He was the last of the original ‘Dog Hollow’ pack. Yesterday afternoon, Gizmo slipped peacefully away to join Macgyver, Rupert, Jordi and his beloved Evee. Back in 2010, I took on a 2 year old, tiny whirlwind of Yorkshire Terrier after his owner decided she didn’t want him and with a change of name, Gizmo became Evee’s ‘other half’ and Tony’s little buddy. It took a while to find the feisty, intelligent, fun-loving terrier inside. Up until he joined us, Gizmo had been either left in a seventh floor apartment with no access to a garden or stuffed in a doggy handbag to be paraded around ladies’ luncheons. He was terrified of the outside world but Evee took him under her wing and taught him the delights of barking at birds, chasing tennis balls and sunbathing on the back terrace in South London. Bought at Harrods, he wasn’t the healthiest of specimens and suffered most of his life with a sensitive tum but that never stopped him from living life to the full – even when he got a piece of carrot stuck in his oesophagus and ended up at The Royal Veterinary Hospital inches from choking to death. After Evee died in 2021, he lost some of that spark but still took to lying out in the sun whenever the opportunity arose but age crept up on him quickly. His sight deteriorated and then dementia started to kick in but ultimately it was a likely cerebral stroke that made the decision to say goodbye inevitable. Denis and I stayed with him until he closed his eyes for the last time. He was almost 15 years old.
I hate to say it but the rest of the Woofers don’t appear to have noticed that one of their members is no longer with us. Mind you, they have been somewhat spoilt this past week as everyone came back to work after the Christmas break -much barking and tail- wagging has ensued. Poor Nick (a dab hand at pretty much everything and considering he once bit him, Neo’s best friend) had to contend with having his face licked off and tools repositioned down the garden whilst he tiled the lower part of my kitchen island. Max the chauffagiste returned from his skiing trip, thankfully in one piece, much to the delight of Arry who finds Max’s eternally ebullient personality right up his street. Unfortunately Max still can’t get the thermostats to work as the walls in the boiler room are too thick for an internet connection, something that I have commented on several times but on deaf ears it seems. At least the weather is still thinking its September so we haven’t needed the radiators on full blast but that in itself is causing a worry. If we don’t get some decent frosty weather soon, the garden is going to get very confused and starting budding everywhere instead of hibernating until Spring.
Speaking of coming out of hibernation, we finally moved the old, and in desperate need of repair, red tractor into the carport so it can be restored to its former glory. Apart from the fact that it had become a bit of an eyesore rusting away under the sapin, I wanted it put away so that Denis would have something to keep him busy whilst he recovers from his hernia op this coming Tuesday. Although in her heyday, she could do the work of ten men or more, shifting the mangled mass of machinery that Callum had retrieved from the river at L’Horte after the last big flood in 2018, wasn’t an easy task. The first few attempts at trying to tow this broken one with our working tractor didn’t even shift a wheel and neither Lionel or Denis could figure out how to get the handbrake off so the bloody thing refused to budge an inch. Eventually my guy had a light bulb moment and sped (can you ‘sped’ in a tractor?) around the back of the small but once mighty Massey Ferguson circa 1970 and with the help of Lionel and Nick, pushed her into the carport. The whole debacle provided much amusement for me as I attempted to untangle the lights I’d removed from the exterior Christmas decor (no doubt the fairies will make sure they are once again tangled in about 11 months time) – boys and their toy tractors. Eventually both tractors will reside in the almost completed new home in the former chicken coop at the end of the property.
With the last of the big jobs done in the garden, at least until the Spring, I’m feeling a little flat. There is loads to do inside the house, we have a few more rooms to create for a start but I miss not being busy outside. There is always of course, The Book Part 2 to get my tap tapping into but I’m not feeling very motivated. The Book Part 1 is waiting for the photos to be organised and the cover design finished so it makes sense to concentrate on its sequel. I think Callum was right when he said, as we chatted over the phone earlier today, the first is a rollercoaster of a journey but the second is more of a gentle meander. And I’m not very good at meandering. Still, as someone I’m sure once quoted, it won’t write itself so I must go and power up the old keyboard and flex those fingers…
“To call him a dog hardly seems to do him justice, though inasmuch as he had four legs, a tail, and barked, I admit he was, to all outward appearances. But to those who knew him well, he was a perfect gentleman.” (Hermione Gingold, actress).
Widow plus woofs 