beezle's dog blog

Photo of Beezle by Craig Fordham for Country Living Mag.

 This blog post is dedicated to Beezle who has died aged nearly 16. The inspiration for The Dog, Ray, he defeated death so many times during his life. He was kicked in the head by a horse, broke his front leg in numerous places and was sewn up too many times to count after running far too fast over flints after things that ran even faster.  But eventually he stopped eating and grew as light as a nest.

 A gentle, loyal,brave,curious, loving and noble friend he was loved by so many. Even the plumber who was mending something in the house the day he died and had known him for most of his life shed a tear when he said goodbye to him

He enjoyed sharing the limelight on publishing occasions and always put on an obliging show. He liked meetings his fans. Here he is at the launch of our book

When I first started writing this blog Beezle made his first contribution and it seems apt that I put it here.   He thought that blogs were more than likely just rather boring personal facts and opinions of the writer. I imagine he is right.                                                        

                                                            Dog Blog

All you out there

I’d like to share

The hair and now

 Of this dog.

This, -  my dog blog.

My feelings, asleep, in front of the log

Burner

about a catalogue of films by

Herzog

(Werner)

my memo of bones and their various tastes

How I would save

 the ozone

How many squirrels and stuff

 I’ve chased.

A detailed account of my very best runs

My view on the economy.

Pensions, hedge funds…

My opinion of soap stars and bio-diversity

Why I slept through my owner’s

Wedding anniversary.

Why long walks can make me weary

My thoughts on the 9/11 conspiracy theory

My very interesting dialogue

With next door’s dog

How I bit the guitarist

Who used to play

 with the Trogs.

I hear that cats are now the new dogs.

So I’ll probably change it to

Dog’s mog blog.

Any feed backs?

To www world wide woof

We buried him in the horse's field next to his beloved friend Jai the first wolfhound who died 8 years and two days before him. We made a nice grave and placed flowers on the top which later, when our backs were turned, Harry the horse ate.

After the last blog post Widget flew to freedom and the next day I discovered this little chap in the long grass. Unlike Widget he cannot and still cannot feed himself and makes very loud noises and stands with his scarlet red mouth open demanding his food. He is a very sweet writing companion and sits on the back of my chair whilst I work. He is called Capote after Truman Capote who had a pet raven.

 Then last week I had a message from a vet that he had found a young crow in the middle of the road. When I went to look at him he was a rook that they had named Croaky.(obviously thinking it was a crow) We thought they'd be good company for each other as rooks are very social birds - also he could feed himself. I had hoped that he would teach Cap to do it himself but whilst he helps himself to the food in the bowl Cap just stands by it and opens his scarlet red mouth and goes "Feed me!" When I had him in the house he woke me every morning at 4.15 with the dawn chorus crowing "I'm awake!!" He probably woke my neighbours too.

Here they are just making friends in the shade tunnel. They really do chat to each other, making funny little squawking noises and sit side by side on the branch like a couple of old Victorian matriarchs in their black mourning clothes. Cap is in the foreground.

 I'm still volunteering at the Wiltshire Wild Life Hospital. A lot of the hedgehogs have been released back in the wild now and people who had found them in their gardens come back and claim them. Those that people bring in have their names written on the box and it does look as if Fiona or John or Felicity could be the hedgehogs. "Good morning Fiona" I say as I pick one up and put it in the holding box. I think the other volunteers wonder and probably exchange glances. Some of them when you come to clean them out are tidy creatures. The hedgehogs - not the volunteers. Though I'm not saying the volunteers aren't tidy.Others when you open the box look as if they're living in a hotel room that the Rolling Stones have recently vacated - spilt ashtrays, half eaten food everywhere, things ripped up, bedding strewn all over the place, food bowls tipped upside down.....

Pixie is feeling a little lost without Beezle but has still offered up an interesting fact.

An Indian Moon moth only lives for a week.

so Beezle did very well living for nearly 832 weeks.

 The last of the tree peony flowers

 As Sensei (Zen) Beezle and Nietzsche would say And those that were seen dancing were thought of as insane by those who could not hear the music.

Mercies

by Don Paterson

She might have had months left of her dog-years,

but to be who? She'd grown light as a nest

and spent the whole day under her long ears

listening to the bad radio in her breast.

On the steel bench, knowing what was taking shape

she tried and tried to stand, as if to sign

that she was still of use, and should escape

our selection. So I turned her face to mine,

and seeing only love there - which, for all

the wolf in her, she knew as well as we did-

she lay back down and let the needle enter.

And love was surely what her eyes conceded

as her stare grew hard, and one bright aerial

quit making its report back to the centre,