Paddy

He is a shining coat of sleek black fur. He is a hearty appetite and a loving companion. He spends his evenings lying in front of the fire and his nights on the sofa when everyone has gone to bed and he thinks we don't know he is there. Everything in our house belongs to him and he is always keen to explore with his mouth. Logs are regularly pulled out of the wood basket and chewed, with little telltale remains left lying on the carpet. If the kitchen door opens he springs to his feet to find out what tasty morsels might be up for grabs. Should any stranger have the gall to venture up our drive he is there at the window barking at the top of his holler, daring them to come a step closer. 

Paddy has been with us since the end of July. He trotted into our kitchen as a trim little nine week old puppy. Mother Tilly is half black Labrador and half Border Collie; Dad Buddy is all black Labrador and we were besotted at first sight. Couldn't say no to him. We had a week away in Wales at the beginning of the summer holiday and collected him from Raughton Farm as soon as we got back. Those first few days were all puddles and cuddles as he got to know his way round our house and all its two-legged occupants. We soon understood how long he could go between pees and managed to avoid the accidents until he was pretty much fully house trained by the time school started again in September. It seemed we had to wait an eternity before we could walk him, as we needed to wIt until the middle of August when he had had his vaccinations and waited the required period. Finally we were able to take him on a walk. But what was this? Only ten minutes? The Kennel Club recommends five minutes per month of age for the first year. This means a three month old puppy can have a fifteen minute walk and a seven month old can go out for thirty-five minutes at a time. I was so keen in August that it was very difficult to limit the walks to ten minutes. 

Now that he is nearly eight months old he has two walks of almost two miles each per day. I wake at six thirty and by six fifty we are outside in all weathers. The quality of darkness varies so much at that time of day; on a rain sodden morning the darkness covers everything and there is no glimmer of light to help us find our way. Other days the sunrise in the east lets us pick out the silhouettes of buildings and trees and the sky is delicately streaked with greys and pinks and yellows. We walk together to Orchard Cottage, Paddy biting at the lead and stopping to examine any new smells along the way. Despite the early hour we meet several vehicles on the main road, their bright headlights announcing them before they reach the corner. Once we reach Orchard Cottage we set off down the quiet back lane and I let him off the lead. He stays for a moment and then hurries off to look at sheep or roll in fox dung or see if he can get through the gap in the fence. The same gap he tried yesterday and the day before and the day before that. I keep him in sight and whistle him if I can't find him. In the beam of my torch his eyes shine back like jewels dancing in the distance. Every so often I call him to me to get a treat and then he hastens away again. 

This week he brought me a fish from the river. I had read that Labradors can be trained to retrieve fish from the sea. He is a very keen swimmer and is not daunted by the cold waters of the Caldew in the depths of a Cumbrian winter. He loves to go after sticks in the river and drop them at the waters edge. If there are no sticks he enjoys chasing the water and having a good bark at it. Most mornings we will walk near the river and he usually has a short dip. While we were walking along the mill stream the other morning he disappeared under a small stone bridge for a few minutes. I stood calling and whistling, wondering where he could be, when he suddenly emerged from the water. I offered him a treat and he dropped a silvery fish at my feet. About ten inches long, it landed with a resounding slap on the ground.

Cookery Lessons

As I sat down to write this evening Sam came into the kitchen asking if he could cook something. This is a belated Christmas present for me. It's my own fault - I encouraged him to do something like this. So peanut chocolate brownies are on the menu. I keep jumping up to show him where things are and I'm having to think quite hard about where everything is because Steve and I have rearranged our kitchen today.

So far he has weighed out peanuts and chocolate and greased and lined a baking tin. The peanuts are meant to be sieved. He is rather disappointed by this because he likes the salty taste. At the same time he is melting chocolate in a bowl over boiling water and stirring away. The pieces of chocolate are huge, but they are softening very happily. He likes pottering around in the kitchen and chatting to me while he works. He has just told me that he really enjoys writing. His main pieces of work last term were around Of Mice and Men and a visit to a restaurant.

There is a delicious smell of melted chocolate in the kitchen. We are really pleased with the changes we have made In here. We kept bumping into each other the way we had the furniture before or finding that you couldn't get to the cupboards because someone was sitting in the way. So this morning we worked together to move two big kitchen units away from the wall. They are now in the middle of the room and form a natural divider between food preparation and dining areas. It feels a little like we have two new rooms now. There are still a few improvements to make: we are going to cover the unsightly cupboard backs with some tongue and groove pine. It is going to look lovely. I am going to get a Dulux paint chart tomorrow and find a shade of green paint that matches the green we already have and use it on the cupboards. We brought the cupboards into the new kitchen from the old one when we completed our extension, and they really do need a facelift.

He is creaming the butter and sugar together. It really appeals to his senses. And now the eggs are going in, little by little. A sweet smell of butteriness is wafting its way towards me. The eggs are going in really well. No curdling for Sam. I have an absolutely brilliant black microwave bowl. I use it to mash potatoes and you can make a mean guacamole in it. Last week I made some buns and used the black bowl as a mixing bowl and it was really easy. In goes the sifted flour. He is very patient. He asks lots of questions but takes his time to sift properly and to mix in all the mixture, even the bits that have stuck to the back of the spoon. Cocoa powder, melted chocolate and peanuts are the last things to go into the mixing bowl. Now he's enjoying all the colours and textures of the sticky dough. He looks like a master plasterer at work.

The brownies are in the oven now and he is wiping down the work surface. There is not much washing up to do, so we are going to leave it for the morning. The cooking time is 35 minutes, and there are still more than 30 minutes to go! Now I'm the one asking questions. Have you put the cutlery away? Why is the greaseproof paper still out? He is keen to please and happy at his work, humming away while he closes the drawer and ratches around for more Doritos. His textiles teacher is very fond of him. She appreciates his' patience and the way he is totally absorbed in his work. He made a batik cushion and a pencil case last term. They used sewing machines and put in a zip. Next term he is doing woodwork instead of textiles. They haven't been told what they are making yet, but have gone through safely handling power tools like drills and coping saws.

24 minutes to go until we are allowed to look at the soft, chewy, nutty chocolate brownies. We are hoping that they have risen perfectly and there is a well rounded crust and are coming away from the edges of the tin. Meanwhile the aromas are intensifying and the boy with the Doritos has disappeared.