Creative writing submission from the Rest Less community – submit your entry here.
Well, what a couple of weeks we’ve had! The leaves are turning and falling, making it crisp underfoot so that it’s like stepping on burnt toast in your slippers. Conkers, hastily gathered in my efforts to repel spiders, have appeared like amber jewels on the pavements. My pockets filled, they’re admired once decanted, before being placed strategically around every room with fingers crossed.
In spite of a couple of days where the warmth of the sun outdid the chill of the wind, allowing me to spend time in the garden with a book and a blanket of small, silky Dachshunds, it’s clear that Autumn has donned his orange and brown cloak to spread his beauty like sequined taffeta across the grass on foggy mornings.
Last week, there was an incident. On waking, I immediately say, “Good morning little sausages!”, whereupon my dogs instantly scrabble up from the depths of the bed where, until that moment they’ve kept my feet warm, like two furry hot water bottles. Whilst both greet effusively, Bear, in particular, is beside himself. It’s like living at the bottom of the bed has removed him from all he’s ever known, so that he greets me as though I’ve left him for days!
His tail spins like a rota blade, his tongue whips out, kissing indiscriminately, and he makes the most endearing little chirruping sounds as he bounces up and down with enthusiasm. It makes me laugh every morning, even though I know it’s coming.
The night before, however, he’d failed to have a last night ‘pee’. I wasn’t concerned as both wake me up if they need to go out. But, what happened (I’m guessing) was that, with a full bladder, his extreme enthusiasm meant he had a little accident. It was just that, a ‘little accident’, easily sorted by whipping off the bed sheet and mattress protector and popping them into the washing machine. Literally no big deal in my eyes.
The moment he realised what he’d done, however, he rolled over onto his side screaming, putting his little front legs and paws up over his head and face, and waiting for me to strike him! Shocked to the core, I scooped him up which made him flinch horribly and scream again. Cradling him in my arms, I took him downstairs to the garden as he shook and cried, so that he could finish his pee outside. Checking where I was, his head bowed, he finished his pee, then burrowed himself behind the plant pots, shaking and whimpering.
I was crying as I dug him out gently and cradled him close to me, stroking his little, furry head and talking softly into his ears, promising him that he’d never, ever be struck in this house and that he was safe. It was truly horrific and it took ages to calm him down and reassure him. He was tentative and subdued all day. Awful and terrible as it was, it’s been a turning point in our relationship. More than one person has noticed the difference in him. He’s now much closer to me, comes for cuddles all the time, has started to play, and isn’t spending all day hiding under a blanket.
Then, yesterday was Willow’s spay appointment. I took her in for eight AM only for the vet to ask me; “How long ago did her puppies leave her?” My friend, Kate, had previously expressed some suspicions about this but I’d dismissed it, as I couldn’t see why Willow’s previous owners would lie.
Retrospectively though, they’d already lied. In the online appeal looking for new owners for Willow and Bear, it clearly stated that they were both neutered. On discovering she wasn’t, they said she’d been booked in but had come into season. Therefore, I specifically asked about the dates of her last season, to work out the best time for spaying, but I wasn’t told at any time that she’d had puppies!
In fact, I was specifically told that she hadn’t and that Bear had been neutered to prevent it. The vet was almost 100% sure that she’d whelped and as she was still producing milk, thought her pups had probably left her only a couple of weeks before I took her. Apart from rearranging her spay, I feel angry at being lied to. And with the incident involving Bear, I have to ask myself; “Who were these people?”
When I first contacted them I’d insisted on verifying the dogs’ microchips and speaking to their vet. The vet said that there were no health issues, but that they hadn’t seen Willow for six months, with only an anal gland issue prior. I’ve been surprised that so much of what the previous owners told me has turned out to be the opposite. Then, on checking the mobile number yesterday, I discovered it’s been disconnected!
In a way, I’m glad. I never gave them my address, only my mobile number, as Kate and I travelled to Oxford to collect them. Willow and Bear are mine now, here to stay, and safe and loved. They’ll never, ever know cruelty in this house (though I can’t promise not to step on a toe occasionally when they dance around my feet at dinner time).
When I took them to Weymouth Beach last week, it was simply wonderful to see Bear stepping out confidently into the sea with me (Willow was a tad more cautious). Both enjoyed racing across the sands, ears flying, as I dropped to my knees, arms flung wide, calling them to me.
Only days before seeing the appeal I’d said to a dear friend that I’d never, ever, in a million years have another Dachshund because of the breeding issues, yet here I am! Two small, silky, baked beans snuggled up in my armpits at bedtime, loving every minute of it. I think that as my previous dog, Arthur, looked out for me his whole life, somehow he’s responsible for this. Somehow, he’s guided us towards each other – a perfect pairing!
Are you feeling creative? We are proud to have a hugely talented community on Rest Less, which is why we’re so excited to open up a section of the site dedicated to showcasing the wonderful and diverse writing of our members. If you have a piece of creative writing that you’d like to share with the Rest Less community – you can do so here.