Losing Jemima

June 1998

It is difficult to explain 1998 without explaining 1993. In October 1993 my Grandma died. It happens to almost everyone of course but I had grown up living with my Grandparents so it was more akin to losing my mother. This meant that my Grandad, who had a stroke in 1991 and could barely walk, was left on his own and this of course led to my returning to my home town of Peterborough every weekend. It cannot be underestimated what this did for my social life. Over the period of the next four and a half years the friends I had in Peterborough dwindled and disappeared and any chance I had of making new friends in London were suffocated by never having the opportunity to socialize at weekends. During the summer of 1997 I had also relied on handouts from my deteriorating Grandad to help pay for food. He would pay for my petrol to come back and forth at weekends plus a little extra that I would use for basic supplies. In January 1998 I saw him for the last time. During spring and early summer I made all kinds of excuses not to travel back to Peterborough. In reality I couldn’t stand it anymore – I had watched him descend into the depths of despair and in some cases what seemed to me to be depravity. The whole situation of course filled me with guilt for not going to see him but I was also angry at how I, who lived 100 miles or so away, spent more time visiting and doing things for him than his two sons who both lived less than a mile away. After four and a half years it was their turn to contribute – they didn’t like it – but such is the measure of desperation of an overly proud and stubborn old man that he turns to his sons when his favourite grandson stays away. It really should have been the other way round. He died in July 1998 on a Sunday after, the rumour is, a Saturday night of whisky and pills. The doctor had visited him on the Friday and told him he was being taken into care on the following Monday which he always said he would never allow to happen. He got his wish of being ‘dead and out of the bloody rotten road’ and seemingly by his own hand as he had threatened a hundred times before. It was a relief. He was not the same person that I was raised by but rather a broken shell of a man destroyed by the grief of losing his wife almost five years before. Upsetting though it was he had made me promise to him when I was 6 years old that I would not ‘cry when he was gone’ – I never did and never have.

Rewinding back to June I had on occasion spoke to Christine and discovered that she rode horses. I would visit the lady who sat opposite Christine every day or so as I sought to make contact as much as I could and as Christines desk buddy owned horses, and I had more than a passing interest having had riding lessons for a couple of years, it soon became my ‘in’. Casual conversations became email trails and we seemed to hit it off. Respective girlfriends and boyfriend were still in the way though but during one week in June we somehow agreed to meet up over the coming weekend. We spent a long day together walking in the New Forest and had an enjoyable time. Jemima strangely enough did not feature as I was still a little apprehensive at the prospect of Christine failing the sniff test. I need not have worried so much.

The following Tuesday Christine came over and met Jemima for the first time. I came through the front door greeted as usual by my crazy black furry girl but I ushered my way inside more quickly than usual. Jemima suddenly saw a new person in the doorway and went berserk – and so did Christine. I felt the relief drain through me as I realized that here was a real dog person that knew all the moves required to entertain an excitable dog such as Jemima. I even started to wonder who was enjoying it more. After watching and enjoying the moment for a couple of minutes I left them to it while I sorted out drinks in the kitchen.

Within a few days Christine and I dropped all other incumbents and ‘became an item’. I confessed my numerical advantage in suitors and promised she would be the only one who would receive my affections. That is other than Jemima who was always to be number one.

Spring 1998

Soon after the first time I ‘noticed’ Christine I found out through a few discreet enquiries that she already had a boyfriend and one of longstanding service at that. I also found out that he was 15 years or so older than her. I sensed it would only be a matter of time before the relationship would end, since she was still only 22, as I imagined she would outgrow him sooner or later. I decided to bide my time. In the meantime though I carried on as before – not really looking around and I was happy in that. It was then that I met another addition to the company who caught my eye.

Up until now I have used everyones real names but in this instance I will use the pseudonym that Alan gave to a particular girl – girlfriend 56. I suppose Alan gave her that nickname as I had been meeting all kinds of girls and bringing them home. It had for the most part been on a friendship basis that I was acquainted with these girls but to an outsider looking in I guess it would look a little like I was playing the field. Truth is I get on better with women and found friendship easier to come by with the fairer sex. Back to the explanation though – the real reason I am using the girlfriend 56 pseudonym is that I was, and still am, ashamed of what I did to her. Not because that anything I did was terribly bad beyond the usual men treat women badly generalisation. No the reason is that she was innocent in every sense of the word and did not stand a chance because of my inability to overcome my failings and show her respect.

Girlfriend 56 went to church every week and was a little inexperienced in relationships which relatively speaking was diametrically opposed to myself. I think she was also very attached to me and tried to fit in with the way she thought I might like things to be. This meant that I had, and knew that I had, the upper hand in how the relationship progressed and on occasion I used this to my advantage. As was usual my yardstick of whether she measured up, namely how she was with Jemima, came into play. Miss 56 didn’t pass the test. She was scared of dogs and obviously uncomfortable with Jemima. This was difficult because Jemima being the over friendly, although gentle, creature that she was would try to play with her but get nothing much back. In fact on one occasion when girlfriend 56 didn’t think I was looking or could hear she actually told Jemima quietly to “please go away”. That was all I could take of the situation really and I should have ended the relationship, but I didn’t and couldn’t as I didn’t know how, and did not want to hurt her feelings.

So I carried on seeing Miss 56 but at the same time started getting acquainted with other girls. In fact I did more than that – I reestablished contact with Anne Marie and girl number 3 from when I found myself in the three way debacle when I was with Catherine. I also had a brief fling with a girl I had known from college who had called me up. So there I was for a matter of a few weeks with more female attention than I had ever had. Needless to say the restaurant bill for that month was rather large – £550 plus. Which probably worked out at around £150 per girl in the end. Add in the times that the bill was split or when I didn’t pay you can hazard a guess that I ate out perhaps 12 to 16 times that month. What I enjoyed with that whole experience however is while there was undoubtedly sex involved it was not my driving force. I would hazard a guess though that all girls concerned would not approve and being older and wiser for it I would agree. Such is the measure of youth though and you cannot legislate against it. In any case I would have, and eventually did, drop all of them for the chance to be with Christine.

January 1998

The events of 1997 had left me bare chested in all manners of the phrase. But there was hope. A now one year old Black Labrador had seen to that singlehandedly. The attention that a young dog required gave me focus and the blind devotion that a Dog gives their master filled my need for love many times over. Catherine was flushed out of my system more quickly than previous girls and replaced with a sense of belonging that I had not had for years. Over the difficult months that had now passed I gradually rediscovered myself once again and felt at ease in my own skin. I became very aware that this was primarily due to Jemima and I grew very attached to her very quickly. There was never a need to argue or to question or to understand – we just coexisted with no hangups or misunderstanding. It was bliss! Because Jemima was there I didn’t feel the absolute need to be in a relationship. I felt more emotionally free than I ever had been. There were still drags on my life but the financial freedom and friendship I had obtained by Alan being around and the emotional freedom from having Jemima made me feel like a person perhaps for the first time. It was at this point in my life that the next big story began to take root.

There were a number of new staff in the office and amongst them were three new girls around my ‘target’ age bracket. Amongst them was Christine. The best way to describe the first time I noticed Christine is to tell it how it happened. The company had been bought by the corporate giant that was GE the previous September and we were just beginning to see the effects of being taken over. One day the company was invited to attend a presentation and some kind interactive staff training game where we had to pass a ball between everyone present as quickly as possible. Everyone had to touch the ball once and our target was to do it inside 30 seconds. When the rather large group of people, myself included, were given the go ahead to start organizing ourselves for the task the first person to stand up and raise their voice was Christine.

“Why don’t we start by getting in two lines facing each other?” She addressed everyone present, numbering around fifty people, but was ignored completely in the melée of people itching to stand up and walk around. “Or maybe not…” she added after a few seconds making some kind of resigning gesture and then sat down again. I had noticed though and I remember smiling and thinking to myself “very interesting”. Another ray of hope and one that was completely unexpected.

Autumn 1997

Alan moving in was a positive event on two counts. Firstly the financial pressure was removed and some normality could be gained. Secondly it meant that I could go out in the evenings when he was around at weekends. Jemima would not be left alone in the house and I could get some respite from the situation. After a couple of evenings out, and some initial attempts at finding another girl, I realized that ultimately I would need to find someone who would take Jemima on as part of the ‘package’. It was a scary thought as I suddenly felt perhaps not too dissimilar to a single parent looking for a new partner. How many women out there would see themselves in a long term relationship with a man who already had a dog? Not too confident a start for someone who a year or more earlier epitomized the image of ruthless womaniser. The truth though was that I never was that person – just someone who had never learnt how to say ‘No’ and to be strong enough to stand by the decision.

The search began in the most logical places, those that I frequented regularly, which in my case was the office. I felt like, and probably came across as, desperate. My own preference was always that something felt natural, free and easy anyway so forcing myself into a positive search was unnatural. In the short time that this lasted I looked at every single girl in the office, who were not too numerous, and tried to figure out if I fancied them or not. Then I tried to work out whether I could see myself being with them for a long time. In all cases I found zero matches. This made me very downhearted for a time as I could not see a way out of the impasse. My next move felt like a comedown for me at first. I phoned Ed.

Ed had been a good friend from my old days in Peterborough Youth Theatre. He had joined after the successful showings of Grease and West Side Story that we had put on and was one of the ‘new’ people that had come along as a result of the positive fallout of those productions. He was different from other kids my age and I got along very well with him. He had a similar view of the world as I did although his capacity for procrastination would infuriate me at times. He also had a number of odd habits and insecurities that were both annoying and insufferable so over time I had purposefully stopped seeing him. He did like to go out though and was more in the zone of looking for women than Alan. So I called him up and we made plans to get out and enjoy London. At this point I had also decided that perhaps looking for ‘the one’ as it’s called seemed a bit pointless. So one Saturday night Ed and I went out for a drink and unbeknown to me he had arranged to meet up with a group of girls through another girl he knew from work. Ed worked at the BBC so I was very interested in these high flying media girl types although when talking to them they seemed normal, if more intelligent than most. The girl that Ed knew from work however was something else. She was an Irish redhead who could talk, was ever so slightly strange, and was completely uninterested in me. Me being me I just forgot the thought and tried to impress myself on another tall girl from the group. Later in the evening we found ourselves in a nightclub at an 80′s night. I really let my hair down as the expression goes. This was my music! After a short while both myself and Ed plus the redhead and another irish girl hit the dance floor and pretty much stayed there. This did it really. My moves must have impressed the redhead as we soon started seeing each other after that night.

Anne Marie was a very cultured and well connected girl in the TV industry and we got on well but it soon became apparent that she was avoiding coming out of London to darkest West Ewell. She knew I had a Dog and I assumed that was the issue although she did not say anything about it. It was paranoia on my part I guess but I set about finding out by driving over one day with Jemima in tow. When I opened the car door Jemima careered out into the street and set about meeting everyone she could see. Everyone except the girl I had brought her to see. The deal was sealed – Anne Marie had no idea about Dogs and perhaps Jemima knew straight up. Things fell apart a short while after that and had nothing to do with the brief meeting with Jemima but more perhaps my intransigence.

The search for a new mummy went on and I explained this to Jemima on numerous occasions. Quite often she would talk back and I took this to mean agreement and compliance with what I needed to do and that it meant that if I found a potential candidate I may not be back till the next morning. This had only happened a couple of times with Anne Marie but I assumed it would be the case on numerous occasions in the future. Strangely enough it only happened again one time until after I met Christine.

August 1997

As the summer of 1997 wore on it became pretty clear that I was not going to survive financially. I had already contacted Catherine and handed back the Sofa’s we had bought together and that I had resolved to keep and pay her for but every month saw things becoming more difficult. Everything seemed to stack up against me but I somehow managed to stay afloat by using credit cards and bouncing payments from one card to the other. It was a losing battle however and I soon found myself cutting back on everything but still managing to overspend. It’s easy to convince yourself when things aren’t going so well that you deserve the treats and pick me ups that you buy. Despite all the difficulties however the summer I was having with Jemima was good. She was getting out for plenty of walks, despite the long days waiting for me to come home, and she seemed to be always happy and uncomplaining. It was Jemimas seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy and happy vibes that kept me relatively optimistic looking at the big picture. In the short term however something had to give.

The break through eventually came during August. I had been meeting up with my old college friend Alan during the summer at various points and on one occasion he mentioned that he was looking to potentially move out from where he was living. It escapes me whom mentioned it to whom first but the suggestion was made that Alan could move into the house. It would be a lot more convenient for his job and would also do me a favour. Alan sorted everything out with his existing accommodation and a date was set. He would move in during September! We discussed how much he would pay in a very short conversation and agreed how much he would give me each month. Suddenly all the dark clouds that were looming seemed to vanish and everything would be ok after all. My only worry was how Alan would take to living with a Dog in the house. Looking back I need not have worried as all turned out just fine and although one might describe Alan as a cat person he and Jemima got along just fine. He wouldn’t get involved in the walking of course but him being around took the pressure off me a little as Jemima would have company if I needed to go anywhere that I couldn’t take her.

March 1997

Jemimas first visit to the beach was not Studland Bay. Rather less glamourously it was a shabby affair somewhere near Portsmouth. I was visiting an old college friend and was not at the stage where I spent my free time anywhere without the Dog. There was enough guilt involved with leaving her to goto work and leaving her at weekends was not on the agenda. So to Portsmouth Jemima and I went. I had intended to make her first visit to a beach somewhere ‘perfect’ but it was not to be. The beach was littered with all kinds of flotsam, litter and sharp stones and the water was a murky brown filled with loose black seaweed. It was calm though but the atmosphere was that kind of murky sunny affair that is neither cloudy nor clear. Still Jemima enjoyed herself and ‘performed’ as I had hoped according to my ideal – the usual tail between the legs looping and crashing through the water, spinning around and doing it again. There’s a lesson in life there perhaps. Still I’d rather not have been at that particular beach on that particular day for although the company was pleasant enough I felt that I was being hit on in a very subtle way. Yes the company was female but I wasn’t interested. The only girl I had eyes for had four legs and was covered in hair!

July 1997

It seems obvious to me that Dogs should hate going to the Vet. Whenever they go they either have to get injections, have some kind of invasive check up or there is something wrong. With Jemima perhaps I ought to have taken her to the Vet regarding her love of the Vets. It was odd to be dragged into a Vets surgery by the Dog, for the Dog to drag me into an examination room when it was our turn. Things were such that I even forgot my own dislike of the places just to ‘see what she would do next’. To Jemima everybody who worked at the Vets was treated like a long lost friend and everybody who came in was someone to be greeted enthusiastically. Even the other animals that were encountered were treated with the same enthusiastic welcome.

Prior to Jemima my only experience of a Vet was when I was perhaps 10 years old taking my Dog Sam to be looked at with my Grandma. Sam had, unbeknown to us, caught distemper. It was late evening and we had the last appointment of the day. While the Vet explained what was wrong with my Dog I remember realising that I was being told that, without saying the actual words, Sam was going to die and would soon start to suffer. I remember trying to hold back the emotion but after a very short time I began to cry with a start. My poor boy was taken from me and I really had no idea why as he still seemed perfectly healthy at that point. I also remember still, while sitting in my Grandads car with my Grandma explaining what had happened, looking up to see said Vet locking up his surgery with a cardboard box. As the Vet wrestled with the key in one hand and the box in the other Sam thrust his head out of the box to see what was going on. It was a moment that scarred me for life – I suddenly felt the fear somehow from the expression on Sams face and the feeling of that moment has never left me to this day. I will never know what happened to him and cannot know if he was treated with dignity and respect in his final hours – seeing the way he was taken away does not give me confidence that this was the case. I hope for his sake that his end was a peaceful one.

1997-1999

I’m not even sure that Redhouse Woods are called Redhouse Woods. One thing I am sure of is how much fun Jemima and I had walking there over a period of a couple of years. The love affair began in 1997 as one of those moments in random exploration. I had seen the imposing tree covered hills many times when driving the short distance to work from Beare Green to Dorking every morning during the period of December 1995 to January 1997. I had not thought to get any closer however until after Catherine had gone when new experiences and discovery were the perfect antidote to the dark curtain that seemed to cover everything in my outwards facing ‘official’ life. Once I had ‘discovered’ Redhouse Woods I would look forward to getting up there at weekends with Jemima to try different routes and loops and all kinds of short cuts up and down hills, through trees and along muddy tracks. As summer approached and the days grew longer I would be on the edge of my seat at work waiting for five o’clock to come around to get home as fast as I could, pick up Jemima, and head back the way I had just came.

It seemed nonsensical really to walk Jemima a mile or so from where I worked when I had a thirty minute drive to get home and a large green area to walk the Dog just a hundred yards around the corner. Still I did it many times anyway and Redhouse Woods became a retreat for me. I would nearly always park in the same place – drive from Dorking towards Coldharbour along Coldharbour Lane and after you go through the deep dark road that is cut into the forest you stop at the first set back parking area on the left. These days there is a gate but previously there was not. In the early days once we got out of the car we started out mostly turning right and heading up the hill and following the main open track. As you walk the track there are many different junctions and deviating routes that take you in many different directions so the trick was always to find a loop that took you back to the car. Over time I would go off track at various points – Jemima and I would on many occasions run up and down hillsides through the trees together. Often I would step out to the side and hide to see how long it would take for her to find me. Other times I would find sticks and throw them for her in that timeless game of fetch only Jemima would invariably play the ‘chase me’ game and tried hard to not let me have the stick back. I found all kinds of ways to trick Jemima into running the wrong way when I threw a stick or to drop a stick that she had almost brought back. On one occasion when she was overly energetic I stood at the top of a steep slope and threw a stick to the bottom. Jemima plunged down the slope, retrieved the stick, and came back. I then threw the stick back down to the bottom and again she threw herself down the slope and retrieved the stick. I did this perhaps twenty times and it didn’t tire her out. It seemed like she could never tire of anything especially stick fetching. Sticks come in all shapes and sizes of course but in the formative years of a Dogs stick fetching career they don’t always choose the best sticks to throw or carry. One particular ‘stick’ was about 12 feet long and had all manner of branches and twigs sticking out of it and as we ran down the side of the hill I only just managed to notice the fallen branch she was carrying before she took me out from behind. I jumped in the air to avoid being tripped up and she went past at speed only to be slowed by hitting various trees on each end of the branch. After three or four impacts with trees she learned to steer and navigate her branch by moving her head to the side. It was another important skill that she kept for life.

Alongside the many hours of walking through Redhouse Woods much time was also spent at the various viewing points that could be found by venturing off track. One open area off the side of one of the main tracks offered a far reaching view across the valley looking out towards Gatwick Airport. With a little perseverance and a keen eye one could see planes both coming into land and taking off. I would gaze into the distance to try to pinpoint the exact moment of a takeoff and quite often would watch the plane ascend, turn in my direction and fly overhead. My favourite spot though could be found again off to the side of the main track at what I would describe as the top corner of the hill. The trees here were silver birch, not like the pines that were prevalent everywhere else, and the place always felt very peaceful to me. It was here that I would chase Jemima around and kick up ‘cornflakes’ in her face. For some reason kicking up piles of dried leaves would send Jemima into a frenzy and she would spin round, sometimes on the spot, chasing an imaginary rabbit. Then in mid dash she would suddenly halt, offer me a quizzical glance, before setting off again.

All walks come to an end one way or another. Only Jemima, as she began to go through that phase of a young Dogs life where they begin to try to assert their own authority on the pack, would often not accept that the walk had ended. The first evening it happened I was caught completely unaware. She refused to get into the car, refused to be caught, and refused any attempt to get within touching distance. It took me an hour and a half to catch her. I was livid! For the first ten minutes or so I thought it was funny to chase the Dog and I made something of a game out of it. After that I began to get a little tetchy. In the end I had to approach her inch by inch until I could grab her before she could move. The next day I was a little more prepared and had Jemima on a lead perhaps a hundred yards before we reached the car. The time after that was worse though – she wised up to my trick of getting her on a lead and the insubordination started as soon as the lead came out. That evening it took me two and a half hours to get her back into the car and that was after an hours walk. In the end I had to drive off and I left her standing there. I swore as I drove down the road the wrong way towards Coldharbour and I got to the next car parking area, turned round, and headed back. Jemima was still standing around the same spot so I drove straight past. Of course a little way down the road I turned about and went back to her and it took me perhaps another 5 minutes to get her into the car. It didn’t put me off Redhouse Woods in the long run but for a month or so at least I went there sporadically. While the walks were fun it was ok to drive the distance but when every walk required a devious plan to get the Dog back into the car it became a chore. She didn’t seem to do the refusal anywhere else so Epsom Downs became the main walk for a while. It was also less costly for petrol – money was getting very tight.

June 1997

I suppose many of the walks Jemima and I took together in the summer of 1997 could be categorised as either escape, duty or reminiscence. The escape was always from the stress of being in a losing financial situation, the duty was to Jemima and the need to exercise an effervescent young dog who was often cooped up in a two bedroom house and the reminiscence was of visiting past haunts that often meant feeling close to the pain of memories. The walk at Studland Bay was all of these. The location had previously been that of a riding holiday with Catherine as well as a weekend with her family. It is a particularly pleasant part of the world and I enjoyed being there anyway so to drive there even just for a few hours felt entirely natural. Plus I wanted to share it with Jemima.

We arrived and parked in the centre of Studland and we started to make our way towards the small length of beach below Old Harry Rock. There is a particular field that one can walk through where at the end there is a path that takes you down to the beach. As was my way when I reached open ground where there was no fear of Jemima running onto roads I let her off the lead. Normally she would charge off, and today was no different, in different directions and explore the area. This time though she set off in a straight line directly towards the path down to the beach. One would think that she could have no possible way of knowing what was at the bottom of the path but thinking about it, Jemima being a Dog, she could probably smell the sea. I had so desperately wanted to be there when she hit the beach that I tore off after her as fast as I could go but to no use. I got down to the beach and she was already in the water and turned around to me as if to say “what took you so long?!” As was her way in the New Forest when she first discovered water she dashed up and down the beach in and out of the surf. It can perhaps explain why the scene from Marley & Me where John Grogan lets Marley off the lead on the beach touches me every time I see it. Although this was an English beach, there was no ubiquitous end to the moment with the Dog messing the water, and the ‘moment’ went on for 20 minutes or more. We strolled up and down the beach with the place to ourselves, due to the cloud and the rain, and it was perfect. I took photo’s and Jemima seemingly posed or was perhaps curious about what I might actually be doing.

After we had enough we set off back towards the village but I decided to take a left turn and before we knew it we were climbing up through fields towards the main path on Old Harry Rock. Jemima was in her element – she seemed to sense the adventure and cantered off careering this way and that through the long grass looking for any kind of adventure. Her tail was held high and the ever present ‘smile’ was there for all the see. We climbed for a while and then eventually came to the path upon the flat at the top – a place where a year earlier I had ridden with Catherine up to the turning point at the corner of Old Harry Rock – the corner where you turn right towards Swanage. A little way before the right turn I had ventured towards the edge of the cliff, which is perhaps 200 feet high or more, to look over the edge. I was a little disturbed when I glanced over to my left and saw Jemima careering towards me to have a look at whatever it was that I had found. For a split second I thought it was over – there was no way she could stop. My heart leapt into my mouth and she came to the edge in too much of a hurry. Stop she did though. I will never know if she knew there was a sheer drop or not but she certainly gave me a fright. She looked down at the sea and rocks far below and then looked up at me briefly before heading off in the other direction. I breathed a sigh of relief and thought perhaps I will walk along the other side of the path from now on!

The walk carried on and we came over the crest of the ‘hill’ to see Swanage laid out before us. I took a slight detour down the slope and was as amazed as Jemima to find Sheep stuttering around on some rather precarious inclines although I should imagine they were used to it. I took the slope adventure as far as I could dare before turning right and heading along the top of the hills with Swanage to our right. A little way along after going through a gate we came across a small herd of Cows. As with the Sheep Jemima took only a small passing interest at the Cows – well initially anyway – after about 30 seconds she stopped for a mutual nose to nose sniffing moment with a curious Cow. When their noses touched Jemima almost did a flip and set off in wide looping circles with her tail between her legs. It was another of those ‘child’s’ moments of discovery that brings a smile and meaning to a parents life.

The remainder of the walk was as uneventful and peaceful as a walk can be before the inevitable return to the world. Five hours after we set out we arrived back at the car and set off for home.