Morning all.
It's a beautiful day outside and I'm ashamed to say I have only just dragged myself out of bed. I really wish there was a reset button for the body clock like there is on mobile phones! I know that the irregular hours that I work aren't helping but sometimes I would give anything to sleep a solid 8 hours without waking up for some reason or another.
I think the last time I slept for that amount of time without waking was after I had a knee op about a year ago. I remember going home about 4 hours after the surgery and going to bed that night - bizarrely feeling high as a kite due to the anesthesia and laughing out loud to myself because I felt so 'happy' - and remembering nothing until the next morning. Now, I'm not advocating surgery to aid sleep but it was an odd experience.
Recently I have tinkered with various teas, lavender oils, herbal remedies and Nytol One A Night. I think they all work after a fashion although the Nytol gives me very vivid dreams. I have found what helps me best is deep breathing. Usually 4 -6 deep breaths is enough to make me drowsy. Unfortunately, it's not enough to keep me asleep and as soon as I wake up my mind starts ticking over about the day before or the day ahead and I'm back to square one again.
I have always been able to catnap during the afternoon if I have the opportunity so and that is a blessing. I think I inherited that trait from Nan and Mum! Nan used to 'grab 40 winks' in her chair in the afternoon and Mum used to be able to doze on the sofa after lunch and before going to pick up the children from school. I've always felt a bit guilty about sleeping in the daytime but theses days I sleep if I get the chance!
That aside, I was going to write about music and then I thought about family pets - both subjects are close to my heart- so I've decided on pets. I hope at least some of you may want to read on.
So, pets and family go hand in hand to me. What I mean by that is that I can't remember a time in my life when there wasn't a beloved family pet (or 3) as part of the family, either when I was a child or when I had children of my own.
When I was a child my first recollection of a family pet was a cat called Billy. He was a bit wild I think...used to go out all night and sleep all day, that kind of cat....and I only remember he caught a vole and ate it and then threw up on the sofa and what he threw up was riddled with maggots. Disgusting. Shortly after that he was put to sleep but I have no idea if the two events were connected. I think they were but I don't know how.
We had a white rabbit called Ricky (died after surgery, in our front room under the sideboard), I had a tortoise called Terry (lived for a year and used to get into next doors garden and eat their lettuce), there was a female ferret called Bruce (had loads of babies and used to escape from the cage and Dad used to have to chase her round the garden to try to catch her), a black rat called Ben who I was scared of ( had a big tumour and was put to sleep), 3 goldfish called Rollo, Polo and Toffo who we won at the fair and lived for ages (always arguements about whose turn it was to clean them out) and two other rabbits that were given to my sister, Misty and Thumper. Misty was the female and quite spiteful, Thumper was male, chocolate brown and adorable. They had several litters of bunnies which were all killed by my cat which was pretty horrendous to be honest. We just opened our bedroom curtains one morning and saw little bundles of fur dotted about. Each bundle of fur was a bunny. It was horrible.
The culprit for the massacre was my cat Twizzle. We also had a cat called Twinkle but we didn't think it was in Twinkle's nature to do such a thing. She was a very docile cuddly cat where as Twizzle was a bit wild. Twizzle was beautiful to look at. She was a tortoiseshell. She was also a killer and often used to bring bits of animals home for us which I hated. I still have a phobia about dead birds and mice etc but birds in particular. Both cats lived for a very long time and they were a big part of our childhood but the star of the show was Sparky.
Sparky was our mongrel dog who we all loved with all our hearts. He was a bit of a scruff and he was a bit of a wanderer but we adored him. He was always there, he was just part of the family. He used to escape from the garden and roam up and down the road raiding peoples dustbins which upset a few neighbours. He used to come on holidays with us. We used to make up plays and shows in the school holidays which he would always have a part in. He was part of the family and that was that.
Sparky was really Dad's dog I think. Dad was the one who used to walk him every night and it was always Dad that he would want to sit near ...or on if he got the chance!
As had to happen, Spark got old and frail. We found him one morning on the front door step unable to move his back legs. I'm not sure if he was already dying then, I can't remember, but I know that was about the end for him. The next thing I remember is Mum coming to our house because we were all so upset because Sparky had died. It was like losing a friend.
I vividly remember Dad digging a 'grave' for him at the top of the garden. All of us watched from the bedroom window as Dad carried Sparky's lifeless body up the garden path. Dad was talking to Spark all the time he was doing it and I remember we all just sat looking out of the window and sobbing uncontrollably. Sad, sad times.
Fast forward to my own family and we have had a selection of pets over the years too. I don't suppose I can remember them all (the kids will kill me!) but there was Sooty, a wonderful rabbit from the RSPCA, there was another (nasty) rabbit called Fudge who I still have nightmares about, then several guinea pigs....Hope and Heidi and one more whose name escapes me. We got Hope about the time of the Dunblane massacre where there was a horrendous shooting in a school and lots of young children and many teachers were murdered. Hope was named Hope because my children wanted there to be something positive to remember about that time. I remember thinking what a lovely thought that was. Hope was a noisy little thing and I loved her. I still think about her and often think about getting another guinea pig because of her. She was just lovely. Then, after a lot of consideration and many family chats, we decided to get a dog.
Welcome to the family Monty. Monty was a Jack Russell cross and he was fantastic. He was boisterous and bouncy, very intelligent and very loving. He settled in with us very quickly and the kids loved him. He used to sleep in their beds because he was small enough to and we all just loved him like you when you have a family dog.
Monty was born on my Mum's birthday which always made us feel as if he was destined to be with us and we envisaged many happy times with him in our family. Sadly that was not to be. During the Easter break when Monty was 2 years old, hubby and kiddies all took him for a walk by the river. I stayed at home to wash my hair and get dinner ready. The phone rang, I answered and it was a man asking if I had a dog called Monty. I said yes and assumed that he had found him. Sadly, the man was calling to say that he had just run Monty over and he was dead. Oh, it was dreadful. I rang hubby to tell him. He said that the children were all searching for the dog and wouldn't come home without him so he had to tell them what had happened. He said afterwards that it's one of the worst things he's had to do because the kids were devastated once they knew what had happened and they all dropped to the ground crying and screaming.
In the meantime, the man who had run Monty over had brought our little doggy home to us wrapped in a blanket. The guy hadn't stood a chance as Monty had been spooked by a loud noise while out walking and had tried to run back to the car which was parked on the other side of the road. He just ran right out in front of the traffic.
We have Monty in our garden buried under a flowering bush. We can see him from our kitchen window and we often light candles around him in the summer. He will always be a happy memory in our family history. much like Charlie.
Charlie, our lovely, soppy, handsome Charlie. We got Charlie a few months after Monty had died. Our family didn't seem complete without a dog. I saw an advert in the vets window and went to meet this 4 month old noisy Labrador puppy who had been returned to the breeder because he was so loud and barked all the time. I knew, as soon as I saw him, that Charlie belonged with us. Once again, he fitted into our family straight away. He used to chew things all the time when he was young...remote controls, cameras, lampstands, shoes, you name it...and he got a fair few tellings off along the way but he grew up and calmed down and was just our Charlie.
Charlie was 10 years old when he became unwell. I knew there was something wrong with him but I didn't know what it was. He was still wanting walks, he was still eating but he wasn't well. In hindsight, I should have taken him to the vets straight away like my heart was telling me to but nobody else seemed to think it was that important. Then, one morning, Charlie started to be sick and he couldn't get downstairs. I knew this wasn't good. I had to go to work but decided that, as soon as I got home, I was going to take him to the vets.
When I got home I knew it was too late. Charlie was nowhere to be found. I called him and called him, my heart pounding wildly because I didn't know what I was going to find. Then I heard the most awful howl. I ran into the garden and found Charlie round the side of the house unable to move. He looked so sad.
He couldn't stand up and I was too scared to lift him so hubby and I got a neighbour to help us lift Charlie into the back of the car. I felt sure that he was going to die en route to the vets but when we got their he jumped out of the back of the car unaided and walked into the vets. Usually I couldn't drag him into the vets. He hated it there.
The vet took one look at our handsome boy and shook his head and said 'He's a very poorly dog. I think he has heart worm'. That didn't mean anything to us but we assumed that that meant he could offer some kind of treatment. He looked at Charlie's gums. They were white. He had internal bleeding. The vet said there was nothing he could do and that the kindest thing would be to put our lovely boy out of his misery. He left us alone to say our goodbyes. Anyone who has been in a similar situation will know just how heartbreaking it is. Our lovely, handsome Charlie was laying on the vets bed and we had to say goodbye. Hubby and I were heartbroken and unable to speak. Charlie laid there looking at us as we stroked him and kissed his head and told him what am anazing friend and family member he had been and how much we were going to miss him...oh,crikey, I'm crying now when I think about it. I cradled Charlie's head in my hands and breathed in the smell of him. I can still remember it today. He looked at us as if to say 'It's OK. I've got to go'. He wasn't scared. Hubby stayed with him while the vet gave the injection but I couldn't bear to see it. And that was it. Our Charlie, Sir Charles, Charley Farley, was no more.
We had him cremated and later scattered his ashes at the site of one of his favourite walks. We all went and we all had our own thoughts as we said our final farewell.
And now we have Harvey who is a whole different story!
Well, that's enough for now I think. I'm still feeling a bit teary and emotional so I'd better go and get a cup of tea and stroke Harvey and tell him how much we all love him.
Have a happy day one and all.
Much love
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