OURS IS A MAD HOUSE OURS IS

This month of February started off with a big surprise. Last August I had been told by the orthopeadic surgeon at Helen Joseph government hospital in Johannesburg that I need a right hip replacement. I had been in great pain which prompted the visit to outpatients. However the Surgeon told me that there was a minimum of one year’s waiting list and possibly longer. I was pleasantly surprised on Friday the 1^st to answer the telephone to his secretary, Esther who told me to be at the hospital on Tuesday 5^th for tests with a view to having the operation in March.

The next day I went to an internet café to check my emails and another surprise awaited me. There was a letter in my email from Charlie Kane who had found a copy of July Fever in a second hand book shop, bought it and very kindly wrote to me. A copy of the letter follows and was just the thing to boost my morale before the hospital tests.

“Hi, I recently picked up a copy of your book “July Fever” at a second  
hand book store near where the old New Market Race Course used to be.As 
a an avid racing fan it caught my attention straight away.I would like to congratulate you on an excellent book which I found very difficult to put down when reading it”

At the time I was suffering from severe bronchitis and taking penicillin pills and much more. I was very worried that I would not qualify for the op. My friend Dana offered to come with me and we duly set off. I had underestimated just how much walking I would have to do! The hospital is old and rambling and the list that Esther gave me of the various departments that I had to visit was long. We traipsed from one end of the hospital to the other. By the time we were finished I was exhausted! Fortunately my fears were unfounded and I even passed the lung function test!

The following day I was stiff and sore and was reminded of when I began to ride work at Beverly Racing Stables that required me to shorten my stirrups and perch over the horses’ withers like a jockey. TJ’s father, a superb horseman put me up on a large solid liver chestnut called Quatre Bra. He was an absolute gentleman with a light mouth and enabled Peter Kannemeyer, a top heavy weight jockey at the time, to teach me how to balance as we rode alongside one another down the sand track on Muizenberg beach. Peter would hit my back with his stick urging me to get down lower and lower. Together Quatre Bra and Peter turned me into a top work rider but those first weeks were hell from aching muscles unaccustomed to the strain.

In the end I was riding such horses as Inverthorn who had won the Queens Plate. When I visited Newmarket there was a statue of his sire Hyperion. There was no doubt that Inverthorn was a dead ringer as they say in racing terms for his sire. I was privileged to ride the three top sprinters of the stable namely Rumba Rage by Drum Beat whose regular work rider I was, Eastertide by Royal Pardon and little Benzol who was sired by Silver Tor who was not in the stud book!

I can’t remember the whole story but I know that Gary Player was always threatening Theo de Klerk who owned Beverly Stablers to take on Benzol with his quarter horses who are incredibly fast over two furlongs. The match never happened but Benzol could easily get five furlongs and pulled my arms out on the sand track. He had no mouth to mention of.

Back to the present. I was sitting quietly nursing my aching back and hip here in Jozie when my gentleman friend entered with a quick knock. I offered him a glass of red wine and he settled beside me on the couch with my constant companion Jack, my dachshund, on the other side. My friend’s gentle ministrations relaxed me and we chatted away.

The door flew open and in came the human dynamo that is Dana! She is, as my mother used to say, no more than two bricks and a tickey high! A tickey was a small silver coin in the South Africa of yesteryear. Dana had offered to stay for a few days until I felt better and her elderly little dog Crystal made Jack’s acquaintance.

Feisty and quick, Dana brings to mind a pocket battleship! The radiographer at the hospital just shook her head as Dana exploded when they discovered some blood on one of the test results! The bad tempered young blood technician must have spilled some when taking my blood!

The room was immediately charged with electricity at Dana’s entry in double time with laughter all round as she described her morning. She walks and walks at a good pace around the shopping area selling everything from chocolates to biscuits to home baked Lebanese pies, you name it and is a colourful addition to the community. Garrulous to a fault she has a heart of gold.

I must tell you how I met her. I was standing in the queue in Pick ‘n Pay a supermarket chain store, waiting to draw my government pension when this little woman behind me began to chat. Later she told me of a place where pensioners were given free coffee and a bun. She talked so rapidly that I could not catch the details properly. Impatient, she told me she would take me there the following day. It turned out that it was the local Gold Rush casino where pensioners were given a voucher to play the machines once a week together with coffee and a bun.

Now I have been known to back a horse but these machines were a mystery to me. Dana taught me how to get the best out of the Golden Goddess and others and I came away with a membership card and a good few rands! From then on each Wednesday we went with friend Irene joining the fray! Dana of course did not stop there, she became a guide through the inner city and further afield in Jozie (Johannesburg)

Back to my sitting room. More friends wandered in to find out how the tests had gone until the room looked like Grand Central station. Finally friends drifted off and Dana and I sat down to fish and chips. A fundi on this dish that she buys from the local café’s she announced that mine passed muster!

Off to bed early I woke in the middle of the night and thought about the chicken pies I had decided to make for the freezer the next day so that I could concentrate on my writing and not bother about cooking.

I went to the kitchen and opened the freezer to retrieve the chicken I would need for Jamie Oliver’s chicken pie. The chicken is cooked in milk with celery and carrots and thyme. Dana’s door opened and there she was, laughing. “What are you doing?” I enlightened her and she peeled with laughter. “I couldn’t sleep either and I have been defoliating my face!” The two of us stood at the freezer, me stark naked except for panties, Dana in a little girl short pink nightie laughing our heads off!

Ours is a mad house ours is as my mother used to say!

OF A ROSE, COURAGE AND JACK

I fell last week. I am waiting for a new hip from the government hospital but the waiting list is one year. I have nine months to go. Occasionally my right leg does not listen to my brain and fails to lift. So I fell on my boob of all things! Very painful, with the pain going right through to my back.

In this retirement village that I live in news travels fast. I was in bed nursing the pain when there was a knock on my window. Enter Eleanor with an ultra sound machine and a rose. “Mary sent this.”

Now Mary has had some sort of throat trauma and cannot speak. Eleanor spends a lot of time with her and Mary communicates on a Tablet. Mary also has a digestive problem and has to feed herself each day with a syringe. Meet Mary on any of the myriad paths in this complex and she always walks with purpose, always smiles. Bends down to pat Jack. Mary lives each day of her life. Unbelievable courage.

I have the rose in a glass next to my bed. I asked Eleanor to please tell Mary just how much I appreciate her gift.

Courage is everywhere in this complex where more women that men live. I never cease to marvel at how these women, after lives that encompassed much pain as well as joy continue to live each day as it comes, many of them giving time to charity. This year we had a craft exhibition and the variety and quality of the work was outstanding! That is not to say that the men don’t have those qualities, it is just that in the part that I live in there are many more women living.

My other precious gift some three years ago is Jack. I was earning extra money doing pet sitting and was at a local veterinary practice handing out printed notices of my services.  The receptionist greeted me having read the note. “You have come at just the right time!” It appeared that a young couple with a toddler had bought a Dachshund puppy without checking whether they were allowed to keep a pet in their flat. They were moving to a proper house soon but in the meantime did not know what to do.

In next to no time a very small puppy was handed to me with his medical card. He had had all the necessary injections. I agreed to keep him for three weeks until the move. I climbed back into my car and settled the little man on my lap. His name I was told was Jack.

Now I had some shopping to do and did not want to leave him alone in the car. As it happened my daughter was staying with me at the time. So I went home, opened the door and handed Susan this little animal. “I am going to do the shopping and will be back soon. Will explain later!”

When I returned Susan told me that Jack had howled his lungs out at my disappearance! In those few minutes of sitting on my lap Jack had decided that I was his person!  As the time came to hand him back I realized that he was so bonded to me that to send him back would be cruel. I consulted the vet who in turn consulted the owner who graciously told me to keep him and he would find another puppy for the family.  Jack had found a home to his satisfaction!

Jack is well known and loved throughout the complex. He likes everyone, loves a few favourites and the staff always greet him. “Howzit Jack?”

One of my neighbours, Murray moved here only a week before her dear husband died. Murray somehow coped by joining the needlework group. She does the most exquisite embroidery. Jack and I often drop in for a chat. However a cat moved in, deciding that Murray had what was needed for any cat’s wellbeing. The cat lies indolently on the back of the sofa while Jack trembles at the end of his leash like some bloodhound on the trail! On the days that the cat is out on his rounds Jack lies exactly where he does! Occasionally he will sit on Murray’s knee surveying the world through the open doors.

Jack has one fault. He hates cats. When he was still a puppy I took him to Mozambique. We stopped overnight in Nelspruit  at Mbombela Backpackers. Here two enormous dogs made a huge fuss over Jack so that he was covered by slobber!

However a large black cat that had the reputation of a Black Mamba snake killer lived there too. The Backpackers overlooked a vlei wetland that had tall elephant grass. Ideal Mamba cover. The black cat would stalk and kill this, the most poisonous and dangerous snake in South Africa. Very, very few people survive a bite.

The cat was on the kitchen counter and Jack gave a puppy bark at it. The cat flew to the ground and proceeded to hit poor Jack with a left and a right just as the line of a song I remember from my youth described! The song lyric ran like this:  “Come on kid! Come on kid, hit him with left and a right!”

Jack also has the run of Heather’s house. Heather had to put her elderly Dachshund, Oliver down and loves Jack to pieces. Jack loves Pat. We cannot pass her house without him scratching for permission to enter. He makes a fuss of her and goes straight to her fridge, standing there in expectation!

One lady here has a severely handicapped son who visits occasionally and drives around in his little automated chair. Jack runs up to him and sits beneath his toes patiently allowing the man to rub him with his toes.

Barbara walks a lot and has offered to walk Jack when my hip gives trouble. Jack can spot her from a long way so I let go of the leash and he gallops up to greet her with much enthusiasm. He is happy to go and walk with her just giving a last look at me to get a double “Okay, go Jack!”

Jack and I had a routine for our walks. Early in the morning we would stroll so that he could read the newspapers on the due wet grass. At eleven we would take a proper walk for exercise. On a Tuesday I would attend art classes and come home in time for the walk. One Tuesday I was late and arrived at twelve. Now I enjoyed listening to a political commentator called Stephen Grootes at that time. So I settled with a glass of wine thinking to take Jack for his walk afterwards.

Jack had been restless with the disruption to his routine and in desperation jumped on to my bed and proceeded to bark angrily at Stephen Grootes’s voice emanating from the radio on my bedside table! I got the message!

Jack can get very angry at me. If he wants a second helping of chicken and rice and I refuse he sits in front of me the picture of indignation with his ears out, glaring, then with funny fierce barks registers his anger! If I tell him to stop he runs around in circles then recommences the performance until I am forced to dish out a little more!

I could go on and on but must be off to give a lift to a friend and thence to my son TJ and his wife Maud and their children Greg and Neve. Jack considers them part of his family and loves to visit! TJ will put this blog on the internet for me. It is useful having an IT son!

 

 

OF A CHANCE ENCOUNTER AND A DACHSHUND CALLED SUSIE

I have a client that I would prefer to call a friend who lives at the same retirement village as I do in Johannesburg. Now Irene has a bit of difficulty walking and needs a stick or her walker. Fortunately I am still very active and can give her a lift to the nearby shopping centre, Cresta Mall.

I am outside the entrance to Cresta waiting for her very near to the entrance so that she does not have far to walk. Jack my dachshund is with me. He enjoys the walk to where my car is parked, the ride; the wait so he can case the joint from the comfort of my lap while I wait for Irene and his ‘walkies’ when we have dropped her.

A strange man came up to my window when he saw Jack. He proceeded to tell me a story of his boyhood and a dachshund called Susie. His father was a very strict man and expected his family to be outdoors and fit. Accordingly they had to hike into the mountains. I don’t know which but I think probably the formidable Drakensberg. The name means Dragon’s mountain. They were walking along a gravel trail.

All of a sudden, because there had probably been a lot of rain,the gravel began to slide. They found firmer ground but Susie was trapped on the sliding gravel. There was nothing they could do. Below was a cliff with a river below. They watched horrified as Susie sussed out the situation and took a gigantic leap away from the moving gravel mini landslide into the void with nothing below but the river.

They walked as quickly as they could on a roundabout route to get to the river expecting never to see Susie again. There she was swimming bravely for the shore to their welcoming arms!

What a lovely story and the moral is that it always pays to chat to people. Now this is Jack’s tale.

I was doing pet sitting and visited a local vet surgery to give out my advertising flyers. The receptionist greeted me enthusiastically. “You have come just at the right moment!” She said that a couple had bought a Dachshund puppy (we in South Africa tend to call them sausage dogs!) and found that they were not allowed to have the puppy in the flats in which they stayed. However they had bought a house in Roodepoort and would be moving in three weeks. Would I please look after the puppy until then?

Now I usually went to the homes of my clients and stayed while the owners were away but a little puppy could be no trouble so I said yes. The owners of the pup arrived very quickly as they lived nearby and they handed me this tiny morsel of a dachshund. They had a young baby and another on the way but they paid up front for half the time and told me he had already had his first vaccinations.

So I took this little mite in my hands, got into my car and put him on my lap. I had some shopping to do and did not want him to be on his own in the car so drove home to my cottage in the retirement centre as my daughter was up from the West coast staying with me. When she opened the door I handed her the little thing – he was so tiny that was all I could call him and told her that I would do the shopping and come back.

When I returned she handed him back to me. “He howled all the time!” I sat down and Jack sat on my knee. From the very first moment he had decided that I was to be his person. Some weeks later he was so attached to me that I told the veterinary secretary and the owners of Jack completely understood, waived the price they had paid for the pup, resolved to find another and I was the owner of one Dachshund pup!

Jack took to life here and became a favourite of not only the hail and hearty elderly but of a couple of severely disabled people. He would allow them to touch him even though one man could only use his foot to do so but the expression on his face told all. The matron of the frail care centre would take Jack up to visit the patients who loved his silky coat.

Every Tuesday I would go to art class nearby. I would return around eleven in the morning and take Jack for his walk. This was his routine. One morning I was late and arrived at twelve. My favourite political program run by Stephen Grootes was on then so I sat at the computer listening to the radio next to my bed. Jack could not understand why his walk was late and jumped up onto the bed and proceeded to bark at Stephen as he brought me up to date politically! I had to abandon the broadcast and take Jack on his walk!

The end of the story is that everyone in this village loves this dear little dog and he and I have traveled miles together and are inseparable. Knowing that he is young and I am at the end of my lease of life my dear daughter in law has promised that he will have a home with their family of two children, Greg and Neve and their great Labradors Jock and Cassie.