Honey, one of our two dogs died a couple of weeks ago and we are all very sad.
We are sad for us, not for her — she is happy and pain-free, just the way she should be.
She brought so much happiness into our lives and we were there to let her go.
I’m not ashamed to say that I cried for a long time.
Zed misses her very much and he searches for her whenever we come back from a walk.
Life goes on but it will never be the same.
I now do not have to look behind my chair when I have been writing in case I push the chair over her because she is no longer there — but she will always be in my/our hearts.
The photo above shows the famous day she stole a doughnut when we were not looking, but couldn’t get all of it into her mouth so she sat on the bed until we found her.
After many late nights and a mountain of sound editing, RUFUS has joined my stable of AUDIOBOOKS — five in the collection now (Keeper Of Secrets, Trust, Slightly Spooky Stories, Dot Dot Dot… , and Rufus).
It’s true that it is a painful process, but it is also true that it is a lot of fun. I sometimes wish I had kept all the outtakes, just for the fun of it.
I record at night when it is quiet and my dogs think it is unusual that I get out of bed and go to the other side of the house into a room that does not get a lot of use. Naturally, they tag along to see what is happening. If you know dogs you will know that there is a bit of preening that goes on before they settle, so my recording has to wait while they scratch and lick and drink water. An added difficulty can be Zed’s perceived job, that of frightening away stray possums that walk across the deck. Needless to say, there are a few swear words mixed into the outtakes.
The whole process takes several weeks and there is a huge sigh of relief when the files are uploaded and approved for distribution.
RUFUS has now joined the recorded word family and I’m pleased that he is there.
That’s right. RUFUS is now available as a paperback from Amazon’s US store (and their UK store and a bunch of others, but not the Australian store as yet).
The best thing about small humans — sticky fingers.
Sure, they are likely to poke you in the eye or pull on an ear, but it is a small price to pay.
Little humans think it’s funny. The big humans try to stop them, “Don’t let that dog lick your hand, it’s dirty.”
The cheek! My tongue is very clean and I am performing a service because little humans with sticky fingers get yelled at, “Why is this child allowed to wander around with sticky hands?” A good question and I have the solution — let me lick them.
I’m here to help — they just don’t seem to understand.
“I know what dead people look like. I worked for a summer at our local hospital. I told my mother that I was gaining experience for my future career as a writer. I’m not sure if she believed me, but she let me go. To be honest, my goal was spending money, boys and parties; and I succeeded on all fronts. Along the way, there were several dead bodies.
A dead body is a dead body, but some dead bodies cause more problems than others.”
“Sir William met me at the front door and I’m not sure how he knew I had arrived, but I wasn’t thinking about it at the time. He suggested that I might want to freshen up before tea and I wasn’t sure if he was alluding to my appearance or just being polite.
He should try belting through the countryside in an open top Lagonda and see how fresh he looks.”
My mistress drives a Porsche.
For all those uneducated dogs out there, that’s a car — a very fast car.
She takes me with her, and the wind makes my ears fly back, and flap and sometimes I get a bug up my nose. She bought me a pair of ‘Doggles’ but I refused to wear them, so now I just close my eyes.
The best bit is that all those delicious smells come at me really fast.
Other humans like to talk to my mistress about her car.
“Is that a 356 or a 356s,” they say.
“It’s an ‘s’,” she replies.
If she doesn’t like the person who asks, she says to me, “Speak,” and I growl — they usually go away. I like being able to help.
I was only a pup when it happened.
He didn’t come home one night. Lots of people came to the door. I barked at some of them and my master was too upset to tell me to stop, so I picked the ones I didn’t like and gave them a full-throated bark. They might be fooling the other humans, but dogs know stuff — like who is good and who should be driven away.
My master was very quiet for a long time and we stopped doing the things we usually do.
These days, we are back to something like our old routine.
We go to the big market before it gets light — I find this bit hard, but a dog has to do his duty. He talks to the other men and loads up his handcart. It has his name printed on the side. I don’t read ‘human’, but I know it is there because other humans comment on it.
“Love the old signwriting mate. Did you do it yourself?”
“Yes,” my master would say and the other human would look disappointed — they always wanted to hear more, but my master doesn’t say much — not to them anyway — he talks to me though.
We go out most days, rain or shine and I stay close by.
“Sanderson and son, eh?”