On arriving one of the volunteers asked if we'd come to play with the kittens and never being one to let something fluffy go by unpetted we said yes. First she had to make sure that none of them got out so we had to go into a short corridor, shut the door behind us, open another door into the first of the kitten rooms. When I went in a ginger and white kitten marched up to me and put it's little forehead to my forehead while putting its paw on my left cheek. However his name was "Nutbar" which didn't bode well. The volunteer read out the names of all the kitties including "Ivan" who was named after a vet. Rose asked her if Nutbar had been named after a vet as well...
We spent a good ten minutes playing with the kittens who were having a good attempt at eviscerating my hands. We then went through the same rigmarole of getting into a small corridor and having two doors shut before we frolicked with the next room of black and tabby kittens. All kittens are cute but sometimes none "speak" to you. We were just about to leave the SPCA when the volunteer said there was one room left but it was full of older kittens. We entered to see several black young cats careering around so we stayed in there for five minutes before we had to leave for another appointment. Just as we were going out of the room Rose said "Oh look at this one" and reaching up to a high shelf pulled a small black tortoiseshell female cat down. She was an older kitten with a patch of white fur at her neck and white paws with patches of ginger amongst the black. Purring like an engine she rubbed our hands and rolled over which is when I fell for her hook line and sinker.
The volunteer came back into the room and told me the kitten was named "Flossie" and had been with them three months as no one wanted her due to her colour. All this time Rose was saying "You'd be doing a good thing" but I didn't need any encouragement and told the volunteer that I would collect her in a week.
That same day I received an email from someone who had seen my advert in the "Pawprint" (magazine of the Central Shetland Sheepdog Club) asking for an older Sheltie to rehome. She had a six year old male Sheltie called Beaucourt Outta My Dreams aka "Joey" who had just retired from the show ring as a champion. They had four other dogs and he was near the bottom of the pack and she felt that he would benefit from one on one attention from someone who was home most of the time. When I replied to her it turned out that she only lived 45 minutes away from me in Hastings.
Over the week we exchanged emails about Joey as she enquired about my situation, fencing, the other animals I had. I in turn wanted to make sure that he liked cats, was a quiet dog and wouldn't mind a more sedate lifestyle. Then we made arrangements for the owners and Joey to visit that following Saturday (18th July).
It was a cold rainy day when Joey arrived in a blue four wheel drive with his owners. I could see his little fox like face peering out the back window with such a look of Mishka. For the next hour we discussed his likes and dislikes and his routine while Joey wandered around occasionally creeping up to sniff my hand. He seemed a timid dog but it was no wonder when I learned his story.
When he was a six week old puppy his breeder took her 13 dogs including Joey and his siblings to a show in Wellington. On her way home a vehicle forced her van off the road and down a fifty metre bank. In the crash two dogs were killed and the breeder severely injured, ending up in a wheelchair. Many Sheltie owners on hearing this took her dogs into their homes as a temporary measure which is how Joey had many homes in his first two years before arriving to live with his current owners. He showed some behavioural issues including a clingy tendency and a difficulty with the phone, running constantly from room to room when ever someone was speaking on it.
After an hour the owners said they'd leave Joey with me that day. They gave me a small red backpack with his toys, food and little duvet and drove away not knowing that Joey was watching them go. That night he slept on his little duvet next to my bed. For many days he would run repeatedly around the outside of the house although thankfully he never took any interest in the chickens. The cats meanwhile were delighted with the return of a Sheltie back to the house. It took him several days before he began to bark when anyone came to the door which meant that he finally felt at home at last. The only problem I had with Joey was his issues with the telephone but that's another story...
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