WordSmith: Forever in Rosie’s corner
I met her on my first day back in Cavan six years ago; I’d returned after a lifetime in London. The day was flawless, Cavan looked resplendent under a clear blue sky. As I approached town, I paused at the Elm Bank corner to take in the enormity of change. I realised I had to re-establish a relationship with a place I’d left in my youth; we’d both grown and changed so much, I wondered if we could find the love to live together again.
It was during this rumination I looked up, and saw her. She stood in front of me, her stance stoic, “Hello you,” I said. She lifted her head, her nose twitching in frenzied, forensic assessment of me, “Who the feck’s this fella? I’ve never smelt the likes of him before, he’s not from my place; if he comes any closer I’ll be showing him me teeth!”
Sensing her guard, I stepped back onto the pavement. She turned to watch me pass. When I was a good distance, she skipped away to meet her familiar friends.
That evening, there she was in the same spot, still appraising me. In the ensuing days we established a tentative relationship. But it was a few weeks before I earned Rosie’s trust; I recall fondly the summer’s morning she rolled over for the first of many belly-rubs.
Rosie was a free spirited rambler. One afternoon I saw her sitting outside Aldi, keeping another dog company, “What’re you doing here?” I asked. The other dog’s human exited and answered for her, “She came for the walk with us.” One evening while lighting a candle in the Cathedral, I looked round to see Rosie sitting by a pew. I joined her, and we sat together in reverential silence.
Like all friendships, we had a fall-out; which was entirely my fault. I have this thing about spraying cologne on my wrists at the end of the day. There’s a budget brand that copies expensive colognes, they’re known as ‘Dupes’ in the fragrance world. I bought one called ‘Savage’ a dupe of ‘Dior’s Sauvage’ and had a liberal spray before heading for home. As per usual, Rosie was waiting for a treat and belly-rub. As I lowered my hand, her nose erupted into a ferocious fit of sneezing.
“Ahh you’ve got the snuffles,” I said, as she scurried from me, sneezing all the way.
The following evening I doused myself again. Rosie was at her usual spot, but as I neared, her nose shot up, she turned on her heels and fled, “He stinks of that cheap Savage sh**e that has me sneezing like a dog; I’ll not go near him when he’s drenched in that stuff!”
I never wore Savage again and our friendship resumed.
Rosie liked to hang out with the boys: Bobby, Rocky, Milo, and Ginger the cat, were her best buddies. She’d often join them on walks with their humans. Milo would try to play, but no, Rosie liked to walk and talk rather than rough and tumble and she made sure Milo knew that.
Now, there was some doggy-discord; I heard tell of a feud between Rosie and Duke. We’re not sure who the guilty party was, but we do know a bone was buried and Rosie and Duke’s former friendship cooled, thereafter.
Then, in the autumn of her life on a sunny autumn day, Rosie was killed as she crossed the road. Her free spirit soared over the rainbow bridge by her beloved Cavan Cathedral.
Rosie had become my ‘good-morning’ and ‘good-evening'. But more so, she reintroduced me to something long missing from my London life – community. Through her, and her feline friend Ginger, I got to know people and place; I found myself beginning to reassimilate into the life of my old town. This little dog literally walked me back home.
I miss her dearly. As do many more, “I miss the jingle-jangle of her ID Medal in the morning,” said the busy young mother who is part of Rosie’s-corner-community. “Rocky misses her a terror,” said Rocky’s human. “There’ll never be another Rosie,” lamented another friend.
Rosie’s humans will be mourning her loss. But I hope they take comfort in how much she was loved. And, her presence will always be felt on what will for me, forever be – Rosie’s corner.
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