The Strangest Surprise

Wow. What a difference a day makes.

Saturday 16th April 2011. That's when it all changed, when little Willow joined the Eagle pride, moving us up one notch from a household of 2 to 3. We are truly blessed! I am trying to restrain myself from using the exclamation point excessively and apologise for peppering the post with the diminutive word 'little' so many times, but do prepare for lots and lots of puppy shots.

Willow is enjoying the garden. And husband and I are enjoying his enjoyment of it. He can't see the dishevelled beds or cut down trees, he doesn't mind weeds, or the log pile. I probably shouldn't let him go into the borders but they don't exist as such and whilst the pots intrigue him, he seems to prefer chewing on grass, twigs, mud and me...

Here is his first twig! Or part of it.

After reducing the twig to bite size he bounced round the garden rather excitedly with it.

Then it was off to investigate the lavender, which reminds me - I must take cuttings whilst there is lots of new growth. When I do you can read about it here.

Not quite into a routine, at 9 weeks of age the pup's got his priorities in life pretty much right - nothing better than eat, sleep and play. We are not being too strict. Not just yet. The first week is about letting him 'settle in'. And getting him familiar with his name.

The stack of puppy books I should be reading has for now been put on hold. What I am perusing is Love Signs by Linda Goodman. I've been short on excuses to open it for a while, but Willow's puppy pack informs me that he was born on the 11th of Feb. This makes him Aquarius and me Leo. I could not resist a dip.

The first thing I note is that 'compatibility chapter' is remarkably long! According to Goodman the Eagle/Willow relationship will be a 'carnival of the silly and the sublime'. How did she know already? Leo and Aquarius also 'adore surprises', are both 'progressive-minded, both generous and magnanimous of spirit...' No wonder I love this book.

There are some notes of caution however. Husband is also Leo, so we form something of a mutual admiration society. Even though the little 'Water Bearer' won't be bothered in the slightest by us 'Lions' taking the lead, when we do clash Goodman likens it to 'a herd of Buffalo meeting head-on with a herd of elephants.' Oh boy - I don't think my garden is big enough for that. The words 'deadlocked' and 'stubborn' follow in quick succession, but I am skim-reading by this point. When I reach the statement that both Leo and Aquarius 'tend to be tall and handsome' I shut the book. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and even if I sat the dog on my head I'd still be shy of the average Miss Universe winner, who stands apparently at 5' 11.

Willow is handsome. His eyes are a greyish-blue-green. And the little fellow is fitting in mighty fine.

My hands are literally full so nothing much has happened in the garden. He loves cuddles and as a growing pup needs the sleep. He is on my lap now having a little schluff. Not even the sound of the camera shutter wakes him. Tomorrow the last laburnum shall come down.

Puppy Bits and Bobs

It is hard waiting for something you really want, so to while away the hours between now and the arrival of Willow, the whippet pup, I am supposed to be digging up tree stumps in my garden. But I am not. Instead I am enjoying any excuse to spend money on items I deem necessary for the puppy's safe arrival.

So here is my breakdown of what I've got, although none of it is particularly practical. The theme is more fun for now, with plenty of natural yarns.

This is the first item I bought Willow, from a lovely shop called Mungo & Maud. It is very easy to spend lots of money there - everything is gorgeous and utterly covetable. I shall be saving £140 for a small dog bed in grey that Willow will be gifted once he has passed his crate training. The rope knot ball is better for him to chew on than my fingers for the 2 hour car journey home.

This squeaky bone in ticking fabric I also purchased at Mungo & Maud. That shop is trouble I tell ya!

And I shouldn't forget the woolly penguin, also bought at...

Well, enough of that. Here's the little fellow's crib. My father keeps referring to it as a prison, but that is ridiculous! The puppy is used to crate training, but we shall be referring to it as 'cot-beddy'. Not a place of punishment but for rest.

The fleece bedding was purchased separately off ebay. It has a waterproof base which is handy although it does crinkle a little, a bit like the beds in Halls at Uni.

I had to get him a little smiley face. This one I picked up at College Farm in the week.

Oh yes, and squeaky piggy!

And a little tyre for his teeth which I picked up at Pet Vet just by Highgate tube along with some biodegradable poop bags. Joy!

Probably the most sensible items purchased besides the poop bags are Fuzz Yard puppy shampoo and conditioner. Not so sensible the prices, each just shy of £20 - more than I tend to spend on my own hair - but I was dazzled by the trillions of Swarovski crystals that embellished just about every item in the Harrods pet shop. Hopefully Fuzz Yard can be found for less, but in their favour the packaging is great, they are not poultry flavoured and shall be kinder on us both being completely organic. I went for aloe vera + lavender.

A nice soft blanket that will then become his towel for walkies. This one is super absorbent and cost £8, again from College Farm.

And last but by no means least, his hot water bottle, bought for him by 'Mummy Sanaz', which is how my sister shall be known to him.

It is a beautiful grey wool, but I am making a temporary cover for it out of Ian Mankin ticking in grey, to see it through the teething months.

The water bottle is handwoven in the UK.

1,2, Tree

This week some trees have come down in my garden. By mid-morning Monday the first was gone. My father did it. He came over with a new saw, climbed the ladder and got to work. It took all of 5 minutes to do this:

...and create this: a daunting pile but nothing the pruners could not deal with.

The tree is/was a laburnum. The second followed suit. Two down, one laburnum go. And then the purple Lilac. And then the Eucalyptus.

Completely besides the point as a child I always counted '1, 2, tree...' No idea why I dropped the 'h'.

Husband managed well with the heavier logs. Took to it with a relish that made me proud. Even though handsome to behold when stacked high, the chopping of trees is to be encouraged tree pending. I fought tooth and nail to save the 150 year old oak at the bottom of my parents' garden. Their neighbour complained about leaves falling onto his land and applied to the council more than once to have it felled despite the TPO on it. I decided to share our outrage with the Hendon and Finchley Times. They sent a journalist over to cover the story. We won. Twice.

Father has left me with stumps to contend with. They could be fashioned into curious places to prop a glass of wine, which always comes handy in the garden. Of course, this is laziness talking. If no blogs are forthcoming for a while, I'm most probably digging.

I do feel guilt as I look at the stumps of what was. Eleanor Sinclair Rohde's essay Garden Craft in the Bible comes to mind. She points out that whilst to Western minds the word 'garden' conjures up flower-filled images, records demonstrate that the gardens of the oldest civilisations were ones of trees and scented shrubs. Shade, scent and water were 'chief requisites', particularly in the gardens of the ancient East where paradise was supposed to be. The record of it in Genesis makes no mention of flowers, but does cedars, firs and chestnuts to name a but a few for god grew 'every tree that was pleasant to the sight and good for food'. Well, the opposite seems to be taking place my garden... to hell with shade. I'm even getting rid of the fig.

My plot does have something in common with paradise. Although not on a 'high mountain', Muswell Hill is in keeping with the biblical veneration for 'high places'. And even though the trees are getting chopped, they will be replaced, most probably with a tall pencil cyprus or two.

And, if it is any form of consolation, we are calling the whippet pup Willow. He arrives this Saturday so can help me dig. Hip hip.