It’s not like I’m bothered, right, I’m just saying. I mean, the clue’s in the title: My life as a MEG-A-STAR. Is Mum a MegaStar? She is not. Is Else a MegaStar? What do you think? And then, right, not only does Mum “borrow” my blog, without even asking (seriously), but all she does is go on about Elsie, like the whole world doesn’t know already it’s Elsie’s 10th birthday, yeah big deal. And she never hardly mentions me at all* , and actually I’d just like to point out that it was actually my birthday too, actually, my official one, which I share with Elsie, cos no one knows when I was born, not that it makes any difference cos nobody gives a damn, clearly. It’s not like I’m bothered, but I was 9 yesterday, and I’m just saying 9 is much better than 10, objectively speaking, it’s just a much nicer number, compact and with better curves.
Honestly, you’d think the world had stopped turning for Elsie Pie’s 10th birthday (yawn!). And in case you were wondering, really it didn’t, and there’s been loads of other stuff happening like the sugar beet harvest, and rabbits in the garden, and other stuff too, which I’ll tell you about, and like yesterday, right, Mum even let Elsie wear Billie’s collar, which is this very special handmade collar – black velvet with all pearls sewn on – which our Auntie Juliet made for Billie’s 10th birthday, and no-one’s ever worn it since, cos then Billie died, and do you know what I’m saying, it’s not like I’m bothered, it’s just I’m the MegaStar, right?
*and what she does say isn’t even accurate. ‘Mextrovert’ Is that even a word? ‘Behavioural issues’??? Well they certainly weren’t mine!
Here’s the evidence. I’m just saying, like, objectively speaking, black velvet would look better against red.
It’s not always easy being the sister of a Tripawd, and it’s definitely not easy when that Tripawd is a full on mextrovert MegaStar and you’re quite a shy little Pie. But Elsie is a true survivor. As a pup she was so ill, that for a time it seemed highly unlikely she would make it to adulthood. Perhaps in part because of this, and because of the constant care she needed, we bonded extremely closely. I’m not sure she’s yet realised we’re separate beings, but then I’m not sure I have either. When Meg came crashing into our lives, with all her behavioural, and then physical challenges, it was a huge adjustment for Elsie, and I’m enormously proud of the way she handled it. Today, as we celebrate Elsie’s 10th birthday with meatballs for breakfast, a trip to the beach, pawty hats, a treasure hunt, games and steak for tea, I just hope she knows how much we love her, how proud I am that she is part of my life and what a very precious Pie she is.
And, in case you’re feeling starved of pics, here’s a photo tribute to our ten years together
So Mum read a book on photography and now she reckons she’s Mario Testino. Seriously. It’s embarrassing. Like suddenly she’s going on about apertures and f-stops and Elsie and I are like YAAAWWWWN.
I’m like why d’you need photographs anyway? If you want to remember something just roll in it. A lifetime of memories I got stored in my coat. Albeit I lost like 15 albums worth when Mum insisted on ‘trimming’ my bloomers. Less said about which the better.
What really does my nut is all the waiting around. Just hold it right there she says to me, like 50,000 times on every walk, so what I do, right, is I wait until she’s got it in focus, and then just as her finger touches the shutter, I move my head, or wag my tail, or jump up, or lie down or zip off after a hare. HAHAHAHAHA! It’s alright for Elsie, cause Else never moves much anyway. Not even her face. She’s got two expressions. Mildly disgruntled and hungry, or mildly disgruntled and HUNGRY. That’s it. That’s the Pie. And Mum’s got like five thousand photos of it. I’m telling you. Seriously.
So just about every photo Mum’s ever taken of me is blurred. And now she’s like. ‘Girls, I need a tripod.’ ‘You already got a tripod,’ I said. And she’s like, ‘No, I haven’t!’ And I just looked at her like waiting for the penny to drop. ‘Oh Meg!’ she says, after like half an hour. Seriously – that’s how long it took. ‘Oh Meg! Don’t be silly… Ooh,’ she says, ‘Meg. Can you just hold that look right there!’
Ten years ago today, I lost my beloved Billie. It is very hard to comprehend that it has been ten years. Ten years since I held her and gave her cuddles, since I kissed the dip in the top of her head, since I stroked her warm tummy and when I stopped she would raise her paw and demand that I continue.
Billie was the sweetest, gentlest, most loving friend it is possible to imagine. She was a true companion, in person and in spirit. She accompanied me everywhere, her calm, gentle nature making her welcome even in places where dogs are not usually allowed. When I studied for an MA, she came with me to classes, sitting beside me for the three-hour workshop, an occasional lap from her water bowl, but otherwise not a peep. She loved going to pubs. At our local, the Lord Palmerston, I would buy her a steak (medium rare) and they would chop it up for her and serve it in her own special porcelain bowl. She came with me to work. I worked at the time, a couple of days a week in a literary agency. Billie came with me on the train, trotting along through the crowds of commuters, we would stop at the deli to buy her some snacks (parma ham, roast beef), then she’d curl up beside my desk as I worked. When she fancied a break, she’d wander off and visit the other offices. She would walk in on meetings. Several times, I was told that in the midst of a tricky negotiation, the appearance of Billie would ease the tension and make everybody smile. She came to launches, unphased by the assembled ranks of literary stardom, Billie took it all in her stride.
Billie handled London with aplomb. She travelled by tube, by bus and train. She loved to take the boat down the Thames to Greenwich, where we’d wander round the markets together, go to a cafe for lunch. But it was in the mountains of North Wales, where we spent several months every year, that we shared some of our the most magical times together. We knew those mountains intimately. We climbed them in every sort of weather, sharing sandwiches behind dry stone walls to shelter from the wind. I loved the way we pooled our skills. Several times, when the mist came down, or when the bracken had grown over the path, it was Billie who guided us home. Once, on Cnicht, she broke a toe and I carried her three miles down to the road, her chin resting patiently on my shoulder, where, thank heavens, a passing farmer, took pity and gave us a lift.
Billie was the sweetest friend. I was not in a good place when I got her, and she saw me through the most difficult years of my life, with her gentle, dependable love. The loss of her, aged ten, from a brain tumour was almost unbearable. The end was horrendous. She reacted badly to the euthanasia drug (an extremely rare occurrence, and almost certainly a result of the brain tumour making her reactions unpredictable. The neurologist, who was senior and highly experienced, was herself badly shaken by it), and this haunted me for a long time. Three weeks and one day after Billie, on 9th August 2007, my father died, also from a brain tumour. It’s extraordinary the pain you can somehow survive.
Billie with my father. This is the last photo I have of them together.
There have been an awful lot of losses in our community recently. Billie is an old timer now at the Bridge, and I like to think of her greeting Colonel Mosby and Kylie and Otis and offering to show them the ropes. She was not a boisterous character, not one for the rough and tumble. She barked maybe five times in her life. But should anyone be feeling in any way uncertain (are such things possible at the Bridge?), Billie will be there to reassure them, with her sweet, gentle presence, her constancy, her quiet, unwavering love.
Well I haven’t updated my blog in a while, which the reason why is very simple: life has been so BOOOOOORING I’ve had nothing to write about. Boring for me and Else that is, not for Mum, oh no, Mum’s had plenty of fun, gallivanting all over the place, to the South of France, to America, and Elsie and I just left behind, and nobody even thinking of us, except Auntie Linda, who sent us some toys, but nobody else even thought about us at all and especially not Mum.
And then when she got back she never even hardly looked at us, not even hello, just be quiet girls I’ve got to get this work done. Well Else and I we were so bored we were dying, especially me, I mean Elsie a bit, but especially me, cos Pies can get by, but Megastars need LOTS of entertainment.
Well, FINALLY, today, it was like Mum suddenly remembered I existed. Hey, girls, she says, so how d’you fancy going to the beach today? I’m like HELLO???? I mean, how do you THINK???? So then we got in the car and went, and seeing as how nowadays I only get to do something fun like once a decade, I knew I had to pack as much joy as I possibly could like into every single second. Elsie just pottered, but that’s Elsie for you. Pies potter, Megastars not so much, actually Megastars not at all…
So here’s the pics just to prove it actually happened, in case you think I must of been dreaming, which I wouldn’t blame you neither, I half think I was myself.
As I say, Else mostly pottered…
But I didn’t, I went for a swim…
And then I did some digging…
Else was still pottering…
And then I had another swim, and Mum went all arty black and white, I’m like whatever just throw me the ball.
And Else thought for a bit. What shall I do now? I think I’ll go for a potter…
And then we did it all over again and that’s how we spent our day, and it really honestly totally was the absolute best day EVER. And I’m not saying Mum’s forgiven exactly for going away and leaving us but I reckon if we went a couple more times, well no promises but you know what I’m saying, let bygones be bygones and all of that, a couple more trips to the beach, a steak dinner, maybe, we’ll have to see…
Billie with my father. This is the last photo I have of them together.
