Daph in the gaff

On 3 Feb. I went to Almost Home animal rescue near Moira, a 45-minute drive, to meet Daphne, a wee springer who had been there since August. I spent the next week fortifying my back garden so it would pass muster as a secure garden. Easier said than done with mature hedges.

And so on 8 Feb. I collected herself at Moira and brought this frightened little article home. She had been badly beaten by the man who was training her as a gun dog. One of the things they train them for is silence (so as not to disturb birds). I've had her for nearly two weeks and haven't heard a peep out of her.

The bastard who had her was going to shoot her because she wasn't making the grade as a gun dog. My 100% gain to his loss. It has been a privilege and a joy to see her emerge from her frightened little shell. She spent the first few days in or near her kennel, which is in the sunroom. This progressed into exploring the kitchen (above). Then she decided, given Paddy's lead, that it would be OK to enter the living room. She now loves the sofa and hops onto it whenever she can.

She is very different from Paddy. A very sweet little girl who I doubt will ever get enough cuddles. Paddy is more independent and a bit less enthusiastic about being constantly petted. This week I had a 2.5-hour online training at work. Here's me on my sofa with my pack.

And here's Daphne playing close attention to the presentation on my laptop.

Paddy is not all that fussed about her. But, just by being him, he is helping her with her confidence in the car, on walks, with people. I took her to the Helen's Bay beach and I doubt she had ever seen the ocean. She watched him race in and was a bit nervous about the waves coming up the beach. By the time we left, she was trotting parallel to the beach, not quite up to her tummy in the water. While Paddy dove through the surf to retrieve a Frisbee.

I've wanted a second dog for years but somehow never managed to see it through. I think not playing golf is why I have finally made this happen – more time, more energy to take on a new little life.

In other news, Marek took me to see Autumn Journal, a long form poem by Belfast-born Louis MacNiece. It was performed brilliantly by Cork actor Eanna Hardwicke. It was written in 1938 on the brink of WW2 and has eerie echoes in today's headlines. The opening lines:

Close and slow, summer is ending in Hampshire,

Ebbing away down ramps of shaven lawn where close-clipped yew

Insulates the lives of retired generals and admirals

And the spyglasses hung in the hall and the prayerbooks ready in the pew

And August going out to the tin trumpets of nasturtiums

And the sunflowers’ Salvation Army blare of brass

And the spinster sitting in a deck-chair picking up stitches

Not raising her eyes to the noise of the ’planes that pass

Northward from Lee-on-Solent.

It is in essence a meditation, through the minutiae of daily life, on the British public's denial of the inevitability of war, and also a reprimand, given the suffering of the Spanish during the civil war (he visited Barcelona while writing the journal, shortly before bombing commenced). He contrasted the bravery and conviction of the Catalans, and the international brigade that joined them, with the British eagerness for Chamberlain's appeasement.

Also of literary note, I hosted the book club last night, when we discussed An Officer and a Spy, by Robert Harrison. His book Conclave was just honoured with a BAFTA for the screen adaptation (i.e. best film). I thought it was a fascinating look at anti-semitism in France. I have so long heard of the Dreyfus Affair in connection with anti-semitism, but I never really knew what it was. The book tells the story in appalling detail. I think my fellow book club members found it a bit tiresome – lots of people to keep track of – and repetitive, the case was tried multiple times. But it is a fascinating study of corruption on multiple levels and the moral courage of one man to take on a system that was rotten to its core.

18 Feb.