Well it’s been almost three weeks now and with each passing day, we have to face the inevitable – Kelly, our faithful stray dog isn’t coming back.
On the evening of the 4th January, Kelly had played enthusiastically along with the other dogs and threw down his evening meal with gusto. Later he’d returned to his bed by the front door – and that was the last we saw of him. Thursday morning he was nowhere to be seen, we thought he’d be somewhere down the woods or in a nice little sun-trap warming himself, no big deal. But when we came back from shopping later that afternoon, he wasn’t there, in the middle of the gateway doing his usual hoppy-wiggly dance, proud as punch that we’d bought him some new stuff to eat, nor was he merrily snoring away in his bed. As the penny dropped, we had a search round the buildings – nothing. It was going dark now, so we could do nothing more until morning. And so the concern set in.
Over the following days, we searched fields, hedgerows and woodlands. We phoned neighbours and talked to a shepherd tending his flock a few fields away. Nothing, he’d simply vanished. During this time, the ‘what-if’ questions begin to make an appearance.
“He was about 15 years old the vet guessed, what if he’s had a heart attack or something.”
“That shepherd has some BIG dogs, what if he got too close in the night, could they have got him?”
“Has he strayed all the way over to the main road? What if he got hit, could he be lying on the verge somewhere?”
And so it goes on, an ever decreasing circle of fruitless thoughts that inevitably won’t bring him back or give us any piece of mind. A wholly depressing cycle to break out of and something we had to tell ourselves when we spotted each other inevitably starting down this dark and destructive path.
Over those three weeks we’ve watched the temperature plummet and the snow fall and each and every day we’ve missed him. At first, his bowl was filled each evening and each morning the contents remained, a dull and listless reflection of its former freshness, a reflection of our feelings and like a child restless for Santa’s visit on Christmas night, so we too sleep fitfully wondering if he’ll visit us under the veil of darkness.
Now, the bowl has been washed and put to one side, just in case. Somehow putting it away is like admitting defeat, that he won’t be back, that we’ve given up on him. So it sits on the drainer, ready.
______________________________________________
Kelly came to us out of nowhere, a bag of bones wobbling unsteadily in the garden. I don’t think he had the energy to move on – it was us or nothing. His left eye resembled a bleached Ping-Pong ball and the injury to his neck looked severe and old, he’d experienced something awful, survived and made it here.
Over the three and a half years he was here, he suffered twice more with the remnants of those injuries and in 2010 suffered the further indignity of losing one of his back feet to a farmer’s unshielded mower blade. For six weeks I tended to him, four times a day. Of course he pulled through and seemed to blossom all the more! Even on three legs he could out-run the other dogs appearing like a canine ‘where’s Wally’ everywhere you looked, hill-top or valley floor. He always seemed to be there looking back at you, waiting for his photograph.
His temperament was the best I’ve seen in a dog, ever-alert and quick to raise the alarm of approaching strangers, yet inquisitive and gentle with everyone – person or animal. When he needed treatment, although the pain must have been unbearable, he never cried or lashed out …… something the vet was amazed at. He wasn’t always on his best behaviour though, he had a sneaky habit of trying to commando-crawl through the hatch into the chicken pen to nick eggs and his periodic 4 a.m. barking marathons from the valley below were a particular turn-off!
But ultimately we had the most fantastic time together and we can only hope that the end – if there was an end,
came quickly and painlessly. If not, we wish him well wherever he is.
He came out of nowhere, I guess it’s fitting he went back that way.
G’night Kelly-boy wherever you are.
to use the Capo far more than previous winters. That has meant the Range Rover languishing in the corner. And that has been the cause of yet more trouble.
Let me start by saying that the Shorai is NOT a bad battery, it’s just not the right battery it seems for a large capacity V-twin. 
If you do nothing else to your Capo this year, do this. 
got me motivated enough to start the blog in the first place. It was (and still is) my Caponord Rally-Raid of course. I had this idea to write-up my own experiences, nothing anecdotal from others, only what I knew and experienced first hand. To that end it’s been quite successful – but limited, if nothing needs tinkering with, or breaks … what do I write? And that’s the Achilles heel of the blog.
Some songs, films or books can touch you deep where no other can, why – I’ve no idea, they just do. A book that did that for me was a Christmas present many years ago. A small unassuming book, the sort you’d read in an afternoon. The title – ‘Red Dog’. Written by Louis de Bernières after a trip to Australia where he came across the statue of a dog outside 
they did a fantastic job here … all the humour of the anecdotes shine through and make Red Dog as vibrant as the characters and background around him. We even get to see a tidy Honda 750K thrown in – so in a small way it’s a biker movie as well!
blinks with 5 litres remaining, so hey, it’s a runner! Clicking either gauge resets the calculators and ‘fills’ the tank to 25 litres. Turning off the bike/software doesn’t lose the calculations either, so taking a quick road-side slurp of coffee doesn’t mess up the figures. Happy days indeed!
and they are now also making boots from a factory in Treviso, Italy (more info to follow). The website is good, the telephone chat even better! But don’t expect instant gratification though, each set I’ve ordered I had to wait for (from 4-10 weeks depending on the time of year) …. remember, they are hand-made for YOU.
stone topping it had into the field and left it with a nice soil finish. Soil, feverishly sprouting vegetation and a few stray stones. August became a fading memory, then September along with it. The temperatures dipped and the sky became swollen with heavy storm clouds. And still no sign of the little man with a topping for our road.
