The Magical World of Tylluan Penry

You know I've been saying ever since we lost Florence that I couldn't feel her around any more? Well, I take it back. I think she has been trying to send a message, except I was rather to wrapped up in my own sadness to even notice. (I can imagine her now, fixing me with that beautiful gaze of hers, shaking her head at me.)

Sometimes when a soul (human or animal) has passed into the otherworld we still feel them around. This happens in particular when the soul either doesn't realise it's dead, or doesn't want to leave loved ones behind. Sometimes they just come back to visit, to let you know they're all right. And sometimes they send something over.

So, the other day in hte middle of the garden was a large, heavy, strange metal object. Now the most obvious explanation is that it was there all along, only it wasn't. The next explanation is that someone threw it into the garden from out in the road - again, not possible. You can't throw anything into our garden at the moment.

Maybe the dogs dug it out? Well, then there would be signs of digging, and there aren't.
But we ignored it anyway.

THe second object was much harder to ignore. It was a plaster cast of a dog (not a st bernard), painted the same sort of colour as Florence's coat (a rich shade of orange). It was right by one of our gates, sitting in a border where it couldn't be missed.
It wasn't there before.
The gate is always locked, and if someone had dropped it over the fence from that height it would have smashed.
It hadn't been there long - because in our climate the chalk would simply have disintegrated in the rain.

I think (and you don't have to believe this, obviously) that Florence sent us a message that even I would understand. A dog.

And somehow it brightened my day, just as she knew it would. The equivalent of a postcard from the Otherworld.

She's okay, folks.

Well, maybe not quite. But I came across this article in the Daily Wail and thought I would share it with you:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1155735/What-happened-sent-fattie-London-Fashion-Week-Kate-Faithfull-reports-week-fatwalk.html

Basically a size 12-ish reporter donned a fatsuit and a hideous outfit and took herself to a fashion show before reporting back how everyone looked at her as though she was a freak.

Now those of you who have actually met me (Usky? Wild Witch?) will know that I am not just on the large side - I am the large side. And Mr Penry thinks I'm lovely, so there. I have also embarked on a diet and lost 62 pounds so far... but I'm still big.

What does baffle me however, is how some people take it upon themselves to be really rude just because my size somehow offends their delicate sensibilities. So here are two of my favourite put downs.

Someone I once worked with announced loudly, in the office 'You're overweight, you should diet.'
To which I promptly replied, 'You're thick. You should get an education.'
I don't think I had ever seen her so offended!

It's one thing for adults to come out with c**p like that, quite another when they teach it to their children. Another time, I was sitting at an end of term concert when a little boy turned to his Mammy and said (in a voice that probably reached Saturn) 'Mammy, why is that lady so fat?'

I replied (equally loudly) 'Because I've just eaten a little boy for breakfast....'

Anniversaries are strange things. They can remind us strongly of something past, or, if the memory has faded sufficiently they can seem surreal. Today it is a week since we lost our much loved Florence and the memory is still a painful one.

The other dogs are adjusting slowly to their situation. Ben (the Love God) has unexpectedly taken charge of the others, Homer has taken to catching mice (EEEKK!) while Barney has settled down in the kitchen, made himself comfortable and refuses to move. Apparently he believes that when the Mujahadeen strike, the kitchen is likely to be their first point of attack and he wants to be ready. That, and the fact he doesn't want to miss out on any food.

But today is another, quite different anniversary too. It's the anniversary of the day Mr Penry and I first met. The day that changed our lives.

Weather wise, that day was quite different from this. It was sunny, cold and bright, whereas today is overcast, damp and cloudy. But it still feels the same somehow. For us it's as though this day is somehow imprinted on the year and no matter what else is going on, no matter what the weather, we just feel the significance of the day the same as always.

This isn't as strange as it sounds. One of our old dogs (not one I've written about here on the blog) always knew when it was his birthday and would go beserk, barking and making a great fuss until we took some notice. It never happened on any other day, just his birthday. Every year.

It won't be a big celebration today. Love doesn't need a great song and dance (though Mr Penry reckons a nice drop of whisky wouldn't go amiss). Love just needs constant recognition, care and consideration. A bit like a plant, really!

It's not often I dip my toe into something as controversial as euthanasia, but what with losing our Florence I suppose I've been thinking about it recently. Also, it's been in the news.

As a pagan I believe in reincarnation (not all pagans do although most seem to) and that when I die I believe I cross to the Otherworld before coming back here again. That's my belief, you don't have to accept it.

But sometimes I find myself wondering...Why is it, that people are allowed - even condemned - to suffer, when to allow an animal to suffer can bring down the wrath of the authorities upon you?

Why is it, that the people who believe in an afterlife are often the most vociferous in wanting to prolong a life that has lost all dignity, all quality? Surely it would be more compassionate to allow the patient to meet their God sooner, rather than later in these circumstances?

Yes, euthanasia can be misused, especially by those with something to gain, but so can anything. For example, cars can be misused by drunks and drug addicts. Anyway, the biggest risk of euthanasia is not greedy relatives, but a health service that would be tempted to substitute death for care in a bid to cut costs.

These are only a few basic questions, I'm sure you'll think of many others. For myself I can only say that I believe life is wonderful - up to a point. I don't want to live on in a twilight world of dribble and nappies.

I'd prefer to shuffle off this mortal coil like Florence: in my own kitchen, in Mr Penry's arms, and with him feeding me chocolate biscuits, right until the end....

Today is the day I have been dreading, when we have had to say goodbye to our beloved Flossie. As readers of this blog will know, she has become increasingly frail recently, and today we reluctantly decided to call the vet out.

Florence was a very special girl (she never allowed anyone to use the 'B' word about her - she was a 'Lady Dog.') We had her as a rescue when she was about nine months old, but truth to tell we didn't rescue her, she rescued us.

The first time we met, she was cowering in the back of an old van, absolutely terrified. The man with her said I would have to take responsibility for her because nobody could control her. Actually, the moment he opened the rear doors of the van she flung herself at me, licking my face and generally begging us to take her home.

Nobody ever did 'control' Florence. She didn't need to be controlled as such, because she was considerably more intelligent than many people I've met in this life. She just needed to be understood. And loved.

She was edgy and nervous when we first had her. She couldn't even sleep. Mr Penry used to sing to her and we'd watch as she would go cross eyed and then finally fall asleep in a crumpled heap.

With her first owners she had become so neurotic about food that either myself or Mr Penry had to hand feed her for every single meal. And sometimes Mr Penry had to tell her stories... Flossie and the Pea became a minor classic, as did Flossie and the Barrage Balloon, Indiana Florence and Florence's Day Trip in a Rolls Royce.

When our last dog died Florence was devastated, so we bought a puppy (Ben) the next day to keep her company. She perked up a bit, bossed him about, but still we'd catch her looking listless and bereft. So we bought another pup, half expecting we would lose Floss and Ben would be on his own. With the arrival of her 'sons' Florence seemed to catch her second breath, and became a matriarchal figure. Sometimes we'd nickname her Boadicea.

With the arrival of Homer, she seemed totally content. Although Homer is a Bassett Hound and not a Saint Bernard, she took to him as though she had at last found her spiritual heir. In her final days Homer fussed around her, cleaning her, licking her paws etc. In returned she sometimes nicked his bed from under him while he was asleep.

They broke the mould when they made Florence. It was our privilege to have known her.

Recently Mr Penry bought a set of metal die-casts.... stamps each with a letter of the alphabet on them. He now fancies he is Caxton. Recently he made a bird house and stamped 'For the Birds' on it. Other objects have had our address stamped on them.

Nothing wrong with that, you might say. And you'd be right, of course. And I don't mind him pottering away in his den, tinkering with bits of wood and metal...

But today, I think he over-reached himself. Pinned to our gate is a metal sign that reads:

'THANK YOU FOR CALLING. NOW SOD OFF.'

Always the sociable type, Mr Penry

I am really, really REALLY sorry that I've not been around much lately. The will is there... it's just time that seems to be lacking. I do drop by as often as I can, but at the moment I seem to be trying to cram too many hours into the day.

Also I would like to apologise for not responding to comments... I know how annoying that can be, and I'm really sorry. (Especially to all those people who tried so hard to help me when I was having a few problems with my blog. I do apprecite your efforts, and I should have written and thanked you sooner.)

At the moment I am desperately trying to finish one book, get past the first draft on another, finish my illustrations for one that is coming out this year, and - most importantly - look after our old duchess, Florence.

Here she is last year, on her tenth birthday.

Ten may not sound like much for a dog, but in St Bernard terms it is extremely impressive. And now, alas, she seems to be fading, bit by bit, day by day. She's still alert and interested in everything that's going on around her, but she's slowing down a lot and needs a great deal more care.

More than anything, I would really appreciate the love and blessings of my blog friends on Florence's behalf. Our pets give us so much more than we can ever give them, it's only at the end that we have any opportunity to repay anything.

So please, forgive me if I'm not around much at the moment... I'm really a bit choked up.

We are snowed in for the second day running.... naturally enough I thought I would visit my local online newspaper for information about the weather forecast for the next few days.

They always used to have a link on their home page for the weather....
So I looked....
and I looked....
and I found....
Climate change

Yep. That was it. A link to articles about climate change but they have seemingly done away with the section that actually told us what the weather was doing in Wales, and what it is likely to do in the next day or so.

So we no longer know anything about that.... only what they choose to tell us about 'climate change'...