Hello,
With less than a few days until his operation I thought I would again try and teach my puppy some valuable life skills, like how to conduct ones self when in a peculiar environment whilst containing bowel movements, sitting in the front seat of a moving vehicle whilst not being sick or having a pampering sleepover round your Mom's friend's house as they all sit around chatting shit and smoking like it's1984 their in a seedy nightclub.
I wouldn't say it was the best experience he has had, however, that being said it certainly went a lot better than anticipated. I started our trip as I normally do stopping off at Nanny Pumpkin's for a coffee and a biscuit. We chatted about mine and Mr Warehouses new edition since she had not yet met our little bundle of fur, cooeing over him like a new baby and admiring him from a distance. Truth be told I don't think that my Nanny Pumpkin is much of a pet person especially that of dogs. I assume, partly from what she has told me and partly from my own judgement that as a military family they were surrounded by families who would get a dog or a cat and then have to give it up several weeks later when they moved army barracks only to be disappointed when Mittens or Rover could not come with them. I do recall somewhere that my father and his brothers had won a goldfish at a local fair and that my Nanny Pumpkin had agreed to let them keep it. If I remember correctly that the goldfish met its end in the same way many do with one flush and a toilet burial.
I briefly saw my aunty, uncle and cousins as they had also popped by to see me and the new puppy, after which I tried to dash over to my other Nana's to see my uncle and her before my uncle went to go and play golf. I knew before even stepping foot inside the jazzy carpeted house that she had lived in for the last decade or so that my Scottish Nana would be much more reciprocal to my baby-pooch. I knew for a fact that my Nana had grown up in the harsh reality of postwar Scotland with Jack Russells and other dogs, always a good companion for running across summer fields and icy winter walks. Picking him up she cuddled him like a toddler and even let him lick her face which I know a lot of people detest.
I thought to myself as I listened to several of the same stories as I had before over and over again that ultimately these will be the moment I will cherish once she is gone. In her mid-80's now her soft white curls seemed to wiggle whenever she would laugh about some of the good times that she used to have back in her younger years. We spoke alot about my upcoming wedding next year and discussed a lot about her wedding and how different it was back then.
I never knew that my mother's parents met when my Granda had come to stay at my Nana's house with her family as he was working locally in a small Scottish village near the border of England. After several weeks, work took my Granda elsewhere in the country but before he had left making sure that my Nana kept in touch. Several weeks later my great-great-grandmother (my Nana's Nana) fell ill and in her final few moments shared some wisdom that it would not be the last time that my Nana and my Granda met. Sure enough, following the funeral, my Nana sent a letter to my Granda informing him of the death in the family. Soon enough they were writing every week to one another and slowly but surely over the week's their friendship turned to love and grew stronger.
Just over a year after meeting, work brought my Granda back into the area again and they met again. This time my Granda asked my Nana to marry him. Wonderful news and exciting updates for the families, except for there was one big problem. He was Protestant and she was Catholic. From my very basic understanding and knowledge of either side, They worship the same God, but the principles of their faith are different? In any circumstance, my Nana's parents were not having any of it and refused the relationship, even so much so that after fainting and falling over, my great-grandmother forced my Nana (woozy on pain medication) to write a letter to her fiance telling him that she no longer wanted to marry him.
Had my Nana's sister not said anything then I may well not be here sharing the story with you. Several months later after multiple letters whilst my Granda was away working my Nana went to go and meet him. Stepping off the bud from a nearly thirty-mile round trip, it was like they had never been a part and without a moment to spare my Granda took my Nana by the hand and they went to buy a ring. Now telling her parents wasn't easy and after moving away to be closer to him she had upset her parents greatly. So much so that by the time the wedding rolled around a few weeks later, none of her family turned up, not even her father to walk her down the aisle. My Nana didn't wear a white dress and instead opted for a traditional shift suit with a boxy coat all in traditional tartan tweed. Every person in the Church in Oxford was from my Granda's side of the family and a few friends. And all because he was Protestant and she was Catholic.
Her black and white wedding photos were certainly something to look back on and cherish as she recalled and remembered how the day went. And as my little fur baby fell asleep hold-up on the jazzy carpet I thought about how this could be me in a few decades time, remembering all the fun and joyous moments I had with friends and family at my own wedding. I think that it is certainly moments like this that I cherish just talking and in a way getting to know my Nana before she was a Nana. Finding out all those little things that makes her who she is and in a way trickles down the tree, making me who I am and who my children will be.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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