Blog Directories

Flannel and calm Chi

Flannel

The rains have gone – it was endless – days and days of rain. Boggy land, mud, wet dogs: rain and a doggy pension don’t go together. But now, the sun is shining, the sky is blue, the Mediterranean an even deeper blue – a perfect south of France winter day. The dog towels and blankets are washed and the floors have been cleaned. All is well with the world except there is a hurricane at Pension Milou and his name is Flannel.

Let it be known: I don’t take puppies, especially boisterous male puppies and especially Weimaraners. So what is Flannel doing here? When his owner called, recommended by another client, I said NO in large letters. Yes, I know Weimaraners are beautiful and anyone who has seen William Wegman’s amazing photographs http://www.wegmanworld.com can’t fail to be blown away but, you see, I had a girl Weimaraner at Christmas: beautiful Syrah, very high energy, so it didn’t take much working out that a 5 month old male wouldn’t exactly add to a peaceful life around here. Flannel was too young, the breed too energetic - been there, done that, got the puppy tee shirt – give me the oldies, give me the well-behaved dogs.

A day or so later, Flannel’s owner, such a nice lady and so persuasive, called again and asked if I’d reconsider. She’d seen the website – she knew this place would be perfect for Flannel.

So he’s here. Someone send me back to school and teach me to say NO and mean it! He’s beautiful of course: velvet coat, divine eyes, when he stands on his hind legs he’s almost human but he has a few small faults. He eats plants, stones, fabric, furniture. He thinks the house is a racetrack. He pees in the house from time to time. He wakes me in the night - every night - to go out and we walk around the garden at 4 a.m. Gosh, it’s fun running a dog hotel.

My best friend, Candy, sends ‘calme chi’ by email. ‘Chi master says every experience is a blessing. Celebrate the learning.’ ‘Positive energy,’ she says. ‘Maybe you should sit down with Flannel and try to figure out how his energy is working – that way you’ll learn how to work with him. The chi way would not be to try to overpower the situation but to go with it.’

Right then. Note to self: keep bucket of disinfectant ready. Look up furniture catalogues to replace chewed items. No pruning needed in the garden for six months – dog has done it for me. Throw out alarm clock - got a live one: grey velvet with beautiful green eyes – programmed to go off when I’m in my deepest dream-filled sleep.

So, we plod on. I’m getting used to the chaos. Flannel is learning. One more week to go before I get a full night’s sleep again. And will I take him again? When I look at the chaos around here or look in the mirror at my face, wrecked even more than usual by lack of sleep – of course I won’t. When I look into those beautiful Weimaraner eyes, yes of course I will.

And so? Watch this space…

A sea of dogs for Christmas

Christmas Eve

Christmas and New Year passed in a blur of dogs: labradors, goldens, spaniels, Jack Russell terriers, a couple of Bedlingtons, Vizlas, a highly strung Weimaraner, a lovely old hunting dog, a wire-haired dachshund, a poodle, a Tibetan spaniel and more. Some stayed just for Christmas, some came for New Year, others were here for the duration. It’s always the busiest time at Pension Milou and every year I say I will take fewer dogs but it’s hard to say ‘non’ to regular clients. The dogs know me and the owners are comfortable leaving them here. One day, I’ll disappear to a desert island for Christmas but then what would I do? – miss the dogs, of course. Kind clients brought me food parcels – well, fresh veggies and salad was what I needed and the dogs always appreciate a crisp carrot.

Pickle and Rupert

There were two ‘sittings’ for meals. It's amazing how quickly the dogs get into this routine, how they allow other dogs to eat before them. They don’t have long to wait tho. No menu to peruse, no decision on what to eat, no wine waiter. They pretty much clear their bowls as they hit the floor and then it’s time for the slower feeders to get their food.

Maddie playing Peekaboo

A golden retriever ate a Christmas present; a lovely old hound had an epileptic fit but was OK and then, one cold morning, we woke to no water. Taps empty. It was 6.30 a.m. Too early to phone my neighbours to ask if they had the same problem. I had bottled water so no one went thirsty. At 8 o'clock I called the neighbour above me. They had water. Then I called Agnès, the neighbour below me. She had water. Oh Lordy, no water and a sea of soon-to-be-thirsty dogs. My neighbour suggested I call the water company. Somehow – goodness knows how? – they were able to tell me that the ‘counter’ at the top of the track was frozen and that I needed to defrost it with boiling water. Hey, this is the south of France. Water doesn’t freeze here. Agnès told me to fill up a watering can at her place. The track up to the water counter is steep – good for those thigh muscles - and it took two kettles of boiling water to get things moving again and then back up to the top, yet again, to lag the counter.

Tessa

Happy New Year or Meilleurs Vœux as they say in France!

Bosun - le chien pêcheur de Monaco

Bosun and Toffee

Bosun was a black Labrador who, over the years, has spent a lot of time at Pension Milou. One shouldn't have favourite dogs but Bosun, despite all his problems, was one of mine.

Bosun ended up at Battersea Dogs' Home, 18 months old, unwanted, chucked out because his owners had split up. Poor Bosun had a damaged soul. Maybe I loved him so much because I identified. Divorce affects dogs as well as children.

But life was to look up for our hero. He was adopted by Nick, Victoria and their little daughter, Daisy. They discovered he was scared of men and terrified of noise. He didn't know how to climb stairs. He didn't understand that the comfortable bed in front of the fire was his: he wanted to sleep outside, which is where he'd slept all his life.

Bosun and Bill

Eventually his new family moved to Monaco. When they went skiing, he loved the snow but more than anything he loved to swim in the sea. He dived for stones and was known by the locals as 'le chien pêcheur' - the Fishing Dog.

Bosun with his all-time best buddy, Alfie, the Jack Russell

But all his life Bosun had a screw loose. He, like many dogs, was scared of thunder and fireworks, but Bosun was scared of the sounds of the autoroute and later, as he got older, he spent more time being scared than being happy. It got so bad, he'd be afraid to enter a room, even scared of his food bowl yet at no time did his beautiful temperament change. He never ever showed aggression. He still had good moments when he'd play ball, swim, roll on his back, climb all over the people he loved. But the good times got shorter and the bad times got longer. He'd dig into bookshelves, he'd try and hide behind the loo - he wanted to be in the dark, hidden - and of course he did a lot of damage trying to get there.

Quiet times on the terrace with Ziggy

He underwent all sorts of tests which showed he had thyroid problems. Medication helped for a while, as did tranquillizers but not for long and a few days ago it was obvious he was one very scared and depressed doggy who was even refusing his food. Life was in the too hard basket for Bosun. En route to the vet's office, Victoria stopped off at his favourite beach - perhaps the sea would do its magic? - but le chien pêcheur wasn't interested any more.

And so yesterday, aged eleven years, sweet Bosun was put to sleep.

'Hey Bosun! - here's a ball I'm throwing for you - here it comes............good boy! - I knew you'd catch it.'