Dogs and other tales.

Beside the eleven cats Ringo and Maureen had Tiger, a miniature white poodle and Sofie dog a rough collie.

   

One night in early October 1973 Mike phoned to say he was working late, when he finally got home he asked me to help him get some stuff out of the car, I picked up his brief case and a Yorkshire terrier fell out, poor little thing, but how was I to know. Mike had decided that because she was such a girly dog he would name her, FESTER!!!

Kenny Smith the chauffeur lived at the other end of the terrace of four Victorian cottages, he had a beautiful Red Setter called Rufus. He loved living at Tittenhurst and happiness for him was following the tractor all day.

Kenny had overslept, but that did not stop Rufus, he heard the tractor and jumped straight through the window smashing the glass.

Kenny, Gill, Mike and I went to the cinema, Maureen’s Mum Flo baby sat, she loved kids. On our return we went for a nightcap to Kenny and Gill’s suddenly Gill walked out of the kitchen with an empty bread bag and the remains of a pound of butter. Oh my God he must have made sandwiches, we all turned to Rufus looking very sheepish in the corner.

Kenny lived with Gill, another Liverpudlian and her little boy called Leigh. Our Lee would often play with him, cherub face but a little bugger. One day Stella the nanny came running into the kitchen to say she couldn’t find Lee, sheer panic took over, a mental picture of children floating and the choices were the swimming pool, the Diana fountain and of course, the huge lake, Maureen ran to the swimming pool, I ran to Diana and Stella to the lake all shouting her name. I had never been so scared in all my life, 79 acres and no clues, after half an hour, or so it felt, two little figures appeared hidden in the rhododendrons. The relief was palpable. Needless to say we returned to the house and a bottle of brandy came out.

One day a stray dog was lurking around, feeling sorry for him Kenny fed him, which then set off a chain reaction I forgot to mention it was an Irish wolf hound, looked a bit scary but after being confronted by him in the stable block he was fine, unfortunately he followed me home and banged open the door, Fester took one look and for the first time managed to climb the stairs in record time. We decided we should take him to the dog pound in Bracknell. I phoned Ringo and explained the situation and asked if they would look after Fester, his words were, I’ll come over, and Mike and I will go, by this time I was holding his collar, as soon as he heard the back door of the main house open he started to bark Ringo was walking down the pathway we called the Wibbly Wobbly way, as the barks got louder then there was silence, and feet running back to the house, the phone rang, “I tell you what Barb, bring Fester over here and you can go with Mike.” Mike drove his mini with the dog sitting on the back seat and his head in the front after the tail managed to rip off the stick-on window heater. I was sent in to talk to the police and was told I will come and get him out of the car for you, he took one look and said, tell you what, I’ll open the kennel and you can put him in. All such brave men.

One lunch time I took all three dogs for a walk, we ended up at the lake, I suddenly noticed Tiger was rolling, bad sign because there was a huge amount of Canadian geese. I could see her covered in the stuff, mentally I thought must grab her when we get to the house forgetting she could get in the cat flap, as I opened the door I hear Ringo calling from the lounge, his hands were covered and his request was, “is this shit?”, I confirmed the diagnosis and grabbed hold of Tiger to bath her in the main bathroom. Adding shampoo she suddenly turned a vivid shade of green, so I rinsed her off, dried her and sent her down to show off her new look, I don’t know why he preferred her white, I thought she looked very fetching. Needless to say, after another shampoo she was normal again.