My world is so full of colours, and although I am tired and I see you more tired still, I realise you rely on me for all those colours. I am happy, you are happy, it is all we need.
Under the sunshine, we walk and smile at each other. But you walk so slowly, I worry.
I spend my days, walking with you, going to kennels, and taking you to the vets. But your eyes still shine brightly, and when you run in the garden, I know that puppy I never met is still there.
Meanwhile at kennels, I fall in love. She is the funniest lady I ever met. All gangly legs and anxieties, but as we walk and talk, I see this funny, playful and affectionate girl wanting so badly to come out. She looks somewhere between a saluki and a shepherd. Rough hair of black and white tufting out of her, not wanting to be tamed into a shiny coat. Big ears and a slightly screwed up smile, the result of a broken jaw as a young pup, she is stunning nonetheless in a tomeboyish way. She gets scared easily and sometimes she won’t even look at me, and it breaks my heart. She refuses to walk if my attention is elsewhere, if I am on the phone. She needs me to be her look out. I falter and hesitate, worried about you. I take you with me to work, you could use a bath and a groom anyway and we go for a walk. You don’t seem to mind, either of you. Mostly you ignore each other, but still I worry and hesitate. An application to adopt her comes in, and even though it isn’t right for my shy girl, I realise I cannot let her go and it’s time to take her home and see.
I have known Freya for many years. I remember her so well at the shelter back in Brasov. She was so scared, for many months I only saw a glimpse of her face. She hid in her kennel and only came out to look at new onlookers when she thought no one could see her. With my phone in hand, I could manage a few stollen images.
They called her Freaky at the shelter, and I guess it suits her. She looks at the world and see nothing but threats. I watch her grow up for two years back in Romania. And all this time, I only catch little impressions of her. The minute a stranger comes into the compound, she hides in her wooden kennel. Eventually the staff at the shelter take her out for us to see. she hits the ground and refuses to move. Her carer picks her up despite her weight and legs everywhere, and carries her on. She hangs in his arms, frightened dead weight, but she has waited long enough, we want to give her a chance at a happy ever after. She is at least able to travel, so we call her Freya and wait for her to arrive in the UK.
In the end, she waits nearly two years with us, before I get to know her and she starts to trust me, before I give her a home to call her own.
The new bundle arrives, finds a box of toys, and never looks back. I am sorry my Tups; I know you find it annoying. Squeaky toy noises permeate the house and you slink away. But you give her confidence and show her that it’s ok to let me kiss her and you don’t seem to mind all of her other antics much. It doesn’t take many days, before belly rubs are requested daily, and those long legs kick and swim in the air with excitement.
Every evening, we open the gate to the big garden beyond the terrace and walk down to the river together. Freya runs to and fro in the long grass, whilst you and I take a more sedate pace and follow her crazy antics. You cling to me like glue, but I notice you run more and roll in the grass with abandon more often. We all feel younger for the new injection of crazy in our lives. We laugh and smile and take care of each other like never before. I know you sometimes wish it was still just you and me, so we spend the late evening, the two of us, watching the bats fly in the twilight. Thank you my boy for understanding, and for allowing me to love another. I think you know I will need her, when you leave.