Considering that it’s Chris’s birthday today, you might imagine by the title of this blog post that I am referring to Chris again, but you would be wrong because he neither old nor fat, which is more than I can say for – no, not me either (perish the thought!) – Bella. Now she is ninety-eight and weighs a ton; and she gets a bit breathless on hills and her hips give her gyp. Nevertheless, she still has all her marbles and she is incredibly beautiful in spite of her age and size.
Normally Bella stays at home, lounging on the verandah or pottering (pottying) around on the two and a half acre estate, but not when I’m here house, dog and cat-sitting. She remembers me and the happy hours we spent together on earlier, and more prolonged, visits. Perhaps she also remembers the day when a suckling mother pit-bull terrier broke through a fence and came at me, and Bella preempted the attack and fought, neck to neck, until I joined the fray and there was impasse… and then the neighbours came to our aid and checked our wounds – we each had a bloodied bite on one shin.
Bella associates me with walking, losing a bit of weight and becoming fitter. I know this because when she sees me her eyes light up, her tail wags and she skips around in anticipation of the words:
“So would you like to go for a walk Bella?” (“Beautiful Bella”, I might add, owing to the bond between us and because I like the sound of it rolling off my tongue.)
We went for a walk yesterday and today. We took the same route – just down the road and around the corner, past the small bridge and a little way beyond the electricity box. You might wonder that it’s boring, going the same way but it isn’t – we may encounter the same dogs behind fences, however their moods can be quite different from one day to another. None of them barked nearly so much today. People always slow down in their cars as they pass and they always wave or even stop to make conversation. Everybody loves Bella.
The first half of our excursion is mostly downhill or fairly flat – that’s when Bella is most buoyant; conversely, the second half – the home leg – is nearly all uphill and Bella needs to take regular rests in the shade. On one of these rest stops we met a nice little girl called Talisa and her mother Chantal; they invited Bella to meet some new chicks and we were joined by their poodles. After a drink of water Bella felt better equipped to continue the long haul up.
She walked about twenty metres and fancied another rest just where a trickle of water runs down the road gutter; she blocked the flow with her voluptuous body and, over the course of several minutes, created a dual-purpose dam that both cooled her underside and provided another free drink.
“Come on girl. Are you ready to go?” I asked enthusiastically.
“Not yet,” she said with her expression. (She saw through the enthusiasm.)
“Come on Bella,” I cajoled. “Please Bella?”
Some while later I decided to be firm and walk ahead.
Reluctantly, Bella advanced the thirty metres to where I was waiting by a neighbour’s entrance and she plonked herself down again in the same manner as before. Cars came and went. Some of the same cars that had left eventually returned. People waved. People wound down their windows and introduced themselves. People thought Bella was very clever, beautiful and… tired.
“You could be here all day,” said Kylie, the strong lady who remembered me from two years ago – she had picked me up when I had slipped over on algae and slid backwards, head-first, down the mountainous wet drive that was like a waterfall.
“I know,” I answered, getting up from the rock where I had been sitting for half an hour.
“Why don’t I get the car and we’ll give her a lift?” she suggested persuasively.
Kylie and her daughter returned with a four-by-four. Those off-roaders are really quite high I noticed when she opened the back door.
“Come on Bella, put your paws up there,” I urged, lifting her paws.
“Not bleeding likely,” said Bella with a face that could kill.
Kylie is a strong and practical lady and saw no reason why I shouldn’t be the same.
“I’ll take her front legs, you take her hind legs,” she bent and lifted before I had the chance to consider how to find a good hold.
“What about her bad hips?” I worried and attempted to lift Bella from underneath only half-heartedly.
Bella weighs a ton – now I know!
“Let’s see if she’ll jump up again,” said Kylie.
We looked and saw the futility. The slim daughter looked on and tutted. Bella, looking resolute, lay like a big roly poly pudding in her puddle.
“You take the front legs and I’ll take the back,” said the Amazon and she bent down to grab Bella’s bottom before I could assess how best to gently raise the pudding.
Did I tell you that Bella understands what you’re saying? Bella, with as much grace as a big flobbery pudding can manage, suddenly rose on all fours and made a dash for it up the hill.
We all marvelled and hopefully, wounded pride has been assuaged. Bravo Bella! Not quite so old and fat after all!
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