Posts Tagged ‘Bentley’

Maria Callas and walking with Bentley.

April 25, 2022

There is something out of this world listening to Maria Callas singing. The documentary about her life that I watched was sublime and to hear her sing, tears of joy.

In the many interviews shown on this documentary she admits that it was her bullying mother that forced her into the world of music right from her early years. She said that perhaps her life would have been happier having had children and a conventional life. When she became aware of her singing capturing rapturous audiences she felt she had to give her voice over to the world. And she did unstintingly. Her love to Onassis was about a gift to a soulless rogue. She died relatively young but at least in Paris.

As for walking Bentley. He is inside a lot so when I take him out I feel he should be allowed to behave what his nature intended him to express. That involves a lot of investigating smells left behind by other canines. I think it is cruel to train dogs to ignore what comes natural except of course when trained for blind or guiding purposes.

I think it fair exchange to allow Bentley to be a dog when I walk him and I take full responsibility for any misadventure I might suffer as a consequence of that tolerance.

He generally is slowly coming to realise he shouldn’t dart in and out in front of my and he does look at me with some regret when he gives in to his nature overcoming him.

I mean, don’t men behave erratic at times?


Iceberg Rose and Forget me Nots

October 22, 2021

While walking has offered escape from endless lockdowns, gardening or maintaining a garden is also high on the list of surviving life during the unprecedented rules of ‘stay home and avoid others’. I have done both although on hindsight, walking has been used the most. With walking there is the chance of meeting other lockdowners also determined to try and get a glance or word or so from other humans still alive. If one combined walking and having a dog on a lead one is almost certain to come across another survival driven human.

Of course, gardening is also very good in avoiding spiritual dehydration during a period when walking isn’t so possible or in my case, I had a fall and thought to take it easy for a few days. I had an Rontgen photo taken of both left leg and right arm just to make sure. No damage not even a hairline crack. I vaguely remember having taken a bone density test some years ago and all was honkey dory.

So, back to gardening and despite having tried for many decades, a rose has yet to appear on all those roses we planted. No matter how we cared, fertilized or prayed for rose, none ever were produced. However, last year I saw a lovely Iceberg rose at the local nursery and bought and planted it forthright, willing to beat providence and grow roses. I mean, which old man or woman should be denied to grow roses at their final fling at life, double vaccinated and all!

So this year, and the second spring I looked at my Iceberg almost on a daily basis. It was growing very nicely and I even now am having high expectations. However, looking at gardens on my walk with Bentley, I noticed many roses profusely flowering. Still, I lived in optimistic fervor, especially after having given it a dose of Potash. Potash is the holy grail for Iceberg Rose.

Lo and behold this morning I discovered two very small white Iceberg flowers. Can you see them?

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The magic Iceberg Rose.

The next bit of horticultural effort was dealing with an overabundance of Forget Me Nots. I never realized that when they seed they get into everything especially into dog’s coats. Bentley was covered in them and it took hours of brushing to get rid of them. I pulled all of the forget me Nots out and bagged them into 4 large black plastic rubbish bags, what a job! It’s funny how I was always attracted to a flower that calls itself ‘Forget me Not’. I mean, who can resist a name like that? Yet, so treacherous as it grows so fast and turns into weeds. The serenity of my garden is now lovely to behold and I often just sit and look at it from inside. I don’t need TV or even books. I love looking at this small peace of green heaven with 4 birch trees, 3 maples, two Manchurian pear and 1 American Redwood which I have been told grows to such size it will lift our whole community of 10 dwellings up and down by its roots alone.  


Forget me Nots

A spectacular Fall,

October 5, 2021

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It has often be stated by doctors that hospitalizations of the elderly are for a large part due to falling. Well, this morning I seemed to have at a minimum reached the age of falling down. So far I never considered to even see myself as aged. True, I have often walked past an institution that is as British/Australian as an outdoor windblown dunny in the back-lane. And it is called The Senior Citizen’s Association or sometimes Club. It is so much senior that I always quickly walk past. The curtains are drawn solid and they are so grimly uninviting that one really would have reached the age of having lost the will to go on. I sometimes got a glean to the inside when someone dares to open a door and one sees little vases of plastic flowers akimbo laminex tables with splayed legs, so aged and forlorn looking that they are begging to be put out of their misery and strangled on the spot.

This morning was like most mornings. My newly acquired dog Bentley let it be known it was walk time after first tapping me on the bed to tell me to get up and not linger. I got dressed had the obligatory banana and cup of tea with milk and two sugars. He gets restless and this reaches its peak when I put my scarf, coat and hat on. When I get his lead he neatly sits down and allows me to slide it over his head but then bolts to the door, eager beaver that he is. We both bolt outside and at first will pull for hell and leather. He is besides himself and such a joy to behold. We strode out of our complex and started our walk which with him is at first the sniffing of both left and right nature grass strips of the latest dogs previous passing. Bentley has a kind of way that he lingers which makes me think he reads the latest happenings, a newspaper or editorial, left against trees, poles and grasses. He then replies and articulate that by lifting either left leg or right, sometimes both but not simultaneously. That would be impossible.

Anyway, is was after about a hundred meters or so of endless sniffing that some interesting smell or message pulled Bentley across from me while my attention was further ahead and not down to the terra firma at my feet. Bentley’s crossed my legs and his lead tangled my legs. I fell backwards unceremoniously without any further ado. Totally involuntary and without restraint. I haven’t fallen so spectacular since the 5th of Nov 1963 . (I remember it well, I was in Tirolerland, Austria, when skiing and meeting my future wife Helvi who wiped my bloodied face)

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I fell, not on snow this time but on an unforgiving concrete pathway. I remember cars coming to a halt but I was furious with Bentley, you rotten dog, who after all that love, treats and patting, tried to bolt. Quick as a flash I put my left leg forward and held it down on his leash. He knew the game was up and came to me, all apologetic and contrite. I managed to get up and held on to the leash and felt alright. No broken bones or bloodied face. A man across the road asked if I was alright which was nice of him. I said that I felt alright and continued my walk.

I am convinced that my time for the Senior Citizen’s club hasn’t arrived yet. We shall see!

The escapist Bently.

August 16, 2021

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At no stage of my life have I so been involved with dogs. We all know that dogs are men’s best friend but I had my doubts with Buddy who really tested my patience. He was a prolific pooper and nothing I did worked, no treats or rewards, kind words or soft patting. He would just insist my place was his toilet. Just to twinge your memory, the photo below is Buddy.  He looks very charming and in a way he was but in my eighties now, I just wasn’t fit enough to follow his trail and clean after him throughout the house, both downstairs and upstairs…and during the night! 


Buddy thinking about where to drop his next poo.

The previous owners came and picked up Buddy and admitted they had the same problem. Still, Buddy greeted his old owners enthusiastically, madly wagging his tail. Curiously, he only moved a few doors up around the corner from a large medical center, now being used as a hub for Covid 19 vaccinations with traffic being directed by two people in Fluro jackets wearing masks and strong boots.

But let’s now talk about my latest dog Bentley. He is a Tibetan-Spaniel terrier with no problems as yet except that he wants to escape all the time. Not much is known about him. He is micro chipped and has a name and number. He was surrendered that day to the Local Shire council dog rescue depot and although recognizable as a dog, his long coat  had lumps of vegetation and burrs and bush stuck to him, it was pitiable. All around his ears, his tail, and  around his body. The coat was matted and beyond a layman’s skill, perhaps a hairdresser or groomer, even then? I decided to take him to the local vet, to get him checked and tidied up.

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The vet thought that Bentley might have been sleeping rough in the bush or underneath railway bridges. His coat had so much dirt stuck to him that it must have been a while since he actually had a caring home. He also came with a warning that he had a habit of escaping and that he could only survive in a secure place, well fenced off and to not underestimate his skill in escaping. ‘He can even climb wire fences’, I was told by the girl who handed me Bentley from the dog pound. I assured her that both my front yard and back garden had secure solid fences over 6ft high.

Little did I know!

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Bentley plotting his next escape.

It might well be that his rough sleeping gave him survival skills usually not found amongst the canines treated and brought up as pets. They are given their food and water unasked or in most cases unearned. I mean, take Buddy, he still had juicy morsels of fillet, salmon (skin on), clean water and nice bedding upstairs next to my bed. And, yet he did poo relentlessly.

Anyway, Bentley might well have been a kind of troubadour or vagabond previously, and honed his skills in avoiding capture, who knows. He is street-wise and knows the world. He did escape the first day, and boy did I chase him. He is also the sweetest and most amusing dog, very clever and so far no toilet inside, except the first day doing a bit of marking here and there including the book case.  Who doesn’t?

I think I have him for good now. Nice name too, Bentley.