Christines aged parents lived in Colyton near Seaton in the north east of Devon. Not Devon proper but that curious outpost that ought to be Wiltshire that is to the east of Exeter. We spent many ‘relaxing’ weekends there where we became, for a day and a half, honorary pensioners. Pensioners are by nature a dying breed and so it was that I felt that a small part of me died with every visit. Continue reading
Tag Archives: Dog
Nonsuch Park
The park of the palace built by Henry VIII that no longer stands was scene to a favourite ‘Jemima moment’ of mine. Christine and I walked there on the odd occasion normally keeping to the open grassy areas but one fine day we took a different route through the park coming across a cafe that we hadn’t known was there. Continue reading
4:35pm January 29th – One Year
It’s hard to fathom a year since the moment Jemima died. Her beautiful, but now slightly cloudy, eyes closed and suffering no more. How can a moment in time cast such a shadow over everything hence? To the extent that a sight, sound or smell can stop me in my tracks as it brings back floods of memories, once happy but now painful, and knowing I will never experience the like of which again?
The day the year came round started in an unusual fashion with an early hours return from an evening out that had ended at a lap dancing club. Daylight came far too early, not that I should have woken, but I was roused by the feeling of another panic attack. Alcohol can help bring on the symptoms so I had been told so I put the event down to that but in the midst of the tight chest and feeling of fear it’s not always a rational thought that wins the argument. With every attack the thought always surfaces from the deep of mind that perhaps this time it’s something more serious. After starting up from the sofa where I had crashed I tried to empty my mind, to relax, and started the deep slow breathing which I’d read that is the one thing you can do that is in your control. Panic attacks are physiological caused by the pyschological and the thoughts that an attack brings illogical so by concentrating on breathing you maintain some control over what is happening. Slowly the attack receded and I fell asleep once more.
I woke around 7am as the sound of children resonated through the house. Physically I mostly felt tired and I had a slight headache but mentally I was aware. Aware of what this day was and what it meant. I had no preconception of how I would react on the day – only a sense of foreboding like the sight of a dank grey cloud over the horizon edging closer. The day progressed as any Saturday did but it felt different until eventually I found myself seated at my desk looking at photos of Jemima in a manner as if staring into space. As a wave of realisation of the cruelty of the passage of time grew I shrunk into my seat head in hands, my eyes leaking as they inevitably did. I became aware of comings and goings behind me but wasn’t able to discern who or what it might be until I heard the kitchen door bolt shut and a key was turned from the other side. I had been locked in and left alone to my ruminations. I cannot tell how long I sat there until the door opened again and lunchtime manoeuvres began and all became well again while I was distracted.
As the hours toiled by I slipped again into silence and then, as two in the afternoon became three, into distraction. The time drew closer and I found myself clock watching, sitting and looking into space, oblivious to noise and conversation, and sometimes looking at the laminated black and white picture of Jemima on the notice board. Three became four and my mood darkened. I replayed the scenes from a year before in my head trying to figure out the sequence of events and the mistakes I had made. Four fifteen. Four twenty. Getting in the car to go to the vet. Jenni saying goodbye. Four twenty five. The decision. Four thirty five. The last breath…
The moment passed. Jemima had now been gone for more than a year. The clock soon hit five and preparation for dinner time began. Distracted again I felt a sense of guilty relief. Relief that the moment had passed but guilty that I had offered no ceremony or dignified marking of the event save sitting and thinking of the loss of my base – I hope Jemima could forgive me that.
Losing Jemima Part One
Hankley Common, it being close to home and often empty, became the walk of choice for Jemima and Jesse on those weekends that Christine deemed to share the task. All four of us would head out in the car taking the 5 minute drive towards Thursley and turning off at what was Truxford Farm. The excitement was always there for the dogs no matter how many times we walked Hankley and it was often difficult to restrain them from leaping out of the car before the door was fully open and you had extracted yourself from the seat. One particular walk became something of a nightmare scenario however. We decided to take a new route around some dense woodland beside a horse trail. It was not a route we had taken before but we had no reason to be fearful as we often tried new paths and tracks. We walked along the wide sandy horse trail and came to another dirt track heading into the wood, wide enough for a car, and we turned right into it. Jesse as usual had charged off in another direction but a quick shout was all it took to catch his attention and for him to come back. Jemima, again as per normal, was a little way behind as she sniffed her way along investigating every smell. We continued up the track on a slight incline and after a short distance we stopped and looked back. Jemima had turned into the track so we assumed she had noticed us. We turned and carried on eventually reaching the other side of the wood. Once again we stopped to check Jemima was tagging along behind. She wasn’t there.
We waited for a minute or so issuing the usual mixture of shouts for her to come. She didn’t come. I shouted louder but with no joy so we turned back down the track in the direction we had just come from eventually reaching the horse trail but with no sign of Jemima. We called some more but to no avail. It wasn’t abnormal to lose sight of Jemima or Jesse but I started to feel uneasy. We walked back up the track calling intermittently but nothing. It had been perhaps twenty minutes since we last saw her which was more unusual. I began to get those irrational premonitions that she was gone, really gone. This in turn initiated a conflict between logic and fear, between “she can’t have gone far” and “she could be anywhere by now”. Christine and I split up to cover more ground and I began to run, stopping every thirty seconds or so to call Jemimas name and to listen and scan the wood or the open valley of Hankley. Christine was doing something similar but I noticed that within a minute or two Christines voice became fainter until I couldn’t hear her calling. This made me think that perhaps the trees were acting to muffle our calls and Jemima could potentially not hear either of us. I carried on running and calling trying to cover as much ground in the vicinity as I could. I eventually half circumnavigated the wood and met Christine coming the other way. We then took off separately again in new directions. It was now around fifty minutes since we had last seen Jemima.
We found her ten minutes later. She was pottering along the track that we had turned into an hour before and she was quite unperturbed despite my distressed greeting. What I could not work out is how neither Christine or I missed her on our search. We had covered the track through the wood from both sides and ran a couple of laps around yet she was found halfway up the track from where we had first turned into it. I felt relief washing over me as we walked back to the car this time not letting Jemima out of my sight.
