Frieda (featured as the header of this blog) is beautiful and wise. She is also very funny, and adores affection. When we are at home, that is. At home she will lie really close to me on the bed or on the couch and sometimes use her nose to prod me for love. She is a snuggler, and even cuddles with Chassie the cat, who adores her with a face licking passion. He seeks her out to lie next to. She knows words; biscuit and breakfast and supper and walk. When we say them her eats prick up and she bounces around, digging up the couch and throwing the cushions everywhere. At the park though she tolerates any public displays of affection grudgingly and runs away to do her own thing as fast as she can. She likes stealing found toys, and will play ball occasionally; totally on her own terms. Frieda is sensitive to loud bangs. She will steal things off the kitchen table when we are out and leave them on the spare bed. We will know she has done this if she doesn’t come running, toy zebra in her mouth, to greet us on our return. I love Frieda the most.
I love Linus the most. He is Frieda’s black brother and he is the best boy dog ever. He is round where Frieda is skinny. He is clumsy where she is agile. He bounds in slow motion. Linus is the friendliest, happiest dog when he is well. Sometimes he doesn’t feel too good, because he has IBD and is allergic to most protein and he has to be on a special diet. Sometimes he eats cat poo which makes him feel really terrible. Linus lies with his back feet posed back and out on the kitchen floor. Linus has the longest hair growing from his Hobbit feet. He will not even acknowledge me, or the ball, when I throw it. Linus loves jumping on the bed and sleeping with me in the morning when I lie in a drink coffee. He lies on his back with his whole tummy exposed.
Frieda and Linus are my perfect furry companions, the dogs of my heart and soul, and the gentle daemons of my spirit.
Both Big Friendly and I have been under the weather, with a looming lurgy that hasn’t fully realised but has been simmering; not bad enough to take us to bed, but horrible enough to make the daily grind more grindy.
Jasmine, the old Florence Purringale of the house has kicked into action, following us around, sleeping hard up against us and purring her head off. Chassie has been joining me in the bathroom, rubbing his head on my feet while I sit on the toilet (very disconcerting but well meaning), and the dogs Frieda and Linus are a tag team of love and devotion. It is only Jonesie, the part time cat, who has not picked up on our needs, and continues with his irrational demands to be let in and out again whenever he screamingly calls for it.
Linus offers soft love, of the lolling about sort, while Frieda follows me from bed, to table to couch. She is a deep and close snuggler. Chassie looks for Big Friendly and attaches to his legs when he sits down on the couch. Often, neither of us can move because we are being pinned down by an animal who would be terribly disturbed if we did. The spin-off of being looked after by cats and dogs is that they huddle closer to each other too, which is seriously good for my heart.