Dad was dying slowly in the extreme south of England at the same time that DJ was moving into residence with her and TH in Scotland. So ‘Dad loss’ has been a compound experience spanning somewhat more than these five or so years. And I guess there’ll be yet more to reach the surface – as it does, and as it must.

Meantime, a very dear pal is living thru the heartache of losing a beloved pet who has been close friend and companion, and supported both heart and sanity thru recent divorce. Initial survival of pet was precarious about ten days back – apparent progress seemed to offer hope, and got pet home and seeming recovering – but now the blood tests show a hopeless outcome just a few days away. As Ms Mog is almost nineteen, and slowly but steadily fading away (tho still appears content, enjoying her food and occupying most of the bed all day - and much of it all night), ChickPea and TH feel very very aware of pal’s sadness.

And then, this evening, surprise, surprise – invitation to an ‘initial interview’ ! On Thursday. Yes – just three days’ time! Hardly time to draw breath. After recent knockbacks and several non-replies, one of the Jobseeking efforts of last week is daring look at ChickPea in the flesh ! Cor. Gosh…….. (panic)

Now, the chances of her getting to the next step may be most unlikely – and much as she had been thinking of part time hours, “five-going-on-fifty-something” is kinda young for green fields and horseplay – and maybe a change of direction into a satisfying employment course will need not only personal commitment but time dedicated to achieving change…….. At the very very least, another interview will be another most useful experience, and even just getting invited to interview is dead good for the morale, and … who knows what the future may hold ? She’s been saying she wants “to do something different”, and has been doing ‘head level’ reinventions of herself after all, and ambitious job applications ……. so will this chicken come home to roost ? ………..

It Takes Time

“It takes time. Aye………..it certainly does.”
“And what’s that, then ?”
“Oh – you know”.

Lots of things. Loads of things, even. Waiting for Christmas……for paint to dry…..…for yeast to rise when you’re making bread…… for a cake to cook…….. time to gather together the ingredients for a risotto…….. or for a soufflé, come to that.

And time for the bereavement process to lumber along……….

ChickPea thought she’d finished blogging the other night. Guess she had, kindof. Had finally published that post that Started Before, But Wouldn’t Finish…….( it just wasn’t cooked – somehow it wasn’t ‘complete’…… but HOW to finish it ? – What else did it need ? ………. so it sat, and festered ……… ok, ok – it MATURED)………..

And then, earlier that night, there came an almighty kick to the buttparts, and ChickPea realized that A Most Significant Post had not yet been written. Time had slipped by. And For Life To Be OK, It Needed To Be Written……… but ….. How On Earth Would It Start ?

I’m sure you’ve been there …… writing a book…..a postcard……. a sermon…… a letter……a blog post….…. The Wish is there, but The Muse hides in a cupboard somewhere……..(presumably a-mused)…..

And suddenly, Light Dawns…. (the chooks start muttering to themselves = the clockwork brain starts to move )…. and Then You Realize It’s Already There….. And Waiting….. Biding Its Time..… Waiting Till The Time Is Right……

And when that time has finally arrived, it can happen that the words just appear on the screen, and it all makes sense somehow – and if it’s not exactly right immediately, you kinda know which re-wording is The One To Keep…..

So ChickPea wuz kinda chuffed that Things Had Fallen Into Place. And, moreover, apparently, into an appropriate – even ‘right’ – place. Peace had been made. Life was ok. TH was in bed with his bug, and some NightNurse (no – not plural….) ….and was hopefully asleep….. At Last…….and hopefully thru till morning this time.

Then ChickPea took Mr Mutt out for his Late Night Constitutional. Whereupon another cupboard door opened, and out crept ‘Bereavemment’ in his best finery. Well, second-best finery. (‘Thankfully’ was right behind him, and distracted him a little, allowing ChickPea space ). Nonetheless, the two of them dogged her footsteps. And the bright bubble aftermath of blogging Was No More…….

To outwit The Descending Cloud, ChickPea Pondered……

Bereavement cannot, after all, be (successfully) outrun, out-manoeuvred or otherwise evaded. If you get a headstart, it will still catch you up. If you are very quick on your feet, you may think you’ve won….. but it still catches you up………eventually. Probably At An Inopportune Moment. If you grab it by the lapels and make it sit down, thinking that at least you know where it is, it will get up and Take You By Surprise when you least expect it…...

No, the only REAL, effective way is to accept it into your life for the time it takes, accept it as a guest, hopefully bringing some good memories but accepting the myriad tears and regrets and sadness………

No, you cannot evade Bereavement……… so allow it in, give it a cup of tea and a piece of cake, sit down with it, if you can, when you can, and accept the visit……

Dearest DJ. R.I.P.

We knew we were nearing this time, but expected ‘the day and the hour’ to be a while away yet. We were wrong.

Thankfully we had visited him in his Respite accommodation most days over last week, and had spent much of Sunday afternoon with him out in the sunshine in their garden. Though dozing much of the time, he clearly enjoyed both his own and my tea and egg custard pies, and surprised us with an appreciative comment regarding the roses. (He spent many years in his own garden, and cultivated beautiful roses which gave both him and his wife such joy). He was settled, appeared comfortable and at peace. This reportedly continued after we left. He enjoyed his supper and a later snack, and was sitting quietly in the communal lounge, apparently dozing in accustomed fashion.

But he had slipped away to The Next Realm. He had been so ready and waiting – and so impatient - to Go for so, so long.

May he Rest In Peace.