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My new puppy, Christopher, is not really a puppy. At the time of writing he is just 5 months old. So really he is nearly 3 - in human years!
I've always been an animal lover. Cats, dogs, horses, cows, sheep, and here in Australia even kangaroos. During my school days I would spend most holidays at my sister's farm. She loves animals even more than I do and would always be nurturing some poor lost or abandoned or sick animal. I remember many a baby kangaroo asleep in a hessian sack hanging from the back of the laundry door; I remember the sound of Bill the Emu as he approached to see what is going on. We had lambs in the bottom warming draw of the oven (not being cooked but being kept warm as they often were born in winter). We had the regular assortment of cats (my cat was a tabby called Priscilla (way before Priscilla Queen of the Desert was a famous movie!) We had goldfish, which often died, so had to be ceremoniously buried them in matchboxes lined with cotton wool. But most of all we had poodles, not on the farm but at my parent's house.
My first poodle was called Napoleon Bonaparte (and our cat was called General Macarthur). I was only a baby so had nothing to do with the naming - blame my older siblings for that! Napoleon was a miniature poodle, jet black and actually reminds me of India (or the other way round). He would go berserk whenever someone would ring the front doorbell. My mother told me the story of him being very protective of me as a baby and even she couldn't get near me if I was in the pram out in the garden - he was guarding me. So, what did my mother do? She went out the front and rang the doorbell and Nap would run to the front door, while at the same time my mother would run out to the back garden and find me safely asleep in my pram! I remember the day my father and I took Nap to the vet for the last time. When we arrived home without him my mother was devastated and couldn't be consoled.
Or so we thought... Sometime later (probably only months, but as a girl it felt like years) my father and I went to the place where you get poodle puppies and picked up Pepe. Pepe was a little woolly black bundle of energy. He was so energetic after Nap whose last years remind me of India now lots of sleeping and simply hanging around. Pepe was "my dog" that is I was able to name him and I was responsible for feeding him, with my parents help. Pepe and I had many many years together. He was my best friend, especially when I became a teenager, he never got angry at me nor told me I couldn't do something. He gave me unconditional love. Pepe eventually went blind but it didn't stop his ability to move around the house. He knew where every piece of furniture was and he had an awesome sense of smell. He was such a fun dog to care for and I'm so glad we grew up together. Eventually I went to boarding school and Pep spent more and more time with my mother. He ended up "her dog" but still wagged his tail whenever I came home. It was a very sad day when I did come home to no longer find him there. He had cancer and it was kinder to put him to sleep than to keep him alive and in pain. We had a brilliant 13+ years with Pepe.
It wasn't until I was married and found myself actually crying whenever I saw a poodle. Didn't matter what size: toy, miniature or standard; I cried! My poor (then) husband couldn't get it at all. He grew up on a farm and was used to shooting small furry cute things! Well, that soon changed thank goodness. One day at work (General Motors) my colleague Dorothy noticed a poodle for sale in the 'pets for sale' classifieds. She was aware that I had a deep yearning for a poodle of my own (she was a poodle owner so I had confided in her about my tears). Well, that was that - we got on the phone, made an appointment, jumped in the car and within 2 hours we had Jake (as India was called then) in the car with us. I always knew I would call my loved ones India and Burma. When I travelled in the 1980's to these countries I was so mesmerised, that I wanted them to be a part of my life ongoing - thus my children (not to be) or my animals would have these names. During that drive home with my colleague we renamed this little ball of black wool India Pink Merry and thus began our 14+ years together. It was only a few months later Burma Pink Merry came into our lives. We were a happy little poodle family! Unfortunately Burma passed away at only 5 years old. I was fortunate enough to partner with India for over 14 years. It broke my heart when he died.
So now we have Christopher. He is named Christopher after my nephew Christopher James Craig Bisset. Chris was my best friend as a little girl. He was smart, fun and a terrific basketballer at Ormond College. There is a lovely teak bench at Ormond that I like to sit on from time to time to remember a life cut far too short. Also Christopher was our Christmas gift in December 2011, thus it was easy to name him!
One day he will officially be the stress management consultant for merrymentality. No matter what is going on in my life, Christopher is there to give unconditional love and to remind me what is most important every day. Being Present.
You can see things I have learned from India, Burma and Christopher click here, as well as his dog dictionary.
Enjoy!
RIP India Pink Merry
30.3.96-6.11.10
Here is the last photo of India - watching the boys play footy on Jan Juc beach on a late September afternoon. Don and I had gone for a walk and he was too old to join us, so as usual, he sat patiently watching (with his one good eye) the boys, the waves and waiting for me. Note his 'dryzabone' - a traditional Australian stockman's oilskin coat with sheep wool lining! He will be very missed and loved.
