With beloved granddaughter and her lovely BF for support, I set out to collect Bessie. I bring carrier with cosy fleecy blanket and toys, towels, paper towels, baby wet-wipes (fragrance-free) water and a tiny bowl. My kids have always said we could survive for a month on the contents of my handbag – now my car contains enough stuff to open a charity shop. But you never know, we might get stuck for hours, or even overnight, on the M4 on the way home and I like to be prepared (or is this just another way of offsetting my anticipatory anxiety neurosis?).
Bessie’s breeder is anxious to leave and is in a fuss and fluster so we are handed papers, contracts, a plastic bucket with a lid containing some food, biscuits, toys, a biro bearing the logo of the breeder (of course), a collar and lead in macho camouflage (intended for ferrets, the only ones small enough for a toy poodle puppy!) and a pet insurance certificate valid for 4 weeks. Bessie is bouncing about while I sign the contract and Emma remarks she looks like a miniscule bear.. she’s right. The carrier I have bought for Bessie meets with the approval of the breeder, we pop Bessie in and set off back to London. I feel a bit like Dustin Hoffman and Ali McGraw looking at each other on the back seat of the bus at the end of The Graduate – what have we done?
I drop off Emma and Ol at a tube station and Bessie and I go home. Unpack the contents of the car and plonk Bessie down in her new home. Alone at last. I need not have worried – we are in love.
But here the arranged marriage simile ends because now I feel like a new mother. When she is awake and playing, I am worried she will hurt herself and when she is asleep, I worry she will never wake up. Of course I never let her know about these anxieties… to her I am the picture of confidence and calm – but one thing is certain, I am genuinely overjoyed to have her in my life. That someone so tiny could bring such a tsunami of delight and joy amazes me.
Night one goes well – interruptions but deep sleep in between. I take my breakfast back to bed and so after giving Bessie hers, she obligingly pees and poos (oh the joy of minute hard smell free turds!) on her puppy pad and we both repair to my large bed. She has a fleecy red blanket on which she plays with her toys and have my porridge and coffee. This is the life – or rather this is my life and Bessie will have to learn to fit in with that.. She likes her food and apparently eats enough. After having labradors I wonder that such tiny amounts of food could keep a flea alive, let alone a puppy, but I slavishly follow the instructions on her feeding chart.
Life with Bessie now begins - HOORAY!
