There’s nothing like a litter of puppies to make you fall in love. Their tiny faces once their eyes have opened - too cute! Now that ours are three weeks old we’re into weaning and toilet training them; a messy affair, but I’m in love with them all the same.
We’ve been surprised at how quickly these pups have responded to us even though they are still so dependant on their mother. Their puppy love of snuggling into our arms and tugging at our slippers is going to make it SO hard to let them go, as go they must. In spite of advice not to name them as it makes it harder to detach when the time comes, we have inevitably done so. First of all the children thought up names for them (we’ve been keeping them involved with video) and I suppose naming couldn’t be avoided once we’d been told what one would be called by his owner-to-be. They now have kennel club names too, so their pet names have followed suit - Rosie, Dotty, Teddy and Reggie (he’s the one already spoken for).
Sigh.
When the day comes to let them go, I know I will shed tears. While giving the house a thorough cleaning and airing I will be sharing the heartache with our poor Pwdin who will have lost her little brood. I’m already wondering how she will react. Will she miss them like I miss my own brood? Will she wake at night wondering how they are faring? Will she spend her days wondering whether they still remember and love her? Will she have any paranoid thoughts about whether she was a good-enough mother? We assume that, unlike us humans, other animals detach from their young easily and ‘happily’ resume their existence without them. But do they? How can we know? Apparently ducks don’t notice the loss of any of their brood until they’re down to just one. Their numerical skills are limited to knowing the difference between one and more-than-one; so I’ve been led to believe. But it would seem to suggest that of course they notice. It’s whether they suffer a sense of loss, like we humans do, is my question. Maybe other animals are just better at stoicism. Who knows?
There’s nothing like being locked down to fuel paranoia, I guess. It doesn’t matter how many jigsaws or sour doughs one achieves, there’s still the knowledge that a world ‘out there’ is functioning and doing so without you. Ok, it’s just me; I am retired, after all, and apparently, by being older, more threatened by the virus. It’s a bit different for the younger generation, of course, struggling with trying to keep things going. But that’s how I feel - cut off, and I guarantee that there are many more, feeling the same way.
What was it Shakespeare said (or was it Plato) about a ‘shadow show’? Gareth and I are nice and cosy in our little house (it’s a novelty to live in one after three years) but we see the world through screens now - phones, laptops, TV - shadows of the ‘real’ world. And when we do get outside....Well! As one of us has to be with the pups at all times, we go out separately. Whenever Gareth gets back from his walk or bike ride he will download all of his angst and ire about the foolishness and lack of consideration displayed by others ‘out there’ taking air and, as he sees it, filling it with virus. There’s nothing like an invisible virus that we’re told by the shadows on our walls to be deadly and highly contagious to make us paranoid about being anywhere near other people. Unless you are one who feels invincible, of course, or someone who prefers to believe that it’s fake news.
It always takes a close encounter with the truth before taking any story seriously.
Ok, so a new day dawns. What shall I do today (apart from rearing puppies, that is)? So far the outside is looking pretty dreary, but light is coming through the curtains earlier each day and through the gloom of yesterday’s walk I heard a robin singing his Springtime song. Through the remains of a snow sprinkle, crocus and daffodil shoots were showing through. Primroses, tucked under the frosted fallen leaves in a nearby woodland are preparing for a blooming display as the days lengthen and the sun tows along the Spring. Maybe, sometime this year, 2021, we will all emerge from our caves into a more hopeful season; one with the virus safely contained (eradicated even) and one in which the only shadows are our own, as we walk companionably in the sunshine.
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In spite of my stated hope above, I can’t finish without making a point about vaccination. Vaccines have saved us from deadly illnesses; one of humanity’s greatest medical achievements, and I have enormous admiration for the world’s scientists who have worked tirelessly to find one for this present curse. But, there are people who are nervous and even sceptical about receiving them. I confess to being somewhat wary myself. What worries me more, I have to say, is the idea being mooted that there should be some sort of vaccination ‘passport’. I’ve heard it suggested by one travel operator that without such a passport transport will be refused on the basis that other travellers would be vulnerable. I don’t get the logic. Surely it’s the unvaccinated that are vulnerable and it may be their choice to be so. In any case, we are being told that social distancing, mask wearing and hand washing must continue, even after vaccination, so where’s the issue, unless it’s to do with the travel operators’ question of liability. What on earth is this Brave New World we are entering?
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