Covid-19 has given me a treasured gift. Health issues have kept me on lockdown level 5 since March, thankfully being able to work from home.
The gift, though, is the time I have had with my five beautiful, oddball dogs.
As Washington Post columnist Petula Dvorak notes next door, the dogs are here to save us. And, of course, the cats and other animals people share their lives with.
For many people locked at home, one of the main disruptions is that their sense of routine is scrambled. In a home with a pet, this is not possible. There is nothing with a better internal clock than a pet, for this example, The Furry Five.
Zeus, the sort-of Boerboel, gets a painkiller/anti-inflammatory pill every morning and evening to help the discomfort caused by his deformed back and hindquarters (genetic). Then, to be fair, they all get a biscuit.
The morning pill is delivered at the same time as mom has her first cup of coffee, so that’s the signal for all five to crowd the kitchen. Not much dog-timekeeping needed there.
It’s the afternoon/evening one that is interesting. It used to be delivered as soon as mom got home, any time between 4 and 5.
Now, at that time I’m either at my desk or on the couch, so engrossed by the WildEarth sunset safari drive I don’t notice the time. But not for long. Little but fierce Belly, a rescue terrier saved from a tied and dumped black rubbish bag in which her five siblings died, starts. She sits directly across the table from me, her little chin resting on top, and her eyes piercing mine. All I have to say is “is it time?” and she’s off in circles, barking, heading for the kitchen.
Patchy and Rocky, the two rescued from random streets in such bad condition they were not expected to survive the night at my wonderful, sainted vet’s surgery, follow from their relative couches.
Bumble, the rescued little pure white lab and something else with yellow eyes, and who sleeps with my son in the granny flat, comes running in. They wait in a row, in the same spot every time, and gently take their treats.
When I badly needed a shoulder to hug and cry on after Jan and Sean died, Zeussy obliged. He sat at my side on the couch as I enfolded him and sobbed, sogging his coat. I told him it was the least he could do when I put up with drool-wet legs as he sits in the same place while I eat dinner and pleads earnestly with his eyes, and an occasional gentle paw, looking for a share. I try not to encourage him.
Zeus rules the bed and only Belly and I get the nod. Belly sleeps curled up by my tummy and Zeus sleeps, well, pretty much where he likes. Sometimes we curl feet together and sometimes he rests his head on my shoulder for a cuddle, but something is always touching.
They also seem to have a set time for their daily group howl, always in the living room.
And maybe it’s Covid madness or maybe just for the sheer relief of it, I join in.
The Independent on Saturday