Yvette Rae
Without Prejudice
She's feisty and strong, sucking up heartbreak like a vaccuum cleaner and her advice is good, practical and down to earth, she swears like a trooper, calling a spade a shovel and adoring of her "babies"
I saw her once unseen as she held up her 6th boy and the look on her face was like she had just been handed a million dollars.
(15.10.2011) Today Bonnie, our Alsatian who is 11, is dying and she is prostate under the steps, dignified, wise. Yvette lies with her as I did, in the grass, seeing Bonnie graceful in dying as she was in life. I stroked her and tried to tempt her with treats but she doesn't drink, nor eat, she's shutting down, our lovely loyal defender.
She's saved our lives so many times, attacking intruders, defending with her barking.
We know we can get the vet and he can ease her out, but we want to be with her, stroking her to the last second, telling her how great she was, what a beautiful dog she is, we want these last few hours, to say our sad goodbyes.And take photos, her image, Bonnie Baby, you are so loved. xoxo
Yvette was a pretty, doll like baby, auburn curls at first and then white, a Billy Idol white, ( Her hero). A friend standing next to Bob , both looking at the newborn Yvette, little bow in her curls,
"She's stunning,"
And she was, once picking her up from a nap at a girlfriends, she all rosy cheeked from sleep and when I took her in to the kitchen, the other ladies, gasped, literally.
But she was never a happy baby, she was tiny and didn't thrive on milk, she went downhill, a Mother Care Nurse, saying to me,
"She's not gaining weight, she's going backwards"
I said, she ate, but often perked it straight back up. But she was sleeping and was quiet, not screaming the house down. I never forget what she said, this woman, who had no babies,
"She's probably malnourished and just lying there"
I loaded up my 2 babies, Debbie on a seat at the front of the big London Carriage Pram and Yvette in the main body part and I walked home, so angry and I never went back, ever
She was a skinny baby, like a skun rabbit, Bob said, Lauren was the same. But Yvette was tiny, little arms flailing and we called her the little stick insect, and Debbie called her Gick for ages. But she was adorable as well, laughing, crying and after a while she started throwing her bottle out of the cot, full, at about 9 months and she went on solids and began to thrive.
She was rebel to Debbie's placidity. But as the photo shows Deb liked to look after her little sister and even at 17 months was feeding her sister water. Yvette was a terrible picky eater, and I had been the same as a child. She would arrive at the table in the morning, head down, sullen and I would try and ask her which cereal she wanted, and it would always turn into a battle of wills.
" Cornflakes??"
Yvette shook her head.
"Weetbix?"
Another shake of the head
This could go on and on and in the end I would try and hug her and tickle, trying to get her out of her mood. I still do this, but I don't tickle her, just cheer her up.Ignoring her till she has had her "Coffee", Coke, as she is always cranky, until her blood pressure starts to rise and then she's all smiles.
She was always fat obsessed, pleading me to tighten her belts, shoes,
and one time we were getting ready to go to the farm. Bob's idea of helping me get 4 kids ready, honk on the horn and sit in the car.
And she asked me to tighten the buckle on her shoes one last hole, the other little girls all dressed and sitting quietly. And it was a battle of wills the buckle not tight enough, Bob honking on the horn and we were running late and Yvette had no other "Good shoes"
So the buckle snapped and I grabbed the shoe and threw it and it sailed through the frosted glass door, shattering it,... that was not a fun day in the house that day. I think we ended up not going to the farm. I never showed temper before and this was rage.Red, blinding rage, that I had no idea I posessed. He didn't speak to me for a week of course, as ever, but for that moment when I threw that bloody shoe I was throwing at his head. And it was quite satisfying in a way, it felt good. And he hadn't hit me for it.
To be Continued
She's feisty and strong, sucking up heartbreak like a vaccuum cleaner and her advice is good, practical and down to earth, she swears like a trooper, calling a spade a shovel and adoring of her "babies"
I saw her once unseen as she held up her 6th boy and the look on her face was like she had just been handed a million dollars.
(15.10.2011) Today Bonnie, our Alsatian who is 11, is dying and she is prostate under the steps, dignified, wise. Yvette lies with her as I did, in the grass, seeing Bonnie graceful in dying as she was in life. I stroked her and tried to tempt her with treats but she doesn't drink, nor eat, she's shutting down, our lovely loyal defender.
She's saved our lives so many times, attacking intruders, defending with her barking.
We know we can get the vet and he can ease her out, but we want to be with her, stroking her to the last second, telling her how great she was, what a beautiful dog she is, we want these last few hours, to say our sad goodbyes.And take photos, her image, Bonnie Baby, you are so loved. xoxo
Yvette was a pretty, doll like baby, auburn curls at first and then white, a Billy Idol white, ( Her hero). A friend standing next to Bob , both looking at the newborn Yvette, little bow in her curls,
"She's stunning,"
And she was, once picking her up from a nap at a girlfriends, she all rosy cheeked from sleep and when I took her in to the kitchen, the other ladies, gasped, literally.
But she was never a happy baby, she was tiny and didn't thrive on milk, she went downhill, a Mother Care Nurse, saying to me,
"She's not gaining weight, she's going backwards"
I said, she ate, but often perked it straight back up. But she was sleeping and was quiet, not screaming the house down. I never forget what she said, this woman, who had no babies,
"She's probably malnourished and just lying there"
I loaded up my 2 babies, Debbie on a seat at the front of the big London Carriage Pram and Yvette in the main body part and I walked home, so angry and I never went back, ever
She was a skinny baby, like a skun rabbit, Bob said, Lauren was the same. But Yvette was tiny, little arms flailing and we called her the little stick insect, and Debbie called her Gick for ages. But she was adorable as well, laughing, crying and after a while she started throwing her bottle out of the cot, full, at about 9 months and she went on solids and began to thrive.
She was rebel to Debbie's placidity. But as the photo shows Deb liked to look after her little sister and even at 17 months was feeding her sister water. Yvette was a terrible picky eater, and I had been the same as a child. She would arrive at the table in the morning, head down, sullen and I would try and ask her which cereal she wanted, and it would always turn into a battle of wills.
" Cornflakes??"
Yvette shook her head.
"Weetbix?"
Another shake of the head
This could go on and on and in the end I would try and hug her and tickle, trying to get her out of her mood. I still do this, but I don't tickle her, just cheer her up.Ignoring her till she has had her "Coffee", Coke, as she is always cranky, until her blood pressure starts to rise and then she's all smiles.
She was always fat obsessed, pleading me to tighten her belts, shoes,
and one time we were getting ready to go to the farm. Bob's idea of helping me get 4 kids ready, honk on the horn and sit in the car.
And she asked me to tighten the buckle on her shoes one last hole, the other little girls all dressed and sitting quietly. And it was a battle of wills the buckle not tight enough, Bob honking on the horn and we were running late and Yvette had no other "Good shoes"
So the buckle snapped and I grabbed the shoe and threw it and it sailed through the frosted glass door, shattering it,... that was not a fun day in the house that day. I think we ended up not going to the farm. I never showed temper before and this was rage.Red, blinding rage, that I had no idea I posessed. He didn't speak to me for a week of course, as ever, but for that moment when I threw that bloody shoe I was throwing at his head. And it was quite satisfying in a way, it felt good. And he hadn't hit me for it.
To be Continued
