Dog Days

Last time, when I was talking of the Sylvanian Olympics and some of our younger Mellowdene athletes, I mentioned Adam Maces as this young mouse has become quite an accomplished runner. It has since occurred to me that we haven't had any dogs taking an interest in this discipline. It struck me as odd because - as I have previously highlighted - we have a number of canine families living in the grasslands bordering the village and one reason they live there is because many of them enjoy running around in joyous abandon.

 

Recently I was at the dock snack bar playing a game of jindick with Owen Seadog (the place has become a popular location for board gamers). As I was wondering about the Olympics and why dogs didn't clamour to be participants I asked him for his take on the situation. He huffed as he considered his reply.

"I've never really thought about it, Jacky," he said. "I suppose it could be because we dogs like the freedom to run where we want to go. Change direction at a whim, enjoy how one's hair ruffles with the movement of air, the feeling of control in your body. No rules. We don't stick to a given path, don't time ourselves, try and break records or be better than our running mates."

"I see how that wouldn't lend itself to competition."

"That could be why," Owen nodded, "though maybe we Seadogs aren't the best to ask. Me and my brothers prefer the freedom of the waterways. A good sea breeze in yer snout. Now Drake has finished his academic work at the nautical college I expect he'll be joining his dad and the rest of us on the Marita May or at the docks."

 

Horatio's son Drake Francis Seadog had been at the college a few years, specialising in engineering as well as a range of other seafaring skills. He had been a live-in student, only spending holidays with his family in Mellowdene.

"My Cornel is interested in the waterside life but hasn't found his niche yet," reflected Owen. "On top of that, I think he doesn't want to offend his aunt and uncle."

After Owen was widowed, it didn't seem fitting that his son should live on a boat or in Dockside Cottage with his dad and uncles Amos and Irwin. It was agreed that Cornel could settle with his maternal aunt's family, the Paperbarks. They had an additional spare room for Owen when he wasn't busy at work - ideal as it ensured father and son could take advantage of that quality time. 

The Paperbarks run a stationers' shop. They craft their own speciality paper, mix inks, and deal with the bulk paper imported by the sea cats and transported to Mellowdene via the canal. Owen knew his sister-in-law's family hoped Cornel would join their business when he decided his career path.

Owen clicked his tongue. "I doubt my boy will take advantage of the Dog Days this year."

Dog Days. Yes, they are about due. And they had cropped up in conversation only a day ago.

o 0 O 0 o

My surrogate nephew, Orton Butterglove popped his head around the door to my living room.

 

"Are you free, Uncle Jack?" he said. "I've got some pals who'd like to see you."

 

I was curious so agreed. He opened the door more widely allowing three young dogs to traipse through before closing the door behind them.

.

There was Tam Tailbury, Fergus Hunter-Smyth and Kimball Bayer.

"Hello boys," I said. "How can I help?"

Orton opened his mouth to speak but Tam beat him to it, stepping forward to act as their unelected leader.

 

"It's about the Dog Days, Mr Butterglove."

Before I go any further I should give you a rough idea about these so called Dog Days. They are yet another canine tradition. It might be local to our region but it was adopted by our community long before I was born. They tend to be in the warmer summer months and they are occasions when a pup decides how they want to spend their life as a dog. It isn't age specific. Unlike most of the grassland dogs the Seadog family tend reject the majority of these traditions - especially in Horatio's case. His son Drake Seadog wanted to tinker with boats from an early age and that led him to attend nautical college. He didn't wait for a Dog Day.

Exactly how I could help with the three pups in my living room remained to be seen. I didn't have long to wait.

"Orton told us that you weren't always a songwriter," Tam explained. "That you used to work for the Henry-Lloyds doing office work."

"That's right," I said, wondering where this was going. "Henry-Lloyd Construction.  Do you want to know about what I did there?"

"Not really, Mr Butterglove," said Tam. That was telling me!

Fergus joined Tam. "It's just that you changed your job. We want to know if it was hard changing. If we say what job we want to do as part of a Dog Day we're worried what would happen if we changed our minds."

"Be stuck doing the wrong job," said Tam.

"I think my uncle Hubert would like me to join the Huckleberry family business," said Kimball,  "but I don't know if I want to. Yet."

"I think it relates to apprenticeships," said Orton trying to explain. "I think Tam and the others are worried that they'd have to stick with whatever job they chose on their Dog Day even if they changed their mind."

"I don't know what I want to be," said Tam, "so I don't really think I should choose yet."

Fergus looked at me. "I know lots of pups follow the family business but my mum and dad are singers. I couldn't follow in their pawprints as I can't sing for toffee." 

"It's true," said Tam. "Fergus is excused whenever we have howl choruses. He puts others off. Even Cornel. Mister Farthing lets him clap instead."

Fergus's parents - Nelson and Jeanette Hunter-Smyth - sing old standards and light operetta, sometimes touring northeast Sylvania. Whereas their daughter Rose-Marie shows signs of following in their pawprints, Fergus tends towards more rough-and-tumble activities.

 

The couple now have a regular slot at the Bear Pit Club on Wednesday nights. Finley Osborne says it is proving popular. If Fergus's voice was as bad as he claimed, he could rule out singing like his parents thereby reducing his Dog Day options.

The three pups waited expectantly, clearly hoping I had some obvious solution. I didn't. I wasn't sure how strong expectations were regarding Dog Day decisions. I didn't know if my answer was going to be of any use nor did I want to go against canine traditions. Yet whilst prevarication and procrastination aren't ideal, analytical postponement might help. 

"Do you have hobbies to help guide you?" I asked.

"I like making models," said Tam.

"Right," I said, rapidly thinking of assorted creative jobs. "Then maybe you should check out all the Mellowdene craftcritters. Like Durwood Chestnut. He works with wood. Rolf Billabong works with clay. There must be plenty you can investigate."

Tam slowly nodded. "Maybe. I'd have to do it properly though. Too much to investigate in time for this year's Dog Days."

Orton patted his friend's back. "There's no rush, especially with the Pause delaying ageing. Best to get it right."

Tam brightened. "Yes. I'm going to stay a pup as long as it takes. There will be loads of Dog Days to come."

"I could come with you, Tam," said Kimball. "I don't do models but it might be fun looking at what people do. Learning stuff. Maybe Miss Wildwood would let us off school early for the researching."

"I doubt it," said Orton. "Besides, you might miss something useful in class."

"Then it would be her fault if I stayed a pup for years," said Kimball, "taking so so long before I saw a job I might like."

"Do you really think we could blame Miss Wildwood for delaying our Dog Day choices?" laughed Tam.

I had to say something. "Do you really think your parents would fall for that? "

The three pups giggled. Even Orton's mouth twitched with barely hidden humour.  

"I think we're all going to put off Dog Day." said Fergus, decision made. "What about you, Orton? What would you do if you were a dog?"

"What - for Dog Day do you mean?"

"Yep."

"Well I like learning about the rare animals that my Mamma and Dadda keep safe..." - he paused, looking at me - "...but Pappamerle's library has got lots of reference books about them and a lot more."

It was touching how Orton wanted to balance his love for his parents and his foster parents.

"You want to be a librarian?" Fergus prompted.

"Erm... I think I'll be a pup too."

o 0 O 0 o

 

Owen Seadog was staring at me. "Daydreaming, Jacky boy?"

I smiled. "Thinking about Dog Days and something I heard from one of a few pups yesterday. I was given the impression that Cornel was one of the better singers in your howl choruses."

"Aye, he likes to sing. Pretty good at it too, though I might be biased as his dad. Why?"

"Does he like sea songs?"

"He likes most songs. What are you thinking?"

"You were wondering about him feeling a conflict with his Seadog heritage should he start to work with his aunt and uncle, a possibility given he hasn't found a nautical role yet. Who do you currently have doing your sea songs?"

"Family-wise Irwin does a bit, but young Oscar Marmalade has a couple of songs when we have to haul ropes at a steady rhythm. Are you thinking, Cornel...?"

"If you think he might be interested, I have a contact with the Purrchester Shantymen."

 

(Bing McClaw of the Purrchester Shantymen*)

 

Owen burst out laughing.

"What?" I said, "They are very good."

"It's not that," Owen chuckled. "It's the thought of Cicely Paperbark - Cicely Growling as was - and her reaction. She was surprised when her sister chose to marry me. What would she think if she heard her nephew sing, 'Drunken Dogs on a Sailing Boat' at the top of his voice? She might faint."

 

"In a dog daze?"

"Ha!" 

o 0 O 0 o

* Bing McClaw and the Purrchester Shantymen are the creations of my Sylvanian Collectors' Forum friend Florence Holiday. My thanks to her for the well-crafted shantyman clothing she gifted to me.

 

The Olympians

Tara Lapine-Frost is a remarkable bunny. Since her accident in the snow fields of the Atlandian mountains - incredibly two and a half years ago - her initial enforced recuperation led to regular social interactions between not only the family of Nigel Snow-Warren (her romantic partner) but also with us. Cecile helped bring her out of herself and we gradually learned more of her past.

 

We now consider her a good friend and I believe the feeling is mutual. When I think back to our early meetings I remember I was actually a little scared of her! I get the feeling that, with the secretive aspects of her job, she was wary of making new friends. Now, she has a group of people with whom she can relax. People separate to her work.

A recent chat revealed some more interesting information.

"No, I've completely recovered. I learned from that accident that I'd been stupidly careless and I was angry with myself. Rather on dwell on the negative I decided to restart my training with the Mist Cats. I needed a refresher. Years ago, before I went out into the human world I underwent long and intensive training with them."

We hadn't heard this tale before so we asked for details.

"It wasn't just going there to forage for plants and minerals," Tara replied. "I'd been a handful of times under the supervision of the Mist Cats but I found it a little restrictive. This must have prompted them to look at me more closely and they must have seen some potential in me, leading to the training. I had to avoid complacency and be capable of taking care of myself both mentally and physically. Anyway, in time they made me an associate of the tribe and they told me that they were confident in my abilities, that they believed I could venture there alone. That was quite an honour."

"What sort of training did you have?" asked Cecile. 

"Climbing, endurance, concealment, self-defence. That sort of thing. Felixor was one of my trainers."

 

She described how Felixor worked, how they progressed from working in the gym, moving onto survivalist training on the small outer Sylvanian islands before venturing into the human world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You make Felixor sound like a super Sylvanian," laughed Cecile.

 

"He is very capable, as are most of the Mist Cats. Actually, Felixor was an Olympian."

"As in the Olympics?" I said.

"Yes. I'm not sure which sport. I think it was multi-discipline."

"Now that is interesting."

Cecile agreed. "I've always wondered where the word came from. What does Olympics actually mean?"

"Oh, it's a human word; no idea what it means. Just what it represents. It's yet another of those human traditions that we seem to have acquired and adapted in our own Sylvanian way. Like Christmas and Halloween."

"Is their Olympics like ours?"

"I think many of the sports are, but the organisation will be different. The humans are split into different groups called nations. Each nation finds their best sports people and they come together to compete against each other. We don't have nations as such. Atlandia, the Isle of Rut, where we live, other islands - we're all considered Sylvanian, so we handle the sports differently."

From Merlin's books on the "History of Man" I was aware of the nation thing. As Tara provided more details I was glad our Olympics were different. Ours has different challenges. I suppose I should explain.

o 0 O 0 o

The main Sylvanian Olympic event is held in central Sylvania and athletes come from villages throughout the land to participate. However, the number of spectators tend to be limited. This is because of the distances involved and the comparatively low capacity for transport. 

 

Being in the northeast of Sylvania, Mellowdene is one of those villages affected. A handful of sports fans will trek to the Olympic village but it is impractical for most. We have to follow the sports remotely. The Mellowdene Examiner publishes a supplement containing official colour photographs organised and provided by the Olympic Committee, plus a log of the results. There are a few television sets in the village (but not further afield in the county) that potentially allow some high profile events to be seen. However, the main sources of information are the scheduled radio broadcasts. They don't always report on events as they happen but they tend to be quite comprehensive.

With this limited coverage of the main Olympic competition some villages organise their own sporting events for locals to participate. Mellowdene hasn't had a great take up by residents but that may change. This is due to a particular cat who works with the schools. Ken Golightly was a past Olympian too.

[As an aside, it's worth commenting on Sylvanian cats. Anatomically they can be quite - bendy - and are naturally agile. From what Tara says, the Mist Cats are prime examples. They go into the Land of Men and are like shadows as they do whatever they do there. It isn't as surprising as it could be that both Felixor and Ken Golightly were Olympians.]

 

This year is special. Ken Golightly has been training some young Mellowdenians and they have qualified to enter the youth Olympics. All three of Josef Darwin's children are sporty and Judy Darwin in particular is quite the talented gymnast, Adam Maces is a speedy runner and Jocelyn Springer is skilled in both long jump and high jump.

 

There is some excitement about these three youngsters but there was also some regret that more people would not be able to watch them in their sporting activities. One couldn’t rely on television coverage. Even if there were enough televisions there is no guarantee that their activities would be filmed.

Although there is a rumour that a solution has been found.

o 0 O 0 o

 

There is a small theatre in Mellowdene. It was set up by Grayson Newcastle - the brother of Deborah Pookie - and it is a wonderful addition to the village as he uses it primarily to show movies. These are shipped in from a contact in Calico New City. Because the floorspace is limited, not many crittizens can assemble to watch the scheduled movie. This is not a problem as there will be multiple showings, Grayson having the Mellowdene Examiner publicise forthcoming treats. Small parties can book to watch a given show.

What has this to do with the Olympics, you may ask? It was another of Grayson's ideas, piloted for the first time this year. He engaged a film cameraman to attend the Olympics and ensure that the efforts of our sporting young Mellowdenians would  be captured for posterity.

Our villagers would be able to see Judy Darwin...

...Adam Maces...

...and Jocelyn Springer. 

 

 

 

So far, the theatre slots have been booked solid. The interest in our youngsters Olympic efforts is unprecedented. There is talk of booking either the village hall or the chapel meeting room and setting up a screen there.

I wonder how many people would be curious to see Tara Lapine-Frost's training? 

o 0 O 0 o