A visit from Dizzy
Well, finally I’ve dragged myself to my computer – helped somewhat by a delivery this morning of a flat-pack computer table so I can finally release my dining table for its intended use. The postie also brought a rather sad bundle – the squeaky ‘Dirty Rotten Kitty’ cat toy that I had ordered for B but had forgotten all about. Bless him, he said to Hubby ‘I’m afraid I’m the bearer of a rather sad parcel’ (everyone in the village seems to know everything about us). Never mind, the kitty can sit next to me on my new computer desk and keep me company.
After a horrible, horrible week which left me thinking that I’d never post another thing as I’d never be able to bear all the pics of B, our weekend was a little happier and surprisingly dog-filled. Lovely, lovely J invited the boys to stay for the weekend, promising a fun and E number filled time, which put a smile back on their sad little faces. We dropped them off on Saturday afternoon, only for J to be called to the stadium as an unwanted greyhound had turned up there. God only knows how she does her job and remains the most optimistic person I know. Anyhoo, Hubby gave her a lift, and they shortly returned with a rather sad looking black greyhound with a white ‘tuxedo’, who had been an ‘unwanted family pet’. Of course, as soon as J took one look at her astonishingly thick coat (and smelled her), it was at once obvious that she was an unwanted racer, who had never seen the inside of a house in her life. Given her obvious rejection, the little girl was very friendly, and gave Hubby’s ears a jolly good wash while J looked her over. She discovered that this poor little love had not only got a good few scars and scrapes, but also still had her stitches in from recently being neutered (J insists on this to deter disreputable people trying to breed from her rescue dogs). Watching her turn round in circles once, twice, three times before settling in her bed, J decided to call her ‘Dizzy’. It suited her.
Seeing as J was looking after our offspring as well as her own, we offered (with heavy hearts it had to be said), to take the little scrap and give her a bath and a good meal, then bring her back in the morning. She was as good as gold all the way home in the car, and was equally well behaved in the bath, where she seemed to lose half her bodyweight in muck and old fluff. She seemed unused to the warm water, and sat down, rather wobbly legged in the water while Hubby gently washed her. Lifting her out proved a problem, but again she accepted all this silently, and even managed a wag of the tail when devouring an enormous dinner.
Once dry and clean, we got the chance to have a proper look at her. She really was pretty, with big ginger eyes (slightly boss-eyed, I have to say but who’s perfect?), and a super-soft, fluffy coat. She had several scruffs and bald bits, and her little nose was a bit bald, but she was sweet and friendly. Greyhounds really do have a lovely nature.
We built a fire, then pulled the old duvet that J had given us into the lounge, where she curled up (after doing her customary circling), watching us a bit suspiciously. Shortly, she obviously decided that we were okay after all, and joined us on the sofa, where she wedged her head in my armpit and fell fast asleep. She cried a little when we finally left her for the night, but soon settled and the next thing we knew it was 10am. She was ridiculously pleased to see us and trotted happily off with Hubby for a walk, before diving straight back inside, jumping up all over me with muddy paws, then rushing straight in and up onto the sofa, where she pawed all the cushions up into a big heap and planted herself on top like the king of the castle.
