This season’s wild effort to make my own life more complicated has been to foster a blind, deaf 15-year-old pug. And whilst this has made life considerably harder, it’s also been rather magical.
I can’t tell you her name or the gods will smite me (AKA the pug charity trustees) but I can tell you that she has already earned her second name, which is Bones – so she is Miss Bones to you. And yes, I sing this in a Billie Holiday fashion.
Miss Bones can actually see some contrast – the difference between a dark floor and a light wall, for example, but it’s not reliable. And she can hear odd things – if I really bellow, or thump the floor, that can occasionally work. But mostly Miss Bones is in her own little world.
Her owner died. Imagine being fostered out at 15 after a lifetime with one family. When she arrived she was frightened and in flight mode. Very hard for a pug that can barely even see if it’s day or night. After a day or two crashing around trying to escape, the pheromone diffuser and industrial strength hemp oil kicked in and she settled, found her stride, started to trust us, and we formed some routines.
She’s amazing. She’s mapped out the ground floor of the house, doing laps over and over, touching things with her nose to test the boundaries, and walks around it without hesitation now. We have to be careful of not ambushing her by leaving things lying around where she’s not expecting them. Added bonus that daughter now has to be tidier, or Miss Bones goes a cropper.
Alice Pickle, pug incumbent, isn’t a huge fan of Miss Bones. Alice doesn’t understand that Bones is blind, and why she blunders into her. As for Miss Bones, she barely knows Alice is there, and the two of them ricochet round the house like Roombas, never quite bashing into each other but veering at the last second. I expect they’ll get over it – they’re already starting to sit closer together (see pic, Alice at front).
But I tell you all this because you never know when you’re going to be called on to do a good thing – and Christmas, whether you’re religious or not, is a time for doing good things, I feel. So I did a good thing.
We will of course hang onto Miss Bones now for the duration – there’s no way I’m putting her through another move at her age. People have (not unreasonably) told me I’m mad, aren’t I busy enough etc. But when I see little Bones do an excited blind jump in the kitchen because she’s happy and wants attention, or watch her pop down the steps outside confidently because she knows where they are now, eager for her walk, or feel her sit on my feet so she can be close while I work… well none of that matters. And so yes, this dog was for Christmas, and will be for life. Welcome to the family, Miss Bones.
#AdoptDontShop
Sam Harrington-Lowe
Director & Managing Editor, Title Media
Title Sussex Magazine, Silver Magazine
The Whistler 