A letter to my sister : letter 50

Thanks for your letter, I was so glad to hear that my nephew is like me (and I expect that he is delighted too.) I was a bit surprised to hear that you were eating sandwiches at the airport though. When I got home I checked how many scones were left in my freezer.......hmmm, hope you enjoyed them.

Have you had any good laughs lately? The funniest thing I saw recently was a friend's post on Facebook. A lot of churches at Easter like to do feet washing (reminds them that Jesus taught us to be humble, serve others, etc. Has never appealed to me.) Anyway, one church decided to change it slightly, so decided to wash wellington boots instead. Unfortunately they got the sign wrong and advertised to do "Willie Washing"! Made me laugh for ages. There are a number of jokes that could be added to this, but Mum reads these letters, so I'll hold back.

Do you remember listening to Dad play the piano at night while we were trying to go to sleep? - I could always tell what kind of day he'd had by what he chose to play! I love it now when I hear the kids playing the piano, it takes me right back.

Last week we went to cousin Will Todd's music performance. He is quite well known now amongst people who like classical music (he composed the music for the Queen's Jubilee, stuff like that.) Our children seem to have inherited something of the music gene, though it bypassed husband and me.

I have evidence of this in husband's case because we own a cassette recording from his childhood when his talented cousins came to visit. They are all playing various instruments. Husband is playing the drum/biscuit tin. You hear the adults dutifully applause and say how good it was, then one tactfully wonders if "we could hear it again without the drums....?" Will is now an (almost famous) composer, husband is an accountant. Figures.

I didn't really know Will until we were living in the US and he came to visit. We had just bought a clunky old piano for Daughter to have lessons on. Will arrived and started to play and the three children all crowded round him. They asked him to "play something happy/sad/princess music/tree music," and Will dutifully modified his tune to whatever they called out, composing as he played. It was brilliant!

The recital in London was lovely. We started with champagne, so I was slightly worried that Husband might become talkative or (worse) fall asleep during the performance. But he behaved very well. Actually, falling asleep was unlikely because the seats were very hard. Uncomfortable seating is a feature of music concerts I feel. They tend to be held in over-crowded school halls or stuffy concert halls. Perhaps it's done on purpose to stop reluctant fathers from having a sneaky snooze.

I do think that singing at that level must be the MOST scary job ever. They stand there, watched intently, and they have to just open their mouths and blast forth the correct note. Sometimes two of them started at once, no accompanying music, nowhere to hide if one of them was slightly off key. They weren't, it was perfect, but I cannot imagine the pressure that they must be under. Such potential for big time embarrassment.

It must also be difficult to know what facial expression to adopt. The men tended to go for serious expressions, only their eye-brows really changing. The women tended to more 'act' the music, their whole posture reflecting what they were singing. Difficult to not over-do it I would imagine.

Being a conductor must also be a bit weird. Everyone watches your back. I must mention this to Will next time I see him - checking your face in the mirror is fairly unnecessary, much more important to ask someone to check that your collar is straight at the back. And that you have combed the back of your hair.

Not that I am ever likely to be asked to do either. I well remember that sad day when my daughter grew old enough to appreciate music and whispered, "Please don't sing mummy."

Take care,
Love, Anne x

PS. Some eggs hatched. The 'early cracker' actually took two days to hatch. The duckling then helped the next one out of the egg, lots of cheeping and pecking. So cute. They look much bigger than the eggs when they dry off and fluff up a bit.

You can read my sister’s letter at :

 http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk/2016/04/airports-delays-and-flying-letters-to.html

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Will Todd and Ducklings : A letter to my sister

Thanks for your letter, I was so glad to hear that my nephew is like me (and I expect that he is delighted too.) I was a bit surprised to hear that you were eating sandwiches at the airport though. When I got home I checked how many scones were left in my freezer…….hmmm, hope you enjoyed them.

Have you had any good laughs lately? The funniest thing I saw recently was a friend’s post on Facebook. A lot of churches at Easter like to do feet washing (reminds them that Jesus taught us to be humble, serve others, etc. Has never appealed to me.) Anyway, one church decided to change it slightly, so decided to wash wellington boots instead. Unfortunately they got the sign wrong and advertised to do “Willie Washing”! Made me laugh for ages. There are a number of jokes that could be added to this, but Mum reads these letters, so I’ll hold back.

Do you remember listening to Dad play the piano at night while we were trying to go to sleep? – I could always tell what kind of day he’d had by what he chose to play! I love it now when I hear the kids playing the piano, it takes me right back.

Last week we went to cousin Will Todd’s music performance. He is quite well known now amongst people who like classical music (he composed the music for the Queen’s Jubilee, stuff like that.) Our children seem to have inherited something of the music gene, though it bypassed husband and me.

I have evidence of this in husband’s case, because we own a cassette recording from his childhood, when his talented cousins came to visit. They are all playing various instruments. Husband is playing the drum/biscuit tin. You hear the adults dutifully applause and say how good it was, then one tactfully wonders if “we could hear it again without the drums….?” Will is now an (almost famous) composer, husband is an accountant. Figures.

I didn’t really know Will until we were living in the US and he came to visit. We had just bought a clunky old piano for Daughter to have lessons on. Will arrived and started to play and the three children all crowded round him. They asked him to “play something happy/sad/princess music/tree music,” and Will dutifully modified his tune to whatever they called out, composing as he played. It was brilliant!

The recital in London was lovely. We started with champagne, so I was slightly worried that Husband might become talkative or (worse) fall asleep during the performance. But he behaved very well. Actually, falling asleep was unlikely because the seats were very hard. Uncomfortable seating is a feature of music concerts I feel. They tend to be held in over-crowded school halls or stuffy concert halls. Perhaps it’s done on purpose to stop reluctant fathers from having a sneaky snooze.

I do think that singing at that level must be the MOST scary job ever. They stand there, watched intently, and they have to just open their mouths and blast forth the correct note. Sometimes two of them started at once, no accompanying music, nowhere to hide if one of them was slightly off key. They weren’t, it was perfect, but I cannot imagine the pressure that they must be under. Such potential for big time embarrassment.

It must also be difficult to know what facial expression to adopt. The men tended to go for serious expressions, only their eye-brows really changing. The women tended to more ‘act’ the music, their whole posture reflecting what they were singing. Difficult to not over-do it I would imagine.

Being a conductor must also be a bit weird. Everyone watches your back. I must mention this to Will next time I see him – checking your face in the mirror is fairly unnecessary, much more important to ask someone to check that your collar is straight at the back. And that you have combed the back of your hair.

Not that I am ever likely to be asked to do either. I well remember that sad day when my daughter grew old enough to appreciate music and whispered, “Please don’t sing mummy.”

Take care,
Love, Anne x

PS. Some eggs hatched. The ‘early cracker’ actually took two days to hatch. The duckling then helped the next one out of the egg, lots of cheeping and pecking. So cute. They look much bigger than the eggs when they dry off and fluff up a bit.

They are folded up so tightly inside the egg, it takes them a while to straighten up.

They look a bit dead when they first emerge.

Two ducklings fluffed up after an hour and started running around.

 Two chicks hatched the following day.

I think the other eggs had died, so I waited a day and then threw them away.

You can read my sister’s letter at :

 http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk/2016/04/airports-delays-and-flying-letters-to.html

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If you enjoyed this, why not sign up to follow my blog?

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How to Train a Dog with Opinions

How to Train a Dog with Opinions

     This article is aimed at people who, like me, prefer life to be easy and who own a dominant, intelligent dog. It is possible to train a dog to complete obedience (I know, I went to the classes and watched other people) but it takes either a lot of time or a degree of cruelty. If you are someone who always revised for exams when you were at school, (and probably weren’t the middle child in a family) then this article is not for you.

     My qualification for writing this article is that I grew up with a border collie dog and I now own a german shepherd dog and sometimes we manage to fool complete strangers into commenting that she is very obedient. Both the dog and I know that this is not true, but we work together to give a good impression. I also have raised two boys. Apart from the chewing furniture part, I think most of the advice probably applies to parenting boys too.

  

     My main suggestion is that you let the dog train you. She will try to do this any way and it is much easier if you just give in. The trick is to pretend that you are slightly dumb (not difficult in some cases) and only learn the things that you want to learn. Your dog will go to great lengths to teach you. So, when my dog wants to come inside, she barks. I do not want her to bark and therefore I do not respond to this. After a while, the dog will realise that I am too stupid to understand her bark, so will stop. When she is sitting quietly by the door, I open it. She will then train me to repeat this action by sitting next to the door whenever she wants to come in.

     The same principle works with sticks. If my dog tries to train me to throw a stick by bringing it near enough for me to reach and then running away with it, I ignore her. After a while, she realises that I am too stupid to play the ‘chase you round the garden trying to get the stick’ game and so she will sit next to it. When she sits next to the stick and waits, I pick it up and throw it. She then knows that she has trained me to do this and when she wants the stick thrown, she will sit patiently next to it and and wait for me to respond.

     I also did this when going for walks on the lead. When she pulled me, I refused to ‘learn’ that this meant “Go forwards” and I stood still. When she was waiting next to me, I moved forward. She soon realised that I was ‘unable’ to walk while she was pulling and would only move forwards if I was leading.

     Dogs chase things. It is very difficult to stop them. We live on farm land and when I first got my dog, the farmer suggested that I put her in with a ewe. A dog who has been tossed by a ewe does not chase sheep. (I think this is how farmers train their dogs.) I was not prepared to risk broken bones and pain for my puppy, so I decided to not do this. I am now very careful to ensure that she is always on the lead near farm animals. She is pretty good as she has regularly walked with me through fields of animals, but I do not trust her and so keep her on the lead.

     I did however follow the farmer’s advice with our cats. I allowed our puppy to experience first hand what an adult cat is capable of. She acquired a sore nose and the understanding that cats do not like to be chased.

Learning about cats.

Now, when I introduce kittens to her, she is always very submissive and polite (I think she is not entirely sure if they are bigger than her.)

  

     You also need to be aware of the dog’s innate needs. When a dog is young she will go through a teething period, just like a young child. She will need to chew something to stop her jaws aching. If you do not provide something, she will chew your furniture, shoes and bags. Give her something she is allowed to chew on. I find those raw hide chews are good, though you need to keep an eye on them so they don’t choke if they pull bits off.

  

     Puppies have small bladders. They need to be given a place to wee. Do be careful though. I know someone who trained their dog to toilet on newspaper. Then one day, when having breakfast, he went to answer the door. When he returned, his newspaper on the breakfast table had a poop on it! If you train an intelligent dog to do something, they will learn it well. ‘Unlearning’ is pretty difficult.

  

     Big dogs need a fair amount of exercise. If you are not prepared to do this, don’t get a large dog. You do not need to do as much exercise yourself (though it might not be a bad idea in some cases.) You can throw sticks for them to fetch, either up a hill or into water so they have to swim to retrieve it.

     Most intelligent dogs were bred to be working dogs. They therefore need to ‘work’. No, you don’t need to buy a flock of sheep, but you do need to provide some stimulation. Hide things for them to find, take them on long walks, throw sticks in places that are difficult to reach. You can buy a toy that holds dog biscuits which are awkward for them to get out. A bored dog will find their own amusement and that is generally not good.

     Have very few rules and then stick to them rigidly. There are some rooms in my house which my dogs are not allowed in. Ever. Not even a foot. If they start to come in, I say no in a ‘barky’ voice (they are dogs, they understand tone better than words.) I do not shut the doors, I do not put up a fence, they just know that they are not allowed in those rooms. Dogs understand territory. My dog gets very cross when my husband goes into those rooms, as she considers herself far above him in the pecking order, but she will merely sit at the door and swear at him, she knows that she cannot come in.

     The only time she ever broke this rule was after I came home after surgery and stayed in bed for a few days and she sneaked upstairs to see if I was there. I had never realised before that a dog can tiptoe! She looked so guilty when she was spotted that she practically leaped down the stairs.

     Dogs generally have very good hearing. You do not need to shout. I never understand why so many owners yell at their dogs. If you say something and your dog ignores you, it is not because she has not heard! If you say something many times, you are teaching your dog that she does not need to obey you until you have said it at least six times. Say it once. If your dog ignores you, get up and leave. Your dog is much too nosey/bossy to let you leave without her. When she follows you, take her back and tell her again, once. If you call her when you are out and she does not return, then walk away. Do not keep calling. Your dog will not let you get lost, she will come when you start to leave.

     Do not give ‘mixed messages’. If you feed your dog when you are eating, you cannot then expect her to know that she cannot always help herself from your plate/table. If you are happy sharing food, then fine. If not, then only ever feed your dog in her own bowl in a specific place. As I said before, dogs understand territory, we just need to be consistent. If she even puts her nose up to the table top, tell her “No,” not even ‘nearly’ is allowed.

     An intelligent dog will have opinions and there is little we can do to change those. My daughter has a friend who my dog hates. He seems a perfectly nice person but she barks and snarls whenever he visits. I do not know why (but am beginning to be a little suspicious of him myself now.)

     My dog also hates pigeons. She also hates the other dog who appears every evening at the dark glass door (she has never really got the hang of reflections.)

     As for hitting your dog: don’t. It wont achieve anything good. I do sometimes shout abuse at my dog (I am only human and sometimes I get angry.) She just looks at me with her superior “she has lost it” expression. (As I said before, it is a lot like parenting boys. Dogs cannot roll their eyes.) She certainly does not learn anything useful. I do not however hit my dog. I cannot see how inflicting pain will achieve anything. My vet once told me to smack my labrador with a rolled up newspaper, saying it would create a loud noise but not hurt her. I did. It did not change her behaviour. Mind you, she is a labrador. She does not have opinions. I love her dearly but am suspicious that the only thought that ever enters her head is, “Can I eat that?”

     Usually I am very grateful for my german shepherd’s opinions. When we are walking in a secluded place and a man approaches and my dog eyes him suspiciously and growls very quietly so he gives us a lot of space, I am pleased. When travellers come to try and sell me a new driveway and my dog snarls at them so they head back to their van before they have even finished speaking, I am pleased.There are also random people who my dog is always delighted to meet and she dances around them in joy. I am beginning to think they must be very nice people.

     My dog is completely sure of her superiority. So when my mother took her for a walk and could not work out how to attach the harness properly, my dog walked patiently next to her, giving her many looks to convey, “You did this wrong so I will walk very close to you in case it falls off.”

     She gets very angry when wild ducks come to visit our pond and comes to tell me. She is also not too happy when we have bulls in the field next door and spends a lot of time checking they stay on their side of the hedge.

     If you own a dog with opinions, you will have a faithful friend who is brilliant company and very forgiving of all your mistakes (and they will notice every single one.) Sometimes my family complain that I love my dog more than I love them. Let’s just hope I never have to choose between them.........

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Henry Wants to Fight

It was a beautiful summer’s day. Annie was in the aviary, feeding the chickens. They all crowded round her, pecking at the corn and kicking it around. They were very messy eaters! Annie sat on the clean hay and watched them. It was a very happy group.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain on her arm. “Ow!” she said and jumped up. Next to her was Henry, one of the cockerels. He had fluffed up his feathers, stretched out his neck, and was hopping from side to side. He wanted a fight. Annie stood up very quickly and went back to the house.

Every day after that, whenever Henry saw someone, he would try to peck them. It hurt. Annie had a big bruise on her arm. He tried to peck Annie. He tried to peck the boys. He tried to peck Husband. He tried to peck the girl. They were all very cross. When he tried to peck them, they would push him away with their boot. This made Henry worse. He would make himself very tall and dance from side to side.

Once, Husband went to kick him. Henry then did a flying jump, trying to claw Husband. On Henry’s legs were very sharp claws, like knives. If they had touched Husband, they would have cut him. Husband got the garden rake and used it to keep Henry away.

Henry was a problem. If anyone wanted to go into the garden, they had to take the rake with them. They could push Henry away with the rake, so he couldn’t hurt them.

Annie was worried. She asked her friends what she should do. Some friends said she should lock up Henry in a cage, then he couldn’t hurt anyone. Some friends said she should send Henry to a different garden to live. Some friends said she should give Henry a big kick. Some friends said she should eat him.

Annie didn’t like any of these ideas. She decided to look on the internet. She found someone else who had a problem with a cockerel who wanted to fight. She read lots of information. She learnt what to do.

The next time that Annie went into the garden, Henry came running over. He started to do his special fighting dance. Annie folded his wings into his sides and picked him up. She tucked him under her arm. Now Henry knew that Annie was bigger than him. Then, while Annie fed the chickens and changed their water and checked the ducks, she kept Henry tucked under her arm. Now Henry knew that Annie was bigger than him AND that she did not want to fight. When Annie put Henry back on the grass, he ran away.

For a few days, Annie picked up Henry whenever she went into the garden. Henry stopped trying to attack Annie. Annie told her family what she had learned. When Henry did his funny dance, he was saying, “Do you want to fight?” If they pushed him away, he thought they were saying, “Yes, I want a fight.”

Cockerels are bad fighters. They never stop the fight until someone has won. Sometimes this means they kill each other. The family had to teach Henry not to fight them. They had to show him that they were bigger but they did not want to fight.

Then Henry stopped trying to attack them. He went back to pecking the corn with the other chickens and walking around the garden with the cats and the dogs. Everyone was happy again.

When someone wants to hurt us, it is hard to not fight back, it is hard to forgive people. We need to ask God to help us know what to do.

 

Thank you for reading.

You can find more Animal Garden Stories at :

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A Letter to a Sister : Letter 49

Hello, how was your week? Mine was incredibly busy, so there wasn’t much time to recover from our dinner dance from last week. I know that you know some of it, but I will tell you anyway because it will make me feel better.

Monday we decided to try out the new restaurant at Knights Garden Centre. I then came home and wrote a review of it for my blog. I didn’t ‘post’ it because I worry that if I do too many posts in a week, my followers, who receive them by email, will get fed up with me and ‘unfollow’. However, if you want to read it, the link is:

The Potting Shed Coffee Shop and The Walled Garden Restaurant (Knights Garden Centre.)

Tuesday was a preparing day. I was cooking at Lunch Club and usually I shop on Wednesday, but this week I had to go to London, so shopping was pushed to Tuesday. I decided to cook the same gammon, cauliflower cheese, roast spuds and carrots followed by ginger syrup sponge that I cooked last time. It’s easy and I had the quantities already sorted out. Assumed there would be forty people and hoped I bought enough.

In the afternoon I took you to the airport. The taking bit was fine, the finding the car afterwards bit is always something of a challenge. Especially as I had left my glasses in the car (I am still in denial about needing to wear them all the time.) Found car eventually, though I know the boys would have been good about a phone call asking them to drive to the airport to help me find my car. Drove home missing you – you need to seriously review the whole living two days away thing.

Wednesday was London. Husband has some work in Argentina in the summer, so I thought I would join him. He told me I would need a yellow fever vaccination. My local surgery were unable to do it until after I was home again (so much I could write here) so I had to book one at the clinic in London. The train times didn’t work very well, so I drove to the station early, caught a train to London Bridge and then loitered around Elephant and Castle for about an hour. This is not a great place to loiter, unless you want a tattoo or a kebab or a conversation with a drunk man. I settled for the conversation.

Arrived at the clinic on time. Was then informed that actually, you only need the yellow fever jab if you are going up to the waterfalls in the North, which we weren’t. All my other vaccines are up to date, so I came home. I have barely mentioned the wasted time to Husband since, (though actually, it does come quite naturally into the conversation surprisingly often.)

Thursday was baking puddings for Friday. Friday was cooking lunch for forty people, serving, washing up, going home to recover, then meeting friends for dinner. I missed you helping at Lunch Club, it’s such hard work, though I love doing it. The oldies all came back pleased to see each other, it was very noisy. Some of them know that I find the cooking a struggle, so they come to check up on me – one of the men told me they had put me on “Suicide Watch” just in case! Forty three people came, but there was enough – sort of – some had to have sausages.

Saturday was preparing Sunday School, trying to clean up the messy house a bit, buying food for a big breakfast for all the students at the church, stuff like that.

All this was ‘extra’ stuff. You have to remember that I had all the usual ‘jobs’ of caring for the animals, cooking vast amounts of food for the boys to eat, trying to keep the house relatively hygienic.

The eggs in the incubator should hatch next week. I am trying to get a hen to go broody, then when they hatch I’ll put them under her. It’s not working very well so far. There are lots of eggs in the nest (which usually is enough to turn a hen broody) but they don’t like the weather. They sit for a couple of hours, then get bored and go for a wander around the garden. This won’t work when they have new hatchlings – they’ll die of cold unless she sits all the time. Annoying. Perhaps you could pop back to poultry-sit?

Take care,
Love, Anne x

PS. I had just finished writing this when I went to check the incubator and one of the eggs is shaking and cracked. It’s EARLY! Rushed around in a panic, filling a plastic crate with hay, trying to find where I put the water and food pots a year ago, fixing a heat lamp at the right height above the crate. All ready now. Sometimes they take a couple of days to actually hatch, but occasionally it’s just a few hours, so I need to be ready.

Now I keep going back to check. I still find watching ducklings hatch incredibly exciting. The egg just has a tiny crack at the moment. When I shine a torch on it, it shakes from side to side while the duckling inside tries to unfold. A little miracle. I’m sure the family will understand why we have no food in the cupboards…….

You can read my sister’s letters at : http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk

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Dinner Date Disaster - A Letter

We were invited to a dinner dance. I used to love that sort of thing, probably when I changed shape less regularly and could depend on my dress fitting in all the right places. I also find wearing a heels a real struggle now, my feet are used to wearing wellies and I have a tendency to totter in anything else. Hard to stride in heels.

The invitation said 'Black Tie'. Easy for the men then, just a bow tie and dinner jacket. But does that mean a long dress or a cocktail dress? Decided to take both just in case (we were staying over.) Both were tighter than I remember.

So, off we went to the dinner dance. We checked into a nearby hotel, looked at the room, which seemed small but nice, had a quick look at the 92 channels on the tele which all showed the same thing, played a bit of Candy Crush (as you do), then I casually asked Husband what the time was. It was fifteen minutes before the bus left that took us to the venue.

Went in to bit of a panic. Brushed hair, found tights, squeezed into dress, etc. Now, when I said that 'Black Tie' was easier for men, that was bit of an assumption. It is possible for men to mess up here. Husband then announced that he had forgotten cuff links.

We both paused. His shirt is one of those posh fiddly ones which has no buttons, you wear fancy studs at the front and the double cuffs are fastened with cuff links - which he had forgotten. Luckily he was a Boy Scout, always prepared, and he had string in his pocket. Yes, string. So I tied the cuffs together with string, tied a tight knot, cut the string close and hoped no one would notice. Husband assured me that a) this was not as funny as I was finding it and b)this was clearly the precursor to all the very expensive knotted cuff-links that you can now buy in shops. I wasn't convinced.

The next disaster was when Husband realised that he had also forgotten the studs that fasten the front of his shirt. This was more of a problem. A shirt held together by bits of string would be obvious (and it was so not that kind of event.) We considered abandoning the dinner (a bit rude to the hosts) or trying to find a shop (unlikely.)

Then Husband - ex Boy Scout - realised he had a sewing kit in his bag. This included buttons, a needle and a tiny length of white cotton. I was grateful that Mum forced us to learn to sew when children, and I sat on the bed and sewed on four buttons where they would show. There was enough cotton for three loops per button, so if they were put under any strain at all, they would fall off.

We rushed to Reception, caught the shuttle bus to the venue and had a wonderful evening. There were lots of important, running major organisations, semi celebrity people present - and us, with a shirt tied up with string and precarious buttons. Found myself giggling at odd times. But the dinner was fabulous, the people were interesting, the buttons survived the dancing; and I think that no one noticed.....

Thanks for your letter, hope you enjoyed Easter. I certainly will NOT be hitting you over the head if you agree to help with something else. You are a brilliant help! I think we work very well together actually - as long as I am in charge. I like that I can just ask you to do something and you can read instructions and do it - surprisingly few people in the world can do that. It is a shame you are going back to Canada, sisters should definitely live on the same continent......

Take care,
Love, Anne x

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You can read my sister’s letters at : http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk

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