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As the sun was shining I thought I’d take myself and my dog Arthur off to Moreton today. When I first moved to Dorchester in 2010 and knew absolutely no one, one of the first people to befriend me took me to St. Nicholas Church in Moreton. Since then, I’ve returned many, many times – sometimes bringing visitors, sometimes to give Arthur a paddle in hot weather (Ila, Arthur’s sister, hates getting her paws wet!), and sometimes just to sit quietly and take in the surroundings.
I go to spend time in what has become one of my favourite places. Of course, I miss the Old Schoolroom Teahouse enormously, but all things must pass and at least you can still get a cup of coffee at the very nice Dovecote Café in The Walled Garden. For such a small area there’s so much to enjoy here. I always make sure I go and pay my respects to Mr T.E. Lawrence and cross the river to walk along the well-worn path, taking in the countryside.
I remember the very first time I took Arthur into St. Nicholas Church with me. A couple writing in the visitor’s book began to remonstrate with me, asserting that I should not be bringing a dog into a church. Before I could open my mouth to speak, an elderly woman appeared out of nowhere and loudly asserted that this was God’s house, not theirs. She argued that as Arthur was one of God’s creatures, he was as welcome as they were – as were all well-behaved dogs and people.
The couple, shamefaced, let us be and our champion turned out to be a mine of information. She walked me around the windows, sharing the history and background of every single one. Once my tour was finished, we turned and both noticed Arthur (off-lead) at the same moment.
He was sitting quietly on the steps facing the altar, looking up at the window. The lady put her hand on my arm, ushered us into a pew, and said, “Shhh, let’s give him a moment…” A little bemused, we watched him soundlessly until he got up and padded over to my side. It was time to go.
Since then, I’ve sat quietly in that church so many times with my furry companion by my side. I love the tumultuous planet scene above the door which, if you really focus, you can almost join. Feel yourself lifted up and spun wildly into the chaos of its path, turning, arms outstretched amongst the stars. Or, smell the smoke of extinguished candle wax and the soft, pungent scent of Magnolia.
If I strain hard into the silence, I can hear the soft drone of a Spitfire overhead, then the whistle as she’s struck and tailspins wildly into the ground beneath. Magically, the little church tells the stories of its past, all carefully woven through etched glass which sparkles and glitters in the sunlight. I never tire of its beauty and never cease to find something new hidden within those carefully made cuts in the glass.
Once outside, we go to the River Frome where freezing cold water flows clear and bright, singing noiselessly as it ripples over shingle and tumbles over stones. Moving quickly through the overhanging undergrowth it forges ahead uninterrupted – a bit like life! Arthur spots a tiny, brown water snake and grabs my attention so that we watch together as it makes its way downstream.
After a quick paddle, the water still being a tad too cold for ancient paws, we wander past the old post office and down the lane to dry off. Admiring the tiny thatched cottages with their peeling paint and wonky windows and doors, I imagine the ghosts of wizened old women. They sit quietly in their white bonnets and starched aprons, as their worn, gnarled hands shuck peas into a bowl in the doorway. I nod a greeting as we take in the bright spring flowers and are careful not to frighten the ducks who live at the end of the lane.
Back on the path, I ask Arthur where he’d like to go next – to Mr Lawrence or The Walled Garden (I’m secretly thinking about that cup of coffee). But, as I do, I take out my phone and check the time. Instantly, I make a decision and pick up my pace, making my way back to the car and home to where my two little Shiba are waiting.
Sadly, the truth is that I was unable to bring my best friend out with me today as he now suffers from dementia. He isn’t always fond of the car and I must play it by ear. Today was not a good day so I left him to rest. Now, I drive home alone to be with both dogs and to tell Arthur all about my adventures.
I’ll make my coffee and sit in the window, gently stroking his soft head and velutinous ears. I’ll describe every step taken and how lucky he was not to go into that cold water and freeze his toes. Resting his chin on my knee, our breathing in sync, he’ll close his eyes, and take in my every word, picturing that little brown water snake swimming downstream. In spite of his absence and the fact that he never left the comfort of his green, velvet cushion, as always, we’ll share the highlights of our days, our bond as strong as ever.
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