May 26th Thursday. Hazel looked in this morning. Ray gave Barny and Basty a bath.
Barny and Basty (Sebastien) were Rosemary’s two chihuahuas at that time.
May 26th Thursday. Hazel looked in this morning. Ray gave Barny and Basty a bath.
Barny and Basty (Sebastien) were Rosemary’s two chihuahuas at that time.
April 17th, Sunday. Ray has put in an enormous day’s work in the garden aided and abetted by Sheila. Barny not terribly well.
© Anthony Lawton 2012
Barny was one of Rosemary Sutcliff’s two chihuahuas. (The other was Sophie).
April 7th, Thursday. Ray doing the lawn with combined weedkiller and fertiliser, so the dogs won’t be able to go out on it for two days, which will be hell for all of us. Geraldine looked in for tea. My head so muzzy I simply don’t know what to do with it.
© Anthony Lawton 2012
Thinking of both historical fiction and dogs put Katherine Langrish, author of fantasy novels for young adults, in mind of Rosemary Sutcliff. Katherine believes that dogs in books are a “Good Thing”. She also believes that Rosemary Sutcliff “must easily win the title of Britain’s most loved writer of junior historical fiction”.
… Rosemary Sutcliff, whose books I devoured as a child … loved dogs, and there is a noble dog in many of her books: Whitethroat in Warrior Scarlet, Argos in Brother Dusty Feet. But for me the most iconic is Dog in Dawn Wind, the young war-hound that the boy Owain finds by moonlight on the ruins of the battlefield:
…it was something alive in the cold echoing emptiness of a dead world. It stood with one paw raised, looking at him, and Owain called, hoarsely, with stiff lips and aching throat: ‘Dog! Hai! Dog!’ … [It] came, slowly and uncertainly… once it stopped altogether; then it finished at the run and next instant was trembling against his legs. He was a young dog; the beautiful creamy hair of his breast-patch was stained and draggled, and his muzzle bloody in the moonlight… ‘Dog, aiee, dog, we are alone then. There’s no one else. We will go together, you and I.’
The brilliance of the writing is to show us, in the lonely and innocent terror of the dog and what he has been made to do, the full dreadfulness of war.
Like Rosemary Sutcliff, E B White loved his dogs! At the intriguing Letters of Note website, is a wonderful letter of his, in response to their complaint that he was harbouring an unlicensed dog. It starts:
I have your letter, undated, saying that I am harboring an unlicensed dog in violation of the law. If by “harboring” you mean getting up two or three times every night to pull Minnie’s blanket up over her, I am harboring a dog all right. The blanket keeps slipping off. I suppose you are wondering by now why I don’t get her a sweater instead.
It continues at: Letters of Note: She doesn’t answer the phone.