THE COVID MONTHS | PAW PRINTS

Bertie and Maisie

For a month now I’ve been avoiding writing anything personal.

Our pack leader, the hugely dominant and determined head of our family, Maisie, left our lives four Sundays ago. Suddenly, shockingly and forever she was gone. She died quietly in the night when we were asleep. Bertie, her brother was with her. We have buried her in the garden wrapped in a piece of fine muslin that is years old and full of happy memories. We covered her in flowers and placed her in a little homemade cardboard coffin. Bertie very gently sniffed her and then lay down beside her. Mike and Craig who epitomise everything that is open-hearted, warm and generous about the people of Teesside offered to come straight over to dig her grave. They brought us a bunch of peach gladioli. We made her grave deep so that she was well protected and have sown it with wild flowers and spring bulbs.  I stood inside and lifted her in; the last love I could give her. We have placed a bird bath nearby and planted a huge, exquisitely perfumed rambling rose to grow through the trees.

Bertie and I have developed new routines that have helped us both. He is allowed to sleep on the bed now, although I did draw the line the other morning when he jumped on me at 4.30 wagging his tail and barking loudly to let me know he wanted to play. He goes to StarPaws two days a week to play with his buddies and have his head turned by his girlfriends. He and Maisie have gone there for years, it’s their home from home. A rambling Victorian vicarage, it is full of comfy sofas with a large garden right next to the woods that they love to meander in.

Bertie is now allowed to sit on the adjoining sofa  with me when Zoom is on. He is also getting a few too many treats which I have reluctantly begun to cut back on. It takes away our satisfaction, an annoying necessity that only I understand.

Bertie’s early story wasn’t easy.

I was born on a farm, my mother had eight of us.

I was the smallest and I got pushed around a lot.

The milk always seemed to run out by the time it was my turn. I felt hungry a lot of the time.

I've got a hump on my back from being squashed by my brothers & sisters before I was born.

One day I heard them talking about me. The farmer said that if nobody chose me I'd have to hunt for my own food

or starve.

When people started to turn up to choose one of us to take home with them nobody picked me.

Someone called me a skinny little runt. I got really worried. I wished I could ask my mum what to do.

She always knows what's best. But they took her away from us. I'm not allowed to see her anymore.

I know she's around. But I don't know if she still remembers me now.

One day these 2 people turned up. They wanted a girl.

They picked up my sister Maisie and started cuddling her. Everybody loves Maisie.

I felt cold and prickly all over. There was only Maisie and me left now.  Everyone else had gone. I was going to be

left behind all alone. Then I got an idea. I've got big brown, velvety eyes. So I stared really hard at the lady holding

Maisie. She spoke to the other lady with her,

’It seems a shame to leave him behind. Shall we take both of them?’

‘Oh! I'm not sure. You're not supposed to have brother & sister.’

 I just kept staring hard. And then I wagged my tail.

Maisie has always bossed me around all my life. She says she’s allowed because I owe our lovely new family to her.

I don't mind I know she loves me. And I love her.

 Now that she’s not here I’m a bit lonely sometimes. We always did everything together, we were never apart.

 But I’m getting used to it bit by bit. Maisie was a much better hunter than me. I’ve always seen my job as keeping

other dogs, cats and horses in their place. She preferred hunting rabbits and moles.  I found that a bit

 overrated.

 If I had a nice spot on the sofa that she fancied, Maisie could make me move. Just by staring she could wake me

from the deepest of sleeps. Even just passing her in the kitchen could be a bit hairy if she felt like

showing off. I’ve had my ears bitten a lot in those moments and my nose is permanently scarred from one of her

nips. So it’s probably true to say that I am more relaxed now. And I’m definitely getting my humans round my

little paw. They will do anything for me which is long overdue.

I have started playing with my toys again this week, it makes me happy to give ratty a good biffing or make

Gruffalo squeak and squirm.

The last seven months have turned all of our lives upside down in ways we could never have imagined. Over the last few weeks I have had several meetings with tutors and supervisors. Many of them have voiced their distress that a new academic year has had to begin online. They look back to this time last year and remember meeting their groups in Harewood, The Guild Hall and Opal. Trying to make sure students got to the right rooms so that nobody was left behind in Freudz.  Some of them are nervous about first meetings online. Some are cross about this unwanted blow from the fates. But they are all full of passion, determination and resolve. I am in awe of their endlessly creative ideas about how to ensure students experience the richness, depth and vibrancy of learning that they intend to ensure for them. They are resilient, extraordinarily co-operative and disarmingly humorous about their learning strategies and lesson plans. One tutor came to a meeting feeling a bit under the weather and wearinga glamorous fluffy dressing gowns. I tried to suppress the feeling that I was under dressed and grungy by comparison. How could anyone be so glamourous and yet feel so unwell?

Teaching through Zoom requires all sorts of add -ons for tutors – back up platforms at the ready in case, as it did on one eventful day last term, Zoom goes down. Re-writing courses to tailor their delivery to the digital environment. Questions about what are reasonable ground rules. Staying on-camera during the training? No eating toast even if students’ breakfasts have been delayed? Is the family cat allowed to sit with its tail online for as long as it likes? These nervous ponderings are helped by a few perks. ‘I can get groups back from break out rooms when I WANT with the click of a button!’  ‘When I meet my group for the first time I will be able to see everyone’s name. I don’t feel worried I will forget them.’

The personal lives of tutors run the gamut of the nation’s. Living alone with additional lockdown restrictions. Juggling the responsibilities of lone parenting. Supporting elderly family members who live far away. Waiting for overdue routine medical treatment. Against a backdrop of ever more complicated tiered restrictions we all come together with the shared aspiration of promoting mental health and emotional well being. The next few months will rattle and bang at our shutters. The Covidian winds will do their best to wreak havoc with individual well being, daring and double daring resilience to hold out in the face of their relentless demands. However tempting it may be we cannot give in to those sirens trying to lure us to the rocks of despair, apathy, indolence and defeatism. By working together we can help children who are experiencing anxiety, stress and depression, We can help adults juggling with too many impossible demands. We can help those isolated by age, loss of role and societal devaluing. When our own storms blow us off course we must find a way to dive beneath the waves to the peace of the ocean below so that we can replenish ourselves.

For myself, I have challenged myself for months now to be more positive and to find something I enjoy and value about these times. I have finally found it! I can indulge my love of garlic as much as I want whenever I want without checking which day of the week it is or thinking about who I may be seeing tomorrow. I can tell my trainer she was wrong. You can have your garlic and see your clients. Long live that Stinking Rose![i]

[i] Henri Leclerc named garlic Rose Puante in 1918