LEST WE FORGET

A year ago today I was woken at just gone 8:00am by a phonecall from the vet. Biggles had died of massive organ failure in the night. We still miss you, little buddy (even though you bit the Fire Prevention Officer).

PRUDENCE AND POPPY IN THE SNOW

The general consensus of opinion amongst the furry members of the CFZ Family is that winter is over-rated. Surprisingly, however, Biggles liked it.

MUIRHEAD`S MYSTERIES: A FEW HONG KONG SNIPPETS AND A FLOATING BOTTLE

Friends, this is a Muirhead`s Mysteries Extra dedicated to Jon and Corinna`s memory of Biggles.

I`ve found a few interesting Hong Kong items over the last week or so in addition to what I found in Oxford last weekend.

There is a mention of a “black monkey” as a pet in S. Bard`s `Voices From the Past. Hong Kong 1842-1918 (1) but unfortunately I didn`t make a note of the exact date but I`m pretty sure it was around the time of World War 1. As far as I know there have never been any all black monkeys in Hong Kong. Anyone know about this?

The Hong Kong Telegraph of March 23rd 1911(2) reported porpoises in Hong Kong harbour whilst the same newspaper of May 13th 1914 (3) covered the story of a 23ft whale in Tolo Harbour. Tolo Harbour is on the eastern side of the New Territories.

And now this completely different story I found in The China Mail of December 16th 1931:

THE SEA GIVES UP A JOKE

Year-Old Message In A 30-Year-Old Bottle

“After being in the sea for thirty years, and perhaps embedded for long periods in ice, a bottle dropped Overboard by the Baldwin-Ziegler Polar expedition (which returned to Norway in 1902), has been found at Aith, Shetland Islands.”

This is the opening chapter of a little romance of the sea that went wrong, for later news shows that Shetland got excited too soon. The bottle, true enough, had originally to the expedition of thirty years ago, but when opened it was found to contain a message from a Danish expedition sent to East Greenland last year.

This expedition has apparently been using drift bottles made for the explorers of thirty years ago.(4)

1 S.Bard Voices from the Past Hong Kong 1842-1918 Hong Kong University Press 2002
2 S. Bard Ibid p.259
3 Ibid p.310
4 The China Mail Dec. 16th 1931 p.9

U2 A SORT OF HOMECOMING

And you know its time to go
Through the sleet and driving snow
Across the fields of mourning
Lights in the distance

And you hunger for the time
Time to heal, desire, time
And your earth moves beneath
Your own dream landscape…

THANK YOU OLIVIA

I adore my two step-daughters, and it is always nice to see them. When Olivia (the younger) telephoned to ask if it was OK to visit us on Thursday night, we of course said that it was. I knew that she wanted to try and comfort her mother who is still very upset after recent events. What I didn't know was that she was planning to make doggie gravestones for Biggles (2008-2010) and Tess (1992-2008) to mark where the little fellows lie. When we saw them in situ Olivia, Corinna and I burst into tears whereas Ivan (who had a hangover) and Graham (who didn't) just looked suitably solemn...

Thank you, my dear.

A BIG THANK YOU

Corinna and I would like to thank everyone who has been so kind in thought, word and deed since the sudden and completely unexpected death of our dear collie Biggles on Tuesday morning. Life is hard without him but at this point in our lives there are only two things that we can do.


We could do what other pet owners of our acquaintance have done and commit a sort of emotional suttee, turn our house (and this blog, and OTT) into a memorial to the little fellow, and allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by our grief, or we can take the grief, grok it in its fullness, and move on, hopefully the wiser and the better for the experience. Apart from the unfortunate occasion with the Fire Prevention Officer's ankle, knowing Biggles was a positive experience and he enriched our lives for the short time we were priveliged to know him.


So forgive us if we have the occasional lapse into sentiment, and dwell upon him from time to time, but we will - I promise - do our best to move on...

CORINNA SAYS GOODBYE TO BIGGLES

http://cryptochick.blogspot.com/2010/10/goodbye-biggles.html

GOODBYE LITTLE BUDDY

Yesterday was a horrible day and I think what made it worst of all was that it was so completely unexpected. When Toby and Tessie (CFZ doggies Mk1 and 2) finally died it was at the end of a long (16 year +) life. Biggles had only just turned two in August, and the day before he died he was still chasing the cats and messing around the garden in a boisterous, though noticeably subdued manner.

We realised that he was ill, but had no idea that he was that ill. However, as Max said quite rightly when I telephoned him with the news yesterday morning, he was probably the strangest dog that I ever met. I strongly suspect that he had been the runt of the litter because he was prone to bouts of illness, going off his food and generally acting strangely. I still wince when I think about the day he nipped the fire prevention officer.

Poor little chap (Biggles I mean, not the fire prevention officer who was in possession of an offensive haircut).


I will probably write more about him over the next weeks or months, if only because writing things is my best way of coming to terms with stuff. But there is one thing that I do want to share.

Both Corinna and I were touched by the sheer volume of messages we had, both on the blog, by email, and on Facebook. Because he lived his entire life in the public eye, he touched the hearts of many more people than he would have done if he had been an ordinary domestic pet. He was the third CFZ doggie, and as Scottie Westfall wrote on my Facebook page yesterday: "Biggles's presence on the blogs and OTT will be sorely missed."

Life without him is proving to be just as hard as I thought it would be, and I went through this before - ten years ago - when Toby was put to sleep on the first of June 2000. After he died I swore that I would not allow myself to go through that level of pain again, and that I would not (as Kipling put it) "give my heart to a dog to tear", and for eight years I didn't. In questionable taste I used to say that although I had not planned it that way, in my life I had not been exactly a `one woman man`, but that I was undeniably a `one dog man`.

Only a few weeks after Toby left us, Graham's then girlfriend Tracey asked us if we could have her dog Tessie, who became CFZ doggie Mk 2, but she was always Richard's and Graham's dog, and whilst I was mildly fond of her, and she shared my space for the next eight years, she was never my dog.

Then two years ago Corinna brought back a delightful bundle of dogginess and almost instantaneously I fell in love and all my resolutions went out the window. At the risk of appearing mawkish, Biggles taught me that I could, indeed, love another dog. Now he has gone, but I am in far more positive a state of mind than I was when Toby died. Yes, I will probably once again give "my heart for a dog to tear". I have had a dog in my life for all but two periods of three or four weeks since 1985, and I cannot imagine life without one. And I shall, I am sure, love it as unconditionally as people and dogs have loved each other since our hairy ancestors first adopted an orphaned wolf cub or two, but I am sure of one thing: in the same way as not a day goes by without me thinking wistful thoughts of Toby, there will always be a Biggles-shaped hole in my heart.

LIZ CLANCY writes...

Biggles was only on this earth a little over two years and in my life, half of that, but I'm sure those of you out there who met him even just once will feel his loss for the deep hole it is.

I remember the last time I visited Myrtle Cottage; I was working at the spare computer in the office and Biggles decided he wanted more than the occasional pat on the head he had received since he came to sit by my chair, so I was suddenly confounded by the scrambling of an adorable black and white doggy heaving himself onto my lap. The back of that chair wasn't too secure either and soon Biggles and I were horizontal, but the persistent pooch still waited expenctantly for me to stroke and cuddle him.

It's been twenty years since I lost a canine member of my family so I've only a dim memory of what it feels like but if I can feel this sad as a person who met Biggles just a handful of times, God only knows the pain Jon and Corinna (and Oll and Graham) are feeling. I'm sure I speak for everyone in the CFZ when I say that Biggles and his surviving family down at HQ are in our prayers and thoughts.

VERY SAD NEWS: Biggles has died

Blogwatchers will know that Biggles has been unwell for the last few days. He went in to the vet yesterday, where he was diagnosed with a liver infection, and he died at 6:00 this morning. He will be buried alongside Tessie in the CFZ garden later today. We are all too upset to do anything else.

There is sorrow enough in the natural way

From men and women to fill our day;

And when we are certain of sorrow in store,

Why do we always arrange for more?

Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware

Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

BIGGLES IS ILL

Biggles is seriously unwell. He has a liver condition and will stay overnight at the vets for tests. We do not know yet whether this is an infection or something more serious.

Please keep your fingers crossed and remember him in your prayers to whichever deity you believe in....

LEAKY ROOF STORIES

As regular readers will know, the ceiling of Corinna's and my bedroom fell in the other night. I am sure that Graham will get it fixed in the next few days, but in the meantime Corinna, Biggles and I are camping out on the sitting room floor (which is surprisingly comfortable).


However, many people have sent their commiserations. Thank you guys, I appreciate that, and especially this anecdote from Dale Drinnon:


Benny had an opossum come crashing through his bedroom ceiling a few years ago. The place is still patched on the inside largely by a cardboard cutout. Benny said there had been just a little leak in the roof just at that place, and the opossum had worked its way in through that: he subsequently re-shingled the roof at that place so no more would follow.


It is stories like that which remind me why I love this blog so much.

APOLOGIES..

I am sorry that I have not been as useful over the last few days as I might have been. However, it seems that at Shosh's wedding last week I caught a cold. And as you may well know, colds and diabetes are not a particularly pleasant mix. I have been in bed for the past two days and have achieved practically nothing.

I occasionally get out of bed to read my emails, but then (together with my faithful furry companion Biggles) I retreat back to my pit and go back to sleep.

So, if you have written to me over the past few days and are expecting a reply, please be patient. This bloody disease cannot last forever....

THE DOG WITH THE LONGEST TONGUE IN THE WORLD

This is a news item that Biggles in particular thought was very important to put up today. It comes from the latest edition of Guinness World Records, which as far as I know still has my old mate Craig Glenday as editor, so I am sure he won't object to me borrowing it.

The new volume also includes skateboarding dogs and cat polydactyly so I can recommend it to any serious student of such stuff.

More here

WEIRD WEEKEND SCRAPBOOK: Parties and rumours

The Weird Weekend cocktail party took place yesterday evening and in contrast with last year's event, which got a little out of hand with too much noise and 120 high spirited drunks bouncing around my garden, it was a jolly and well behaved event.

About 35 people were there, which was a little disappointing; it would have been nice to have a few more, but it was great fun, and - just like the old days - Olivia, Ivan, Max, Richard F, Dave Baldwin, Gavin L-W, Corinna and I sat around in my kitchen with Biggles, and chewed the fat until the wee small hours.

First up this morning was Olivia, followed by Biggles and me. Only Ivan looked at all worse for wear.

When I was a young punk a band whose name I completely forget issued a press release stating that the lead singer categorically denied that he had been having an affair with Farrah Fawcett. It was a particularly tawdry publicity stunt and worked so well that I can't remember who they were.

A peculiar rumour seems to have been doing the rounds.
Apparently someone on Facebook has been claiming that the special guest we have advertised on Saturday afternoon is Stephen Spielberg. The world famous director dude is currently filming on Dartmoor, but has NOT been booked to appear at the WW and I think that it is monumentally unlikely that he has even heard of the CFZ, let alone planning to visit us.

I am mildly annoyed about this because I would hate anyone to think that we would stoop to planting false stories in the press and on the internet in order to boost ticket sales.

We leave that sort of chicanery to other people.

DOGGY BIRTHDAY CAKES

I had no idea that one could buy birthday cakes for one's dog, but one can, and we bought one for Biggles here



This appaling level of anthropormorphism shown in this video will do nothing for my reputation as a serious scientist.

PLEASE MR POSTMAN - A tiger in a box

Our postbag is always a rich and peculiar thing. In amongst the general detritus of everyday life such as telephone bills and final demands are a selection of arcane letters and packages that keep us sane. Today was no exception....

Bloggo reader and CFZ supporter Aubrey Menezes is a very talented sculptor, and we have featured his work before. A couple of weeks ago he was kind enough to tell us that he was giving Corinna and me a carved thylacine as a present. It arrived yesterday and is absolutely exquisite.

As you will read elsewhere in today's bloggo, we had an exciting Biggles-fuelled night, so instead of a carefully prepared photograph showing the thylacine in pride of place in the sitting room bathed in natural light, you have a picture of my beloved wife looking half awake at about 6:30 this morning after having spent the night up Biggles-sitting.

The thylacine, however, is a wonderful gift and means a lot to both of us. We shall treasure it immensely. Thank you Aubrey....

ROBERT SCHNECK TAKES THE CFZ TO TASK

Robert Schneck writes regarding the unknown insect blog the other day:

Hi Jon,
I think it's an ichneumon fly (or wasp) but no idea what kind. Those swollen back legs have me stymied.
Also, hate to complain, but the Biggles related news has been rather thin lately.
Sincerely,
Robert

Well, apart from the unfortunate incident with the Fire Prevention Officer, Biggles has been out of the limelight recently, but as Corinna reports over on her blog, he has still been the life and soul of the party. In the meantime, here is a picture of Biggles running the office in Corinna's absence....

OPEN GARDENS DAY ONE

Once a year we open up the CFZ grounds as part of the national Open Gardens scheme. This raises money for local charities and is part of village life with which I am happy to be involved.

We had over ninety visitors yesterday, and at times it was quite hectic with Oll being tour guide up at the museum, and Graham and I sharing welcoming duties for the rest of the garden.

Biggles and Corinna were indoors for most of the day, the latter looking after the former, who despite having been sans nads for a month or so now, still has a tendency to be over exuberant with unfamiliar members of the fairer sex.

REMEMBERING TOBY

It is a day late, but I write the blogs 24 hours in advance and I forgot the date. Ten years ago today (as I write this) and ten years ago yesterday (as you read it) at 12:45, Toby, the CFZ Dog Mk 1, had a lethal injection in his neck.

From Monster Hunter:

'Against her better judgment, Alison gave in to my pleadings and agreed that I could get a dog. In those days I was particularly lonely. For some reason, the NHS - at least in the Exeter Health Authority - operated a working shift of two and a half 12 and a hour days on, followed by two and a half days off, and working every other weekend. Despite my pleas that we were newlyweds and that it was causing us a considerable amount of unhappiness, the Paras be insisted on making Alison and me work as it shifts. This meant, that essentially, that although we had only been married a few months, we hardly ever saw each other. During the important parts of our marriage - the time when most couples are bonding with each other - we were essentially strangers. We only ever saw each other for a few hours in the evenings, by which time the person who had been at home all day was stir crazy, and the person who'd been at work was tired, and irritable and just wanted to go to bed. Alison had always said - with some justification - that one should not keep a dog in a small house without a garden. However, I maintained that as one or other of us were going to be at home pretty well all the time that it wouldn`t make any difference. And she eventually gave in.

During the days when I was off sick and existed in a haze of opiates, we scoured the newspapers, and the adverts in the windows of the pet shops for puppies. Eventually, we found one. We drove to a rather dishevelled housing estate on the outskirts of Dawlish, knocked on the door of the house described in the advert and would greeted by a hail of barking and scrabbling. A harassed looking man in late middle-age and so the door. He was accompanied by a 12 puppies who were rushing about his feet, tripping each other up, and all doing their best to make more noise than the others.

The harassed man explained that Toby's mother Gladys - a pedigree Black Labrador bitch - had been in his family for years, and had never evinced any interest in the opposite sex. For this reason, and also because of some unspecified medical complications he had never had her spayed. Much to everybody's surprise in ( including one suspects Gladys's), at the venerable age of eight she had escaped from the house and succumbed to the charms a dishevelled and rather disreputable male dog of uncertain antecedents which was kept by a seedy looking bloke about four doors up. The 12 puppies - who by this time were doing their best to eat my right foot - were the result.

I would like to be able to say that Toby`s eyes met mine, it and that an immediate bond was forged between us. However, it wouldn't be true. We chose him almost by default. Of the litter of 12 there were only three left that had not already been adopted. Two were bitches, and having heard course the cautionary tale of Toby's mother, and both of us having had experience of bitches in heat, howling, scratch and the paintwork, and doing it their best to escape in order to fulfill the sexual desires with any available canid, Alison and I had already decided that we wanted a male dog. Handing over a fiver in payment for the only boy puppy left we drove back to Exeter, with Toby - at that time even smaller than one of my shoes - killed up asleep on my lap.

That night, we committed what many people consider to have been a cardinal sin in dog ownership. We made to be up a bed in the kitchen and retired up to ou for room. Toby howled, cried and whined. The book that we had bought on the subject of dog ownership had warned us that this would happen, and had advised us to steel our hearts and ignore the pitiful vocalisations of the frightened young puppy. I couldn't do this. Toby's cries were breaking my heart, so in the middle of the night I walked down the stairs to the kitchen, picked him up and took him up to our bedroom. That night he slept in bed with us - a position he was to occupy for the next 15 years.'

And from a later chapter:

'The year 2000 had been a particularly horrible one anyway. Toby, the CFZ Dog and probably the best friend that I have ever had died of cancer in June at the age of sixteen. With his death a large part of my life was over. He had been my constant companion since he was six weeks old, and had been the one constant in a life of turmoil. The night before he died he was too weak to walk and we had to carry him to my bedroom, where he slept on my bed has he had done all his life. I knew that he would have to be put to sleep on the following day, and as Toby and I lay in bed together, I was crying like a grief stricken baby. Summoning reserves of strength that neither he or I knew he had, he pulled himself up to the top of my bed to lick my face and comfort me, as he had done every time I had been upset for the previous sixteen years. The following day I watched helplessly as the vet administered the lethal injection and I knew that my life would never be the same again.'

Not a day goes by that I don't think of him. I always swore that I would never (to quote Kipling "give my heart to another dog to tear", and it took eight years before Biggles came along and spoilt that resolution. Rest in Peace old friend.

http://www.cfz.org.uk/animals/toby.htm

BIGGLES UPDATE

Biggles is still feeling sorry for himself. The good news is that he does not have to go back to the vet again, but the bad news is that he has managed to dislodge the stitches in his smallest scar, and it has had to be `glued` shut. This means that he has to wear the cone for another few days and be restrained when he goes out. Poor fellow has been itching for a good run and some boisterous jumping about, and has not been able to do it for a week. now.

Let's hope that it heals properly and that he will be able to be back to normal soon...