Pickle training?

Pickle's present

NO, we are NOT besotted with our new dog.  Every post in the recent past might be about her, but that is just because she is the most exciting thing happening at the moment. Honestly.
Receiving a card from my dear friend Ruth which said 'CONGRATULATIONS on your NEW ARRIVAL' and 'Enjoy the precious moments with your new bundle of joy' was just a joke. Or so I thought, until she turned up with a beautifully wrapped present 'for Pickle-Lilla with love from Aunty Ruth and Uncle Graham xxx'.  Then I started to wonder if I had, perhaps, chatted about our puppy just a little too often.
On the other hand, Ruth is a wonderfully warm, kind-hearted and empathetic friend who just loves to do good wherever or whenever she can. This was one of those occasions...

The parcel contained a squeaky toy

...so delightful...

bliss.

We hid it at bedtime.

Pickle's progress - some statistics...

7 chewed fircones
6 plant pots emptied, then batted and bowled around the lawn
5 small succulents left lying soil-less and desolate
4 balls (one old tennis ball, one small football and three still-bouncy tennis balls) played with
3 small puppy-sized meals eaten
2 adults loved to pieces
1 sofa sat on.

Hard to tell what was the most fun...

A busy day...

Lilla Pickle - who thought an invitation to sit on my lap meant that SHE could type this post - is proving to be a fascinating addition to our hitherto quiet and calm household.
She RARELY sits still.
We had forgotten that a puppy is like a super-active toddler. You can't take your eyes off her for a minute.  The garden is well dog-proofed, so she is safe to wander around outside, but the list of attractive Objects For Chewing grows longer by the day.  So far, we have had to remove socks (from our feet), rugs from the floor (fringes just beg to be tasted) and washing from clothes airers (far too tempting). A small stool suffered from leg chewing, her soft toy has already been stitched up in the operating theatre and the waste paper basket is living on borrowed time.
She has a special bone we bought her to exercise her sharp little teeth on. She ignores it. We have had to take serious measures to step up the intensity of No Nipping training.
The most popular toy - even better than fir cones - is a small terracotta flower pot. She has growled at it, buried her nose in it, rolled it around and tossed it in the air.

HOURS of entertainment.

And she's still thinking about the pond - she has fallen in 4 times so far. And counting.

 It IS very beautiful and fascinating.

Add to all this, several frantic games round the garden at top speed...early night tonight!  (For me, that is: Pickle still seems to have LOTS of energy...)
PS I haven't even mentioned noise - an endless source of curiosity. Aeroplanes are interesting, low-flying wood pigeons scary. The noise a radiator makes when you paw it is intriguing; a vacuum cleaner is quite frightening... it won't be long before footsteps and car engines become recognisable...

Puppyness

Puppydom has arrived!  Her given name is Lily...images of white beauty and sweet smells don't seem to go with the black squirming reality which is making her presence felt in our house....

The Swedish word 'Lilla' means little, used as a term of endearment...and she definitely has Jack Russell in her genes - so 'Lilla Pickle' it is.
Pickle for short.
And so the adventures begin...

Hmmm...looks interesting...

...wonder what this is? POND? What's a 'pond'?

Whoops!  

Man, that was WET!

Towels are for chewing. NOT drying - what a silly idea!

All done and dusted.

Well and truly pickled now.

Leavings...

Having lived a slightly nomadic life (compared to many friends and acquaintances on this tiny island, some of whom have barely budged) over the last four decades, 'leaving' has been a large feature in my life.
Although it has often been me doing the leaving, more frequently it has been friends and family moving on.
I never manage 'leaving' very well, but I'm beginning to get the hang of it now. It's taken a while.
So, successful farewells are characterised by busyness. Packing, tying up loose ends, zooming around so there is no time for moping either before, or after.
This time, Jonny left to go back to Norwich, after a long weekend camping with us in France.

Big sky, tall surfer

Cat, Richard, Jonny

Enjoying the ambience in the evening...

Packing up the tent proved to be quite a distraction.

A luxury home from home...

I didn't much like the car journey to the airport, though...
Then, a few days later, Cat left us.
For New Zealand.
So we - she - organised a tea party to say goodbye.

Martyn didn't particularly enjoy tea from a tea CUP...he traded it in for a large mug

Dear Sarah

Dearest Renee

Tea party = chocolate cake. And smiles.

She flew off the next morning.













So we organised a barbecue lunch.  18 of us. Cooking and eating and laughing and talking - not to mention the clearing up afterwards - kept us busy and the tears at bay.

Then we tracked her flight on the internet, watching tiny planes fly across the screen en route to Dubai...and Australia...and further on...

Norman's last hours. Sadness.

Norman left us today.
He had been part of the family for over five years. Included in many an outing, taken on shopping trips, or adventures around the island, he was very much loved. He even accompanied J and C to school as soon as he was able.
He wasn't, however, terribly well cared for. He would occasionally get a brush-up, even a wash; generally kept well watered, and we made sure he always had enough energy to join in with whatever was going on. There were seasons of neglect, though. When Cat and Jonny were away, he got very little attention from the Parents. Occasionally, I'd let him come with me on a journey to school, but otherwise I would deliberately leave him at home on his own. He wasn't, at the time, particularly important to me. Once Cat or Jonny came home from uni, he was up and about again, privy to many a secret as friends hung out together.
I took Norman for granted. I think we all did, in one way or another, but he was, generally, very faithful to us, doing whatever we asked of him. He carried all Jonny's surfboards for him, putting up with the sand and seawater. He didn't much like sand, but still went on the beach. Getting him off it was more of a challenge: I'm sorry to say that he only agreed to climb up the slipway when threatened. We'll gloss over the next bit, save to say that that the tide was coming in rapidly while he was still on the beach, and that LARGE stones had to be used to persuade him.
Towards the end, he really became the worse for wear. He looked beaten-up, battered and worn out. He still had lots of energy once he got going but it sometimes took a while...but towards the end his battery just ran flat all the time.
So, with intense sadness, we reluctantly decided he had to go. His life - exciting, adventurous, faithful, true - had come to an end.
He was reluctant to leave us. Halfway to his final resting place, he ground to a halt. Refused to move. We were left with no alternative but to plug him in to a new battery.
Arriving at the cemetery, it was all over in a matter of minutes. As we walked away, he was being pushed around the corner by three burly men.
So sad.

There he is. He's the good-looking one in the middle.
We wanted to give him a good send-off, but couldn't get it organised in time. He was never very keen on drinking, fortunately for him (brushes with the police were few and far between), so perhaps that wouldn't have been appropriate. But please do join us in our mourning by adding your fond memories of Norman into the comments box below.
Thank you.

Norman in his heyday...

...with J, ready for the surf...

...and sharing secrets with his friends Mary and Cat.
PS In case you think we have been unduly harsh, let me detail what was wrong with Norman: the windows did not wind any more - up was up, down was down; the door hinges were broken, so that the door would swing wildly open and refuse to shut properly; the windscreen was beginning to need new cataracts - the glass was beginning to become opaque; there were rust holes in the floor; the door trim had become detached and the front bumper had had several disastrous connections with rocks. 'Nuff said!