'Reprise' -JUDO

Judo

This is a piece that I wrote while doing a creative writing course with the Open University eighteen months ago. Life has moved on since then with Flyn being the only survivor out of the five dogs mentioned in this tale. This is a true tale and a true reflection of the characters and personalities of our family that are now just a beautiful memory. Why put this on here now? Because at last I am ready to move on, I can look back and remember with joy as well as with sadness,-not just because of the passage of time, but also because of those who have helped us look towards a future that at one time we didn't think we would ever be able to countenance. The enduring and ever faithful and loving Flyn; the endearing and challenging Pepper and the exhuberant unplanned for and unexpected baby of the family -Holly. This is an ending and a begining...and..a reprise.
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I sat and stared at the sign in front of me. BEACH PARKING.That was new, as was the parking area. The JCBs had been at work, levelling the rabbit warrens and the pot holes; creating order and respectability where there had been wilderness. It had been a while. Last time, we were seven, now, we were five. There were so many memories here and, I wasn't sure that I was ready to face any of them.

   I got out of the car; perhaps it was time to follow the old familiar route; to put to rest the pain and the grief, and the tears that continued to well up as I remembered wee Jess bouncing along like a demented rabbit, and Judo with his barely restrained excitement as he scented the sea, running on and looking back...running on and looking back...

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We waded through the streams and the glutinous mud of the salt marsh, listening to the plaintive cries of the oyster catchers as they vented their annoyance on five mad dogs intent on their race to the distant beach. Judo led the charge as usual; always the water baby; a reincarnated otter who at twelve years old, had still not come to terms with his rebirth as a Border Collie. Ghillie, the baby of the bunch, the cuckoo in the nest, - gundog not collie, was hot on his heels, ears flying in the wind as he eagerly followed his hero and his idol. Even Jig, the couch potato, and Flyn - whose idols walked on two legs- not four, were caught up in the excitement of the chase while Jess, clearly feeling her fourteen years, valiantly bounced along bringing up the rear.

We rached the far edge of the salt marsh and struggled through the soft sand which had been scoured from the surface of the wet beach by the fierce wind. We were forced backwards, eyes watering as the finer sand blasted our faces, stinging nostrils and skin, a painful reminder of the power of the elements on what was otherwise a warm summers day. Five sets of paw prints were clearly visible in the wet sand, heading off towards the distant sea.

By the time we caught up with them, Judo was swimming strongly well beyond the gently breaking waves, only his dark head and distinctive white blaze visible as he moved effortlessly through the water. Ghillie, deciding that he hadn't yet achieved this canine  standard of Olympic excellence, kept pace beside him in the shallows, while Jig stood barking mindlessly at both of them. Flyn meanwhile had had enough of canine independence and trotted close beside an exasperated Frank who sported an increasingly wet trouser leg. Totally oblivious to all these masculine goings-on, Jess had found the perfect piece of driftwood. Sculpted smooth by the ebb and flow of the sea, it lay at my feet where she had thrown it. She stood motionless, staring at it intently, willing it to my hand, willing me to throw it so that we could begin the whole process over again. Unfortunately, she had waited too long; Judo arrived, seawater streaming from his black fur which he proceeded to shake all over us before scooping up the driftwood and taking off along the beach with the others in hot pursuit.

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As I followed Frank along the path that led to the salt marsh, other memories crowded to the forefront of my mind. I remembered other winter days like this when the waves built and crashed against the shore in a mass of white surf, depositing clumps of brown flecked foam that dissipated in the wind. Judo was always there, fearless, carried in on a rising wave, riding the surf as the waves lost their momentum and broke against the shore.

I shivered; there was no warmth today in the sickly winter sun. No Jess, no Judo, just three dogs running along the tide line examining the detritus left by the last high tide. They had no interest in the crashing surf and the driftwood lay where the sea had chosen to deposit it. I thought how different their personalities were and, in that instant realised that that was why each one was so special and unique in their own way. We would never forget Jess or Judo because they had each given us something so individual that their memories would live with us forever. This was their eternal gift to us.

A movement caught my eyes, a black arrow outlined against the brilliant white of the foaming surf. For a moment, I saw Judo swimming in the troughs between the waves, and then, a cormorant rose flying strongly into the wind as it headed north. 
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