The times I have shared with Liquorice of an early morning, before the family rises, have meant a great deal to me. It is when I quietly sit in my father’s chair in the breezeway and give my little girl a nurse (not suckle <vbg>) in the breezeway of our home. She has nearly out-grown, literally, this mutually satisfying pastime. Liquorice may first choose to do what a young lady should do when first allowed outside of a morning, but frequently Liquorice is happy for me to scoop her up, not an easy thing to do now with a puppy nearly five months old. This is my preference as my fussy girl is inclined to get rather damp while finding the “deserving” spot on the dew covered grass to favor with her patronage. With my right ankle on my left knee I cradle my “little” darling and, as always, she relaxes immediately. Her back legs dangle over my left thigh and front legs hang limply over her chest. My upper right arm and chest supports her back and shoulders, leaving my loose right hand well positioned for gentle tummy-rubs. My left hand is available for chest-rubs, throat tickles and ear massages. Liquorice first licks my right ear, then she used to “mouth” it with her needle-sharp teeth, which elicited a sharp “No”. Her new teeth are much more “ear friendly”. She then drapes her head and neck over my shoulder.
The distant rumble of a semi-trailer drifts to us from the main road some two miles or so away, as the crow flies or about 20 miles by car! I point out the Wood Ducks, silently and steadily grazing their way across the lawn, while I gently scratch under Liquorice’s chin. There are always numerous small groups of ducks across our few acres constantly grazing in the paddocks, or swimming in the dams. I tell Liquorice, yet again, of the relationship Nanny had with the ducks and how proud I was of Nanny that they accepted her. Liquorice wriggles and squirms until she can, with difficulty, snuggle her head under my chin. She never seems to tire of hearing me talk of her predecessor.
In due course the Noisy Minors attract Liquorice, as they flutter around their metal dog-dish that contains my little darling’s leftovers from the previous day. At night it is placed on top the wheelie-bin at the end of the garage so the foxes do not steal it. I place it on the back lawn while Liquorice has her morning leak. However today as Liquorice has not yet relieved herself I nurse a dry puppy, on the outside-at least, and so the dish is still on the garbage bin. There are metallic scratching sounds as they land on or peck at the dish. Usually five or six come around. Liquorice likes the Noisy Minors. Later the Magpie, who like me prefers to sleep-in, will arrive and if I have not placed the metal dish on the lawn, he will, as he lands, send it tumbling from the wheelie-bin onto the concrete floor shattering the morning stillness. When this sound wakes me, rather abruptly, I know that I have slept in. For now though the Magpie’s family is caroling in the tall Eucalypts while I gently massage Liquorice’s bare belly. Soon Daddy Magpie will join the Noisy Minors. He has been almost a “pet” for many years but his Missus and their kids do not share his trust of us and only appear when we are not to be seen.
A little while later Liquorice notices a young rabbit, living dangerously, hopping from the veggie garden at the edge of the lawn. Liquorice watches with no particular interest as it goes on its way. I wonder if she realizes that this nurse has cost her a rabbit dinner. She has now had several, but is not with me when I shoot them. Having only sampled them raw, “processed” by her human, I wonder if she recognizes them in the “manufacture’s” original packaging.
I notice some sticky grass seeds stuck to the side of her front paw missed when I groomed her the previous evening. I pull these from her foot, noting that a greater thoroughness is required on my part in future. Grooming Liquorice is no longer the rush or game it once was. These days I give her a strip of beef jerky and she chews on that instead of the brushes or me, while I now take my time with brush duties.
A neighbor’s car is coming up the road. As it travels the sound of its engine changes as it pays homage to the steepness of our hill. I know it to be a neighbor’s car as we live near the end of a series of dead-end streets so the only traffic we have are locals, the odd delivery truck and an occasional “lost sole” looking I vain for an easy way out. The engine’s sound fades away as it enters the cutting in the hill. The breezeway runs east to west, the same as the road, so when the car emerges from the cutting it can be heard again with the sound now coming through the front of the breezeway as the car continues traveling down our street. As Liquorice turns her head to the new direction of the sound she sees that there is a flock of khaki green Grass Parrots picking at the grass on the front lawn matching another flock she had seen out the back. Liquorice follows the path of a Huntsman spider as it nimbly walks up the wall beside us. It has one leg missing. We often see it of a morning.
My left hand steadily creeps up along Liquorice’s chest, between her front legs around her neck and then massages the base of her right ear. A look of total contentment engulfs her face as she pushes her head into my slowly moving fingers while in the distance a neighbor’s cow is becoming agitated as it bellows for its misplaced calf as if saying “Breakfast’s ready, come and get it while it’s warm!”
I see our pumpkins stored in wire trays on a trolley in the breezeway and again pleasant memories of Nanny, our previous Newf, and her pumpkin escapade comes flooding back. But of this I do not tell Liquorice, lest she gets any ideas.
Minutes pass by and my fingers begin to tire when the little black stallion in the paddock at the far end of the old nursery starts whinnying and galloping around his paddock. He is a Welsh Mountain Pony that the folk next door show and breed from. We hear him prancing and putting on a show for the mares in their front paddock or he has spied Amanda coming with his breakfast. Either way he has set their Jack Russell Terriers to barking, but then a leaf falling from a tree will set them off! While these days Liquorice totally ignores their noisy outbursts. The sudden distinctive squeaking sound of Topknot Pigeons taking flight distracts both of us from my ear massaging efforts. To me they always sound like their wings need oiling! We sit, listening, as all God’s other creatures go bustling about their business and I muse on those people who long to live in the so-called “peace and quiet” of a rural setting. Liquorice spies the top of my pen in my shirt pocket. It has always intrigued her and as usual she now tries to bite it with her front teeth. The other day, after a similar session, she had a leak on the back lawn and returned, presenting me with my pen! I had not even noticed her sneak it from my pocket. It reminds me of the tabs on my work boots that I use to pull them on. They too intrigue my little darling. Liquorice will carry one of them by the tab and deposit it on back lawn then chews on it – the tab, not the boot. Her chewing is something I have still to look forward to. You have no idea her excitement as she sees her human hopping about the wet grass, on his one “booted” foot, trying to retrieve his other boot! She gazes at me with those beautiful dark brown eyes of hers and I can tell that Liquorice too is enjoying this moment. I run my hand over the top of her head and the back of her neck. She leans into my hand.
An annoying screech from a White Cockatoo turns Liquorice’s attention to the front once more. She notices a damp towel, hanging from the pullout clothesline in the breezeway, as it sways gently in the slight morning breeze. It arouses playful thoughts in her and she softly swats my face with a front paw. Having had my morning wash I am thankful that she has not yet been on the grass, wet from the overnight dew. Her wet paw’s finishing touch is never really appreciated. So I now pull gently at the loose skin of her throat allowing it to slip slowly through my fingers. Shortly, Liquorice hangs her head over my shoulder once more, this time she is looking at some tiny black ants, as always, diligently going about their business. Liquorice has a continuing fascination with our ant populations. She is still very curious of both sizes of small black ants and the sugar ants. Liquorice no longer attempts to make contact with our large Bull Ants, preferring these days to observe from a distance. I suspect that she has learned that their bite stings!
We enjoy each other’s company this way for thirty to forty minutes. Eventually I roll her forward and ease her to the concrete floor and lay her coat the right way with my hands, whether it is disturbed or not. Liquorice waits until I stand up, possibly hoping for another nurse, then slowly makes her way out to the lawn.
These times when I nurse baby Liquorice are almost over now that my little girl is growing up. Actually she is growing in all directions. We will continue to enjoy the early morning together for many years to come, however she will be reclining by my side rather than on me.
There is something about nursing my young Newfoundland that makes these times extra special.
Arthur Witten
Liquorice – Hey Dad, you seem to be getting littler!