It's my strange 'talk to the dog' voice.
As I think about the day when she is no longer with us.
I realise my 'this' voice will go, along with all the phrases I use.
Looking back, shortly after my mother died just weeks after Aaron was
born, I used to say to myself
'My lovely MUM!'
It somehow, after a traumatic time comforted me.
Always, as Aaron grew up I would put him to bed
with the words
'Night night, God bless, kiss from Grandma!'
Even occasionally now texting he will sign off with
X from Grandma.
Calling Rowan, the goat and the pet lambs off the hill
by the croft I would call...
What? Do you know I've forgotten...
it wasn't so much the words as the voice.
They would reply, and from far off I'd see them gambolling home.
For Tess, on the farm, I had certain sayings,
apart obviously from 'Away and Come by'
The ones to make her go around the cow shed, instead of through...
I've forgotten... and the voice I used... gone.
A cheerful soul... not me I'm afraid
The stupid, silly things I say to Lettice.
Simon used to say in his cut crystal public school voice...
'She's just a dog!'
I can hear him say it now.
I often say to Ted after I've talked some of my standard
utter tosh to Tish.
'I make a fool of this dog don't I?'
Sage old soothsayer that he is, his words soothe.
I wouldn't mind but she's stone deaf.
The awful thing to me is, that all this rubbish I say
to her will die with her.
Now in the quiet of the morning, with her outside,
I can't think of even one of the stupid things I say.
When I start talking to my teddies
that's the time to be afraid, very afraid!