Monday Coffee

…or should I say tea? After all, we are meeting at tea time and the weather demands something a bit more comforting than coffee. Join me on the yellow sofa and let’s catch up.

The Cave

They say, running away from your problems solves nothing. Well, I love to be different!

Henry

Three weeks ago I sat here, in my living room, watching my companion – my shadow – suffer through dehydration and what I thought was just a severe gastrointestinal problem – curable and recoverable. Sprockets are notorious for eating crap when given the opportunity. Little did I know that in a few hours, I would lose him.

If typos appear, blame the blurred vision. To say that time heals all wounds is as comforting as punching me in the gut and expecting me to say thank you. Imagine, just for a second, that a sliver of light appears that changes your family from self-absorbed consumerists into loving, attentive people worrying about another creature’s well-being more than their own. Now picture Henry.

I loved Henry and the family loved Henry. He now sits on our fireplace in a wooden box and we pretend we have him close. The dust in the box and the empty spot next to me tells me otherwise.

Yes, I’m still grieving. Deal with it.

My Shadow

Tripping down the stairs,

Knowing you’re there

Little footsteps in my shadow

No matter where I go

You’re there.

I love you.

I miss you Henry, my shadow.

Henry Carlisle De Sousa

01/06/15 – 24/11/18

The greatest love of my life

My shadow.

Moofy and Flo

As a writer, the brick wall of procrastination and mind block is fatal to any projects awaiting completion. Here’s an example of one of my projects which have fallen under its deadly blocks of silence.

My Dog, The Terrorist!

Eyes wide open with dark pupils glaring into my soul, his mouth remained clamped over his latest hostage. My pleas and persuasion had fallen on deaf ears and now my voice held an angry bite, ready to do battle.

“Put the doll down, Henry,” I growled.

His head cocked to one side, contemplation stealing across his chiselled facade. Pathetic dolly arms flumped as he swung his head to check for attackers from behind.  He was safe for now.  He only had to face me.  But he and I both knew that back-up was on its way.  The heavy footfalls of the Hubble were unmistakable.

“Drop it, now!” My hissing voice reminded me of a stand-off in a spaghetti western.  I should have worn my poncho for this!

Big mistake. As my thoughts trailed away, he took the opportunity to run past my outstretched hands and scuttle out of the kitchen door into the garden, said hostage still trapped between his jaws. I screamed and pursued him, darting this way and that as he pranced before me.  Slight head turns gave him an advantageous view to predicting my next move. Without much effort he ducked and ran just far enough for me to be within touching distance of his wagging bushy tail.

A deep voice made us both jump.

“Henry! What are you doing?” demanded the Hubble. His hands-on-hips stance used for the naughty sprogs did nothing to deter our little terrorist.  With a spring in his paws he pranced past the kitchen door, parading his latest victim with delight.

“Down!” I shouted.

“Drop!” bellowed the Hubble.

A skip and a hop was the terror’s response. His victim slipped slightly and was flicked into the air only to be champed down on again.  In my mind I was weighing up the collateral damage.  Could we lose this one?  Was she a favourite toy? I shook my head.  She was one of too many stuffed toy victims that had seen an ugly end thanks to this four legged brute.  He had to be stopped. Sally, the sweet patchwork doll had to be saved.

With a new directive in mind, I ran into the kitchen.  Ah yes!  Leftovers from the day before: sausages!

I quickly ran out again, my new negotiating tactic in hand.

“Henry, come!” My voice oozed sweetness and trust.

I edged closer to the perpetrator, his piercing gaze fixed on my outstretched hand. His wet nosed quivered.  I could see his jaw slacking.  This was it.  We had a deal. Two tentative steps brought us closer.  The air was heavy with suspense – and the smell of sausage.

Drop. The hostage was free. I threw the tasty morsel to the right as I made a dive to rescue Sally. Yuck! She was safe, albeit covered in slimy saliva. Her hands waved in victory as I shoved her up in the air above my head for all to see. The Hubble just shook his head and walked back into the house.

What? No victory parade? No pat on the back in appreciation for rescuing Sally from the little terror?

Loud chewing noises formed the background music to my victory walk indoors where I demanded an explanation from the Hubble.

He frowned. “Don’t you know you never negotiate with terrorists?”

“What do you mean? It was only as treat!”

“Yes, but now you’ve set a precedent.”

Urgh! No appreciation for my efforts.  I decided it wasn’t worth the effort to argue my point, so I took Sally to the washing machine for a quick spruce up before returning her home to my female sprog’s bedroom.

A scream forced me to abandon my post and run to assist the aforementioned sprog.

“What’s wrong?”

“Henry just stole Miss Giggles and he won’t give her back!” Tears and burbles of how much she loved Miss Giggles ensued.

Oh dear. The Hubble gave his dark know-it-all smile. Grr! I hate it when he’s right.

Walkies with Henry

If only the two legged creatures in charge of the world were just as simple, just as breath-takingly beautiful as our surroundings; imagine what a wonderful world this would be.

I breathe in the serenity of my surroundings and exhale the abusive stature of man. 

 

Under a canopy of green, I watch the clouds play hide and seek against the blue.

Basking in the panorama unfolding before me, I run.

Free as a bird, I fly down the hills and through the valley of dancing dandelions that smell of fox and deer.

 

The light is fading from the day, changing what was once bright and blue to shades of grey.

I can taste the cool breeze; soon, all the birds I love to chase will find their nests, leaving me to the silence and chilly air. I stand there, up on the hill, watching the life drain from another day.

 

Until we meet again, under the azure sky, I will listen to the soft lullaby of the birds as they sing their babies to sleep and doze to the hum of the beetles’ wings on their journey home.

Good-night.

 

 

 

 

My Dog, The Terrorist!

Eyes wide open with dark pupils glaring into my soul, his mouth remained clamped over his latest hostage. My pleas and persuasion had fallen on deaf ears and now my voice held an angry bite, ready to do battle.

“Put the doll down, Henry,” I growled.

His head cocked to one side, contemplation stealing across his chiselled facade. Sad, pathetic dolly arms flumped as he swung his head to check for attackers from behind.  He was safe for now.  He only had to face me.  But he and I both knew that back-up was on its way.  The heavy footfalls of the Hubble were unmistakeable.

“Drop it, now!” My hissing voice reminded me of a stand-off in a spaghetti western.  I should have worn my poncho for this! 

Big mistake. As my thoughts trailed away, he took the opportunity to run past my outstretched hands and scuttle out of the kitchen door into the garden, said hostage still trapped between his jaws. I screamed and pursued him, darting this way and that as he pranced before me.  Slight head turns gave him an advantageous view to predicting my next move. Without much effort he ducked and ran just far enough for me to be within touching distance of his wagging bushy tail.

A deep voice made us both jump.

“Henry! What are you doing?” demanded the Hubble. His hands-on-hips stance used for the naughty sprogs did nothing to deter our little terrorist.  With a spring in his paws he pranced past the kitchen door, parading his latest victim with delight.

“Down!” I shouted. 

“Drop!” bellowed the Hubble.

A skip and a hop was the terror’s response. His victim slipped slightly and was flicked into the air only to be champed down on again.  In my mind I was weighing up the collateral damage.  Could we lose this one?  Was she a favourite toy? I shook my head.  She was one of too many stuffed toy victims that had seen an ugly end thanks to this four legged brute.  He had to be stopped. Sally, the sweet patchwork doll had to be saved.

With a new directive in mind, I ran into the kitchen.  Ah yes!  Leftovers from the day before.  Sausages!

I quickly ran out again, my new negotiating tactic in hand.

“Henry, come!” My voice oozed sweetness and trust.

I edged closer to the perpetrator, his piercing gaze fixed on my outstretched hand. His wet nosed quivered.  I could see his jaw slacking.  This was it.  We had a deal. Two tentative steps brought us closer.  The air was heavy with suspense – and the smell of sausage. 

Drop. The hostage was free. I threw the tasty morsel to the right as I made a dive to rescue Sally. Yuck! She was safe, albeit covered in slimy saliva. Her hands waved in victory as I shoved her up in the air above my head for all to see. The Hubble just shook his head and walked back into the house.

What? No victory parade? No pat on the back in appreciation for rescuing Sally from the little terror?

Loud chewing noises formed the background music to my victory walk indoors where I demanded an explanation from the Hubble.

He frowned. “Don’t you know you never negotiate with terrorists?”

“What do you mean? It was only as treat!”

“Yes, but now you’ve set a precedent.”

Urgh! No appreciation for my efforts.  I decided it wasn’t worth the effort to argue my point, so I took Sally to the washing machine for a quick spruce before returning her home to my female sprog’s bedroom.

A scream forced me to abandon my post and run to assist the aforementioned sprog. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Henry just stole Miss Giggles and he won’t give her back!” Tears and burbles of how much she loved Miss Giggles ensued.

Oh dear. The Hubble gave his dark know-it-all smile. Grr! I hate it when he’s right. 

Out After Dark

Out on the open field where mice and hedgehogs stay, four children are playing hide and seek whilst others sleep away. Darting in and out of shadows, stifling giggles and snorts, they watch for movement and quickly scuttle to the next place before they get caught.

Some children prefer to watch television, or play on their PS4s. Not mine, oh no, they prefer the dark where only the moon glows.

“Tell their father.” some might say, “He’ll take better control.”

Alas, he is the one hunting his little ones, sending them running into the unknown. Foxes run back into their holes; pigeons shuffle their feathers to block out the laughter; teenagers sitting quietly on the bench watch the craziness they are after.  Unfortunately, their own parents are at home, not hunting children in the park.  Sitting there, on their phones – it’s not quite the same as searching for Pokemon after dark.

There’s nowhere to hide that is safe – their faithful dog is always at bay. His panting as loud as a lark, showing the hunter the way. As we sprint this way and that, carefully avoiding the cats, we find another place to hide; under the hedgerow close to the slide. Chests heaving with hearts thumping, the children disperse, forgetting bites and grazes which we’ll later nurse, once our game ends for this night; once the clouds claim the moonlight.

Time is up, everyone is found. Someone says, “Heel!” to the hound. Black and white cats draw near, once they see his lead on and it’s clear. We all head back through the grass; a slight dented pathway we must pass. Then on down the lane to our house; that’s four children, four cats, a dog and probably a mouse!

Now who could possibly wish for more – a house with an open green next door? So, if by chance you hear a noise and see six figures frolicking in a haze – that might be my family playing there.

Come and join us, if you dare!

Henry Visits the Seaside

Sprinkles of sunlight littered the beach as Henry took his first dip into the ocean.  The water was freezing cold, as always, but that didn’t deter him.  After all, all the other dogs were watching!

With big tigger leaps, he pounced above the foamy white waves, gulping salty water as he chugged along in the water.  Each choppy swish of waves swept over his head but his determination to continue outweighed the salty drink trying to pull him under.
At last he turned back to shore, a smile surfacing as he spotted us and galloped towards us.  His soaking body shook as his wet paws mixed with the sand and he shook half the ocean onto us with relish.  His grin said it all: swimming in the sea was fun!

Once the novelty wore off, his tired body craved fresh water and a blanket.  After a short rest he was up and about again, meeting friends and searching the wind blown sand dunes protecting the beach.  

After a spot of football with some four legged friends, it was time to return home. Unfortunately, with all the excitement, he was sick in the car and decided to do it on one of the sprogs!  She was not impressed at all!  Well, at least it was a safe trip home and a nice hot bath to remove the salty coat on his fur and replenish the clean water in his body.  And what better way to end the day but to curl up on the sofa and doze in front of the telly watching the olympics.

Good-night from Henry and he hopes you had a good Sunday too.