THE FOLLOWING PAGES ARE DEDICATED TO:
FENELLA (11)
'MOORBROOK BODY AND SOUL'
29.12.91 - 22.9.03
2003 was a sad year for us: we lost our beloved Fenella (The Second). It has taken me until now to find the courage, and words,
to compose this dedication; to do so earlier would have been unbearably painful. It was so strange, the way it happened: originally
it was Flossie who took ill, in August of last year. It was sudden in onset, and developed with frightening rapidity into pneumonia
and kidney failure. Over the next week it was literally 'touch and go', with Ian our vet coming almost daily. Even though the
pneumonia had cleared and her kidneys were functional again. Flossie was failing fast. At last he sadly declared it was time to
'help her out' as she was obviously dying and seemed to have no will to live. 'She is so sad, Nina. She has given up,' he said
to me, and I could no longer see her for tears. It was true though. Flossie could not even stand and seemed to have lost the desire
to live. I begged for time and he gave me 24 hours to 'get her on her feet'. I worked around the clock with her, cajoling and
bullying and encouraging, trying anything I could, and went wild with joy when she managed to stagger a few desperate steps.
Despite collapsing after a warm bath and massage in the wee hours, shortly afterwards she asked for and ate a biscuit.
It was the turning point and she didn't look back. Her courage was, and still is, (considering she has lost her life-companion)
something wonderful and humbling to behold. Ian my vet calls her 'a miracle on legs'.
I now truly believe that Flossie had sensed that it was Fenella who was dying, though none of us suspected it at the time,
and that her grief was the underlying cause of her mysterious collapse. I worked around the clock with Flossie, and thankfully
she made a good recovery. Weeks later Fenella was diagnosed with a liver tumour; two weeks after that our beautiful 'Big Girl'
was dead. She would have been twelve at Christmas.
But I don't want this dedication to focus on sadness. Anyone who knew Fenella would remember her as big, beautiful,
boisterous - and barking! (literally and metaphorically too at times!). We still relate the story of how Flossie (11)
and Fenella (11) came to us back in 1991. A few months previous I had lost the original Flossie at the age of nearly 14 years,
(the first Fenella died several years before) and was broken-hearted. It transpired that everyone knew about the new pups except me!
Come my birthday in May, Jim arrived home and we sat in the kitchen eating supper. He played it all 'poker faced' and I didn't
suspect a thing. Eventually he said I had best take a look at my present, and led me down the hall to the spare bedroom.
Still suspecting nothing, I opened the door - and was confronted by heaven, and absolute chaos! Two beautiful pink and white
setter pups - and a room that looked as though a wild bull had rampaged through it! He had pushed them through the window to
conceal their arrival, and left them there whilst we ate supper!
Once the initial shock and inevitable tears and cuddles (the latter in respect of the pups - but certainly not Jim at this stage!),
I began to take in what had happened. Apart from the general mess, scraps of paper lay over every inch of the floor resembling a
shower of confetti - or a freak blizzard! It was some minutes before the truth of the matter dawned: I had a life-long interest
in the stars, and Jim had bought me a telescope so powerful it was possible to view the Sea of Tranquillity and other lunar features.
Flossie had pieces of 'confetti' sticking to her mouth whilst Fenella sat there with an angelic look on her face.
The explanation became clear: Flossie had chewed up the huge Moon Map supplied with the telescope!
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