A Life full of Animals - the final part

 

A Life full of Animals – the final part

I cannot leave this theme without paying tribute to the other animals in my life, the two-legged variety. I have chosen to use photographs of them as little beings, when they begin to resemble human beings, not the very smallest, newborn ones, when only the most besotted and closely-related  can truly say, 'Oh, how beautiful' and sound as though they mean it!

Naturally, my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren were stunning from the moment they were born, but they were the exception.

First. always and forever, is my husband. Here he is, at three years old, in India, where he lived for three years, He came back to the UK on a troop ship when he was six, better able to converse in Urdu than English. 

I debated whether I should include a photograph of myself, but I am another animal in my life. As the youngest of three, the novelty had rather worn off for my parents, so there aren't many snaps of me. However, here I am at the Festival of Britain in 1951, aged seven. I'm the one sitting on the well-fed pony.

Gillian appears next. A blue-eyed, corn-gold blonde, after the Cooke fashion, she looked nothing like me, a hazel-brown-eyed brunette, and for a while I wondered if I had actually had anything to do with her as everybody remarked on how much she looked like Barry. She grew up to be a very pretty girl, but not particularly tall (the Cooke influence) and is now a loving mother to two blonde blue-eyed daughters and a brown-haired blue-eyed son, and a grandmother to 4, soon to be 5, all with blue eyes and blonde hair.

 

                                                            Gardening

So delighted were we with Gillian that we embarked on a second child and Gareth was born twenty months later. Some people marvelled that a brown-eyed boy should be born to a blue-eyed father. Once again, where was I in the equation? Gareth grew into a handsome strong young man of 6’3” (the Mayne genes asserting themselves here) and is now a devoted father to three, two sons taller than him and a beautiful daughter, taller than her mother. All of them have wonderful deep brown eyes, and very dark brown hair.

 

                                                            Purposeful

Third in line came Susannah, a striking green-eyed ash blonde. Like her brother, she grew tall and is a loving mother to a blue-eyed dark blond boy.

 
Dreaming

After a nine-year delay, when we had forgotten what caused it, Bethan was born, a quietly beautiful brown-eyed blonde. She has two dark-eyed brown-haired sons.

 

                                                           Hobby horse

Then we move onto the second generation. 

Marnie, Gillian’s eldest

                                                          Birthday cake  

Her sister, Shakira (Kiri)

                                                        In the garden

Their brother, Callum

 
On holiday

Elliot, Gareth’s eldest child

 
Full of mischief

His sister, Eve

                                                            Curious

Their brother, Louis

                                       
                                                            At the helm

Susannah’s son, Frankie

                                                             Reading

Bethan’s elder son, Charlie

 
On the'phone

His younger brother, Jack 

A life on the ocean wave

Then comes the beginning of the third generation.

 Isla, Marnie’s elder child

                                                          Aye,aye, Cap'n

Fergus, her younger brother

                                                        Steering a course

Then there are  Shakira’s daughter and son, Ariella and Luca, but we have no individual photographs of them.

Finally, for the moment, there is Callum's daughter, Melia, still incubating and due to join the world in March . . .  and there will be others in the future, no doubt. 

What sort of world will these little people grow up into? Each generation faces problems which seem insurmountable but thus far, we have overcome them or adapted to them. Perhaps there is a kernel of truth in the saw, 'Where there's life there's hope.'

I see the formatting has gone awry in parts. It's a good thing I'm not possessed of the demons that demand perfection.

What happened?

 

What happened?

When people ask what we’ve been doing, I always say, ‘Nothing’, or ‘Not much’, because what has been happening in our lives may seem inconsequential, compared to what other folk have been up to. Time passes and it’s not filled with exciting trips abroad or fabulous meals in smart restaurants or trips to the theatre. Nonetheless, our time is fully occupied.

Our oldest grandson was married in August 2021. It was a beautiful day with perfect weather and it was so good to meet all our family after such long times apart.  Our grandson and his wife are expecting their first child, a daughter, in March next year.

In March 2021, Ariella was born to our second granddaughter and in August 2022 her parents were married before their son was born in October. We were unable to attend as by then it was impossible to leave Gus because he fretted so much if he was left alone, despite having canine and feline company. He needed his own humans – no-one else would do. 

In 2021, we had a dog-sitter to look after the dogs (and cats) but a year later Gus was thoroughly dependent on us. He missed his sister, as Jenna had died in November 2021, at the grand age of 16, quite remarkable for a Labrador.

Jenna and Gus when young

 Jenna in old age

In April 2022, Bertie required extensive dental surgery and jaw reconstruction. He recovered well, but by May, a month or so after his operation, he began to be fussy about his food. Bertie was unusual, in that he was never greatly interested in food, and Labradors are renowned dustbins. Nevertheless, he had always eaten whatever was placed in front of him, but quite suddenly he turned his nose up at his rations. Veterinary investigations showed that he was very ill and not likely to linger long. He still looked the handsome dog he had always been, was keen to go out for walks, remained the perfect gentleman he had been since puppyhood, but he was losing condition rapidly, despite regular B12 vitamin injections and appetite stimulants. We could have stocked a pet food shop with the different brands of dog and cat food we bought to try and encourage him to eat. We bought two or three chickens a week and cooked them in the pressure cooker.

 

Bertie in his prime

Most things worked for a while but eventually he was eating only minute portions and plain yoghourt. Our beautiful boy was fading away and we braced ourselves for his departure and then, shockingly, in August, Gus died. 

Gus 

Gus was a big, strong dog, with the heart of a lion and the gentle temperament of a capybara, always inclined to avoid trouble. He had the sweetest smile and the most beautifully shaped front paws. He had developed arthritis in recent years, which was being well managed, and always enjoyed his walks. One night, he was crying and I had to get up to him several times, to soothe and comfort him. (Our dogs have always slept upstairs with us, often on the bed.)The next morning, after he had taken the morning air, he was suddenly unable to stand and I could see the pain and fear in his eyes. That was his last day with us. He was nearly thirteen.

Those of you who have read earlier posts may recall that we called him Augustus Lazarus Cooke, because as a newborn pup he had to be encouraged to breathe. Just at the point his breeder was about to abandon her efforts, he took a breath and never looked back. He remained very puppy-like in his ways.

We had expected Bertie to be the first to leave but he clung on until one day he was no longer coming to lay his head on my lap to have his ears stroked and was not interested in going for a walk. So that day, in October, Bertie departed this life. He was eleven.

Roxy with Bertie

Now, abruptly, we were reduced to one dog. Roxy is seven years old and has never known life without another dog.

It is clear that she is missing her companions and although she enjoys the company of our daughter’s working cocker spaniel, Arthur is not a Labrador, and more importantly, he doesn’t live with us.

Arthur 

Roxy and Arthur with Barry

Every time she goes out she gravitates towards other Labradors. There’s only one remedy . . .  

What happened next?

‘Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really.’ Agnes Sligh Turnbull.