Before you think white coats and wrap around sleeves, I’m sure I’m not the only person who has in-depth conversations with their dog(s). You can learnt a lot from a dog as a one such exchange shows:

Me: “Arry, you’ve just been out the back”

Arry: “I need to go out”

I open the back door, Arry races through two circuits of the back garden; “Yay! This is the best day ever!!!”

Arry races into the kitchen and I close the back door. I find Arry behind me

Me: “You’ve just come back in”

Arry: “I have? I need to go out”

I open the back door and Arry races up the path full pelt; “this is the best day everrrrr!!”

As I close the back door, he shoots into the kitchen. I love how he sees life. And I wish I could be a ‘balls up in the air’ sort of personality instead of someone who feels the need to organise her Sunday even though it’s her day off. I tell everyone how excited I am about moving and starting over in who-knows-where next year but secretly I’m a little terrified. In my head I see a tortoise sticking her head out of her shell and rapidly retreating back in.

It is a subject that often creeps into conversation with friends, moving out of the big smoke that is. I guess it’s partly because many of us are at a certain age when the kids have grown up and work is no longer as exciting as it was a decade ago. We complain about the noise, the pollution, the traffic, the crime. And yet we stay because we are comfortable in our world. At least until something tips over the cart. One gal pal asked me if I felt I was running away from my problems. Nope I replied, I’m going to find new ones. I half-jokingly told her that I was going to move to Costa Rica to save trees to which she retorted ” they have flesh-eating bugs there”. Actually I wouldn’t go as I’m scared of flying but that’s by the by.

Two encounters this week gave me the inner boost I needed to get the rest of my body out of the shell. When people find out that you are a widow, they often tell you about their own tragedies. One was a lovely lady who was going through a divorce she didn’t want but her husband did. For someone who had the love of her Tony for 28 years, I couldn’t imagine how she felt but she admired my confidence to move on. The other chance meeting broke my heart. The chap delivering some hire equipment mentioned he had passed my house for many years in his job and I threw in a comment about selling it with a brief bit of the widow story with a side of ‘I don’t like London anymore’ kind of chat. Once again he admired my courage to move on as he hadn’t been able to since his son was murdered two years ago, a wrong place wrong time knife victim. Words seemed superfluous until he mentioned how much his dog helped him. Someone to talk to he said. Dogs are funny like that…..

“It is one of his most charming traits that he thinks visibly” (Edward Verrall Lucas. English esaayist)

Those experienced in the practice of yoga will know and love the word ‘shavasana’ (also known as corpse pose- think of those cartoonish black body shapes). It’s a sort of combined relaxation and meditation position done at the end of a class, time to drift off in my case and let the mind wander through the mind’s forest. The dogs know better than to disturb Mum when she’s lying flat on her back with limbs spread out lest they get poked with an angry finger. However, this week’s yoga flow has been somewhat interrupted by a very annoying ear worm.

A recent interview with a well-known but far too young to be giving life advice actress caused the wiggle.. Having been through a couple of relationships which obviously hadn’t lasted the distance, she stated that she was now in a ‘self-partnership’. The word has been bugging me all week. Apart from the endless need by celebrities and the media to ‘label’ status to make it sound unique to the 21st century, it also sound a bit selfish to me. Whilst I had no choice in becoming a widow and I’m not ready to get involved in another relationship, I don’t think of myself as the above. It sounds very lonely to me and I’m definitely not lonely. Apart from being surrounded by the best of friends and family, I have 10 woofers who never fail to remind me that a life is best shared with dog hair.

A close friend and one of equal living alone but with fur balls situation, put our positions into perspective. He said the reason why we are happy in our current state is because we have self-confidence and that in turn stops us from feeling lonely or worried about labels. Learning to have that self-confidence for me has been part of my widow’s journey and I’m proud of myself for that. If someone had told me last year that I would be about to put the house on the market and leave Dog Hollow with absolutely no idea of where or what lies ahead in the year to come, I would have assumed they were referring to someone else. Whilst I will never use such a pretentious word as ‘self-partnered’, I am becoming more comfortable with me, myself and I. Plus 10.

“Dogs got personality. Personality goes a long way.” (Quentin Tarantino)

William Shakespeare wrote; “A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow” . Well, it certainly summed up the past week’s socialising. If I was totally honest, I can’t party like I did at 35 now I’m 53 but with friends like mine, I’d do it all over again. It is testament to them that this, my 2nd year celebrating my birthday without T, wasn’t going to go quietly and I thank them for it. I cannot describe the feeling of knowing I had a lie in however when I crawled under the covers last night. Laughter may be the best medicine (I certainly over dosed on that) but sleep has to be a close second.

Surprisingly, I’m not the least bit depressed about turning 53. For a start, my menopausal journey is just about over (yay!) and I’m about to start a new adventure in the year to come. Mind you, a visit to the optician last week did miff me just a tad. She asked me if I had started using the prescription driving glasses yet and I had to admit I hadn’t simply because I didn’t feel comfortable with them; ” Wear them around the house until you get used to them” she said, then she added ” you’re still just about within the legal limit to be driving without them”. Not exactly an advert for age-defining beauty then.

There is a rather nice thing about having a Hallowe’en birthday, once the witchy decorations are taken out of the shops, sickly festive pop takes over. Christmas is coming and I’m a Christmas nut. I’m already stock-piling the charity catalogues, perusing through the various pre-season online sales and checking my mother-in-laws cake recipe. I’ve been to the vet and checked that Arry, Alice and Yogi Bear have up to date passports (one small blessing about the delay to the B word) and booked the Eurotunnel. Judging by the excessive display of baubles and faux evergreen in the local DIY store, I’m just worried I’m running behind……

Despite my love of warm weather, I think Autumn has to be my favourite time of year. There is something about the nights drawing in, the early morning nip in the air and nature’s stunning display of reds and golds through the trees. Between the social buzz of the summer and the chaos of Christmas, the few months in between give me space to pause and relax. And the dogs love it too. Without the constant in and out of boarding dogs, they get Mum time and I’m sure my ambient mood adds to their good spirits. Chasing each other through the thick bed of leaves underfoot and the bombardment of kamikaze squirrels, a dog’s life is pretty good right now. The only downside is the amount of outside that they bring inside, a white walled extension was probably not the best idea.

Perhaps it is my current state of mind or perhaps my love of the autumnal months that brings out reflection. Tony loved the change of season, I think mainly because the football started again but he always preferred cooler weather. It’s also the time when we went on holiday although those got rarer as life got busier. Some of my best memories however are of those trips abroad, Tony loved flying unlike me but the destination was always worth it. Maybe one day, I’ll revisit some of those places but for the moment, I’m happy to let the thoughts flow over me like a warm blanket.

Despite the inclement weather (someone up there really needs to put the plug back in), it looks like the forecast is for clearer skies and colder days. Now that I’m solely in charge of the heating, the house is lovely and toasty and the extension allows for so much more light throughout the day. I’ve dug out the turtlenecks, dusted off the woollen hats and untangled the scarves. I’ve yet however to find one matching pair of gloves and Alice has already chewed through one pair of furry boots. Still it’s my birthday next week, you know the day that everyone celebrates by dressing up in ridiculous costumes and eating their body weight in sugar? And I turn 35 backwards. And I’m looking forward to it. Autumn, the woofers and me….

“The greatest pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him, and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself, too” (Samuel Butler)

I never do anything by halves. It’s a failing of mine. Once I’ve made my mind up about something, I tend to jump out of the proverbial plane without checking the parachute and immediately have doubts about the decision. However, since my resolution to start life afresh elsewhere, I haven’t regretted any of the last weeks events. Well, mostly.

Patience is a virtue I’m told but it’s one I’ve never had much of. Unfortunately for me and despite my itchy feet ( if the dogs could talk they would say itchy paws), there’s nothing I can do that will make the next few months go any quicker. In a somewhat heated meeting with my business partners, I suggested it might be better for them if they removed my details from the website as I would be leaving at the end of the year. Well, they did. The next day. And suddenly I felt completely adrift. After 22 years with Dog Hollow, I was wiped off the face of dog training just like that as if I never existed. Of course I had a twinge of hurt, I did think I might get a send-off of sorts but I made the jump and frankly, perhaps I needed the push. One less thing to worry about.

The wonderful thing about sharing my life with Arry, Alice, Danny Boy, Simi, Yogi Bear, Neo, Mo, Coco, Gizmo and Evee is their ability to make me focus on why itchy paws are a good thing. And thanks to a couple of equally excited friends and their daily web links to gorgeous (and hopefully affordable) country properties, I can dream happily of wellies and happy woofers in the not too distant future. Walking in the local park a couple of days ago, I watched as my little Neo chased a ball even though he couldn’t pick it up. The reason? He’s worn a muzzle in public for the last 6 years (most of his life) as he has a aversion to joggers or passers-by thinking he’s a really sweet looking dog. For him, space to run freely would be the biggest dream of all.

“To a dog the whole world is a smell” (Anon)

If last week was spent building mountains out of molehills, this one was all about flattening them. And I went in with a bulldozer. Sitting up those ‘poor me’ mountains was making me not only paranoid about what ills were going to befall me next but pessimistic too. Time to wake up and do a few cartoonish slaps around the face, all those changes I’ve been see-sawing around ? Need to get sorted.

I’ve decided that 2020 is definitely the year to move. Having umm’d and aah’d about what to do with my widow life, I now know that I have to start afresh if I’m ever going to feel settled again. There is a simmer of excitement in my belly although that could be down to nerves too. I’ve lived in the same house for 24 years, the first and only house we had as a married couple and been part of a successful business in London for almost as long. But it’s definitely time to go.

I went over to see one of my closest friends last night. Big decisions are best shared with those who listen but don’t judge. And are always honest. One of the comments she made really hit home. “Soph” she said, “it’s like having kids. At some point they are going to grow up and fly the nest and make their own way in life”. My house needs a new family now and the business needs to grow with the times. As I am leaving the latter at the end of the year, it only makes sense that I cut my ties with both. My worries about leaving friends behind have been put to rest by our Larrie who concluded that we could put the world to rights over a bottle or two anywhere.

So where to next? I have had extensive conversations with the dogs as I doubt Callum will want to live with his mum forever. The dogs however will ultimately decide what abode fits. Much as I would love to live by the sea, I don’t think my budget will stretch that far unless I move to the Outer Hebrides where a certain little chihuahua and I would freeze. Being an active canine family, they need room to run and I do have a romantic notion of galloping paws across the dunes whilst I walk barefooted through the shallow surf pondering my next bestseller. Hey, a girl can dream can’t she?

“ Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole” (Roger Caras)

I must apologise for the lateness in getting my weekly words posted but for once I didn’t have a lazy Sunday lie in followed by an indulgent breakfast. Instead I went to a lecture at the University of Surrey’s Veterinary College on (deep breath) ‘Tackling Inherited Orthopaedic problems in Dogs'(and release breath). I know, get me, all studious and such but the truth is I was invited by a dear friend and I didn’t exactly read the correct time on the email. Still I went and despite getting horrendously lost on campus, I eventually managed to turn up only half an hour late (is it me or are University campuses expanding into minor cities these days?) and sat down to listen to eminent boffins of the veterinary field blow my mind.

Can I just point out that the last time I sat in a lecture hall was probably when I was actually a student over 20 years ago? And I wasn’t very good at concentrating then so it’s hardly surprising I haven’t improved with age. I wonder if the same applies to the well-known veterinary surgeon who was having a lovely snooze in the seat adjacent to mine, genetic phenotypes must be his meditation mantra. I did however manage to catch up with a colleague who I haven’t seen in a few years, it’s funny how our first questions were about how our respective canines were doing and I still don’t know if she has any kids. Luckily I managed to sneak out at lunchtime and pedal to the metal down the motorway home, I missed my Sunday snuggles with my four -legged fuzz-balls.

Needless to say, I have been doing a lot of pondering and building mountains out of molehills this week. Lecture halls are designed for this purpose I would venture, that’s why they are designed with comfy seating. I need to make changes in my life but the question is how big should I go? Career wise, I’m not worried as I have my secret projects lined up for the year ahead but should I stay or should I go? I love chez Knollys but it really is too much house for one person and let’s face it, the monthly bills read like a comedy sketch. But then I worry about all I would leave behind and what if I didn’t like where I moved to? But if I moved I could get somewhere more manageable and some acreage for the dogs to romp in without the worry of having to sneak more than 6 dogs into the local park. Will I make new friends and will those I leave behind stay buddies? Perhaps I shouldn’t have left the symposium so quickly, I could have brain-stormed all my niggles and caught up on my sleep before the start of the working week. That vet had the right idea…

“One of the reasons why dogs are given credit for serious thinking is the formation of their eyebrows” (Robert Benchley. Writer)

If there was ever a week that could test my sobriety and self-esteem, it’s been this past one. From my Dad being put into an induced coma after a major op to Neo nipping my painter (who was very gracious about it, thank you Tom) , I’m frankly amazed with myself for not burying my angst in a bottle. Without Tony’s shoulder to lean on and his calm voice of reasoning, I have had to find another way to relieve myself of the worry worms so I have taken on a D.I.Y project. Stop laughing. I would like to note that part of my widow’s journey is learning that there is a word called budget in the dictionary and no-one likes a text that says you are about to be charged for daring to use your authorised overdraft.

I’m never one to back down from a challenge especially when persons tell you you can’t do it. The trouble is I don’t always think things through before getting submerged. Having taken advice (yes I know, very forward of me) from our Steven the expert, I have decided that I alone will turn Tony’s office into an ensuite bathroom and update the existing family one. Well apart from the plumbing obviously.

Ripping off a bit of wobbly plaster seemed like the perfect therapy at first but my enthusiasm has waned somewhat as a bit has become most of one wall. I felt so D.I.Y savvy as I confidently filled my trolley in the local Homebase but now realise the piddly bag of plaster I bought isn’t going to cover it. However I refuse to feel defeated by the endless snowstorm of dust and having to hoof bags of rubble downstairs, I’ve started so I’ll finish. Eventually.

Overcoming odds seems to be a family trait at the moment as most of the week has been spent on the phone or the family Whatsapp keeping tabs on our Dad. Despite a major operation and subsequently being put into an induced coma to heal, the news from the doctors is good and he is slowly recovering. For a man who had never really seen the inside of a hospital until his accident (another induced coma then) eight years ago, he has been spending rather a lot of time in them of late. In fact, my eldest nephew, Louis, suggested several units could be named after him. We’d also like to keep the arm restraints if the nurses don’t mind, that way someone else can control the TV remote…

“I’ve seen a look in dogs’ eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts.” (John Steinbeck. Author)

I hit a wall this week. Not literally, although that does sound rather tempting but it in the emotional sense. I’m getting used to waves of mood that are part and parcel of the widowing process but every now and again, you get caught in a riptide. My life was turning into a sort of groundhog day scenario, each day morphing into the next one with nothing to break the monotony. It didn’t help that we had a big birthday to celebrate this week, Cal’s 21st, and neither he nor I were in the party spirit. Nope, this wave was a doozy and I came close to falling apart. This of course, was the week I gave up the booze.

I’ve talked before about the loneliness that comes and goes with the tides but perhaps I’m feeling it a little bit more at the moment. And giving up the wine has probably made me more aware of how much I used those couple of glasses to bury that issue. I read one or two recommended books on sobriety which frankly made me feel even worse and thoroughly depressed. I don’t think self-help books are really my thing. Funnily enough I don’t crave the alcohol at all, I crave the company that I share it with. I just miss the chat.

I know that I am surrounded by wet noses and adoring eyes (although the eyes are often focused on what is going in my mouth) but I am a people person. Those memes that announce how much nicer dogs are than people? I’m not one of them. I need human interaction and I think that’s why I find it so hard. I love my dogs dearly but I worry that my constant conversations with them will put me in a white suit one day. Waking up to a German Shepherd doing his morning stretches on the bed beside me is a heart-hugger but by the time I’ve got downstairs to let the dogs out (how many of you sang those words just now?), change Mo and Coco’s nappies, attached various harnesses and leads and got to the park, I haven’t spoken to a single human unless you count Alexa.

As with all pity parties I go through, I have made another decision. One of the things that the sober stories told me was the importance of visualisation. I’ve harboured quite a few ideas about future projects since starting this journey as a group of 1 plus 10 (and a half man half boy) but never felt I capable of actually doing them. After a long and therapeutic chin wag with the aforementioned man-child, I’m going to take that leap into the scary “I have no idea what I’m doing” world with his help of course. Who knows, perhaps my conversations with my canines might be useful after all?

If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.” (Harry.S.Truman 33rd President of the United States)

I remember a checkout lady’s comment on sleeping baby Callum;

“ahhh, you spend the first half of their life trying to get them into bed and the second half trying to get them out of it”

Never a truer sentence spoken except that she followed it with;

“Children are angels whose wings grow shorter as they grow taller”

Not sure I agree with that one but the first, yes. I have to admit my thoughts are somewhat tinged with jealousy as a decent night’s sleep seems to be ever more fantastical. I literally fall asleep dreaming of a getting 8 hours only to wake up having had half of that. I can’t even blame the dogs this week as they find Kate’s bed so much more attractive than mine so I’ve had all the space a girl could want. But sweet dreams remain elusive.

I confess I haven’t been looking after myself recently and my body is beginning to tell me. Between the socialising and the stress of never-ending building works and the battle with the EDF electricity over the farcical price increase in my monthly bill, a few too many glasses of the grape have been consumed and the healthy diet has slipped a bit. Even the meditation has been thrown under the duvet. It’s time to kick myself up the back side and stop wallowing in worry before the beautiful September sunshine fades into mud and gloom.

Speaking of September, I almost forgot my wedding anniversary last Thursday. Well, I didn’t forget exactly, I just didn’t noticed the date. It wasn’t until my parents rang to check up on me that I looked at the calendar and saw September 12th. I felt a teeny bit guilty but then again I often forgot the date when Tony and I were married, he used to comfort me by saying every day we were together was a special one. Good one T. Of course there is one more special September date that a mum can’t forget and that’s the looming 21st birthday for the Stewart heir. Yes our 7.4 pound bundle of joy has grown into an almost 6 foot mass of lean muscle. I think he’s definitely getting enough sleep….

“When you feel dog tired at night, it may be because you’ve growled all day long” (Anon)