A Little Off the Top

Ken Blackmore
Copyright © 2004 Kerry Blue Terrier Foundation

So summer is once again upon us, and my poor Kerry Blue is suffering. Having spent the best part of her four and a half years in the relatively comfortable climate of Ireland, Jezebel, along with her owners, has been living in the topsy-turvy weather world of Vancouver for nearly a year, and she doesn’t know what to make of it at all. From the uncommon snow-flurries in January that caught everyone by surprise, to the scorching heat of August, Jezebel has taken to pawing the remote control of the TV lately, gazing at the weather channel with obsessed interest. As much as we clever humans can pick and choose what to wear at the start of the day, my dog-breath pal with four legs cannot.

We try to keep her as cool and agreeable as possible during the warm months. Jezebel’s groomer, Marlene, pays regular visits to our house, washing and scrubbing and clipping and snipping until our furry black sheep transforms into a black swan. And vain too - calling Jezebel ‘gorgeous’ will have her lifting her head and actually posing - I do believe she is a contender for Miss Canine Diva 2004.

Weather wise, these past few weeks have been a mixed bunch. From blue skies and unbearable heat to cold, wet spells, Jezebel has been carefully peering out the door, her shiny black nose sniffing the air suspiciously. Unclipped, if it is too warm she can’t hike it like she usually can, and if it’s raining, she hates getting her coat wet. (Did I mention that she’s a reincarnated cat in a Kerry Blue’s body? She loves to paddle and swim in lakes/rivers/oceans, but the slightest drop of rain and she runs for cover, or the nearest umbrella.)

Yet last Tuesday it was insanely hot, and my normally energetic dog was just wiped out, lying panting on the living room floor. No amount of martini’s or fanning her Cleopatra-style would cool her (“Just leave the bottle, darling,” she told me), so I got on the phone and called her groomer. The Kerry Blue spotlight pierced the evening sky ‘Batman’ like, Jezebel content in the knowledge that help was on its way …

Marlene arrived on Thursday, 11am. As my wife and I headed out for coffee to allow her to work without distraction, we suggested that she clip Jezebel like my head – shaved as a basketball. We decided to keep her coat as tight as possible for the summer months, including her furry legs, her most attractive feature, all said and done. Though she knew relief was at hand, on hearing the bath being run and seeing the two of us heading out the door, Jezebel grumbled and swore under breath. I am sure the last thing I saw of my ole ‘pal’ was her raising her front leg and giving me the paw …

We returned an hour and a half later, the smell of coffee and bagels no doubt filling the house, Jezebel eyeing us distrustfully. However, the possibility of food was the last thing on her mind. For you see, unfortunately, the day that we picked to get her clipped was damp, cold, and downright miserable. Not sunny. No tropical heat. No desert winds razing all it touched. It was WET and COLD. And Jezebel was clipped tighter than a plucked chicken.

“Oh, isn’t she gorgeous?” my wife immediately exclaimed.

“She’s a beautiful girl!” Marlene agreed.

“I’m freezing!” Jezebel wailed, escaping the clutches of Marlene and dashing into the living room, rubbing off the furniture, snorting and shivering simultaneously.

“I bet she feels a lot better now that she has that fur coat off her,” my wife commented, bending down to pet her.

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Jezebel retorted, running downstairs before just as quickly dashing back upstairs. “It’s cold down there!”

While my wife saw Marlene to the door, I’m sorry to say that I couldn’t look my best-pal-in-the-entire-world in her eye. This was not my dog. Had she put on weight? I didn’t notice before. She looked so different, so … un-Kerry Blue, and her legs, my God, look at her skinny legs! Cover up, girl, before someone sees, you look like a four-legged spider!

\I’ve been assured that her treasured coat will grow back; and that come the searing months of July, August and September she will stop blaming me for ruining her Crufts chances and thank me for keeping her cool.

Meantime, anyone got two pairs of 80’s leg-warmers for sale …?

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