Caring for cathy, p.19
Caring for Cathy, page 19
The music had stopped. Mr Temple, belying his sluggish manner, jumped to his feet. Poppy sprang up too, and whined, and Mr Temple rolled her over on her back, tickling her belly.
“You will bring her round?”
“I will. I’ll give you a call,” David said, fingering the card Mr Temple handed to him.
“But in the meantime, I’m off to Hawaii to attend a conference, and collect a prize!”
As David moved slowly down Eccleston Street with Poppy, he thought again about Cathy’s notion of coupledom. David’s worry about the Anita-Graham couple, slitting its own belly in a sad, and bloody seppuku, was wrong. It had, instead, shed the dead husk of its own coupledom, and released two individuals.
And from a creature of the half-light, Desmond-Anita had become a being, with full strength, and enthusiasm for life. David tried to see the tortuous course the reborn creature might follow, as it twisted and turned on the journey – through various homes, and hotels, and trips to Ascot, and holidays on Caribbean islands, its two pairs of eyes glaring out in different directions, its two half-brains, each frantically trying to decipher the confusion of messages from the other half-brain. David felt glad to just have Poppy.
One day, after lunch, Helmut came into the dining room leading Poppy, to everybody’s surprise except David’s. Helmut had with him Rose, and Ian, who had been promoted from a shift manager, to the new post of manager of Denby Hall. Instead of the usual uniform shirt, Ian wore an old grey suit, dating from a time when he was less muscular. His strong neck stuck out, and his bare wrists protruded from the short sleeves.
Cathy’s party aside, it was unheard of and against the rules to bring an animal inside the Hall – although Helmut made the rules. When they saw Poppy, the residents began clapping, whistling, shouting, and stamping their feet. Poppy put her nose in the air, and howled in what seemed an acknowledgement.
“Sit, Poppy, sit!” Helmut commanded, and Poppy obeyed, wriggling her nose, and scraping her wagging tail on the floor. When Poppy did this and she was excited, as she was now, she shifted her weight, lifting one front paw an inch, and then the other, jigging on the spot without changing her position. She exuded enthusiasm that was catching.
Helmut called for order, and the spoon banging eventually stopped.
“I want to tell you today that Poppy is going to have a new master. You will all be able to to see her more often, because I am giving her to David Thurgood!”
David had already discussed this with Helmut, who knew how much he wanted to look after Poppy. She had become a kind of unofficial mascot of Denby Hall. Helmut had satisfied himself that Poppy could be housed and fed at David’s apartment. He had said how difficult it was for him to arrange for Poppy to have a good walk each day, because an increasing amount of his time was spent at the Kent neurodisability home, where none of the patients could help, because none were mobile, and he was too busy.
David rose from the table, and crossed the floor to thank Helmut, and take Poppy’s leash.
Pandemonium broke out – or rather resumed – at the conclusion of Helmut’s announcement, and did not end until Keith rushed up and down the main aisle, waving the residents back to their seats, and shouting, “Come on now, fair’s fair!” and David led Poppy outside.
Each day, when David was working at Denby Hall, he walked Poppy to the grounds, and tied her to the garden seat on the porch. Residents who were able to come and go, often spent time with her. Those who were well enough, but not allowed out alone, would sometimes gather on the porch with a care assistant, on a fine day, to have a smoke. Poppy was often the centre of this group. Poppy’s leash was long enough for her to sit in front of the lobby windows, which she sometimes did when she was alone, looking into the Hall, her head moving from side to side, as she puzzled about the movements of the people behind the glass.
Gil Hogg, Caring for Cathy
