Morning announcements, a travelling slipper and seven very different opinions about how the day should begin.
If you met us in the evening, you might think we were a wonderfully peaceful household. Supper has been devoured, everyone has settled down and the Scotties are snuggled together, either beside me on the sofa or tucked into their own beds. It’s cosy, companionable and really rather lovely.
Come back the following morning and you’ll discover that peace has opening hours.
Nobody is more committed to announcing the start of a new day than Damelza. Out she goes, shouting her head off, apparently delighted to confirm that she is alive, well and ready for whatever the world has to offer. After such a peaceful evening, she clearly feels the silence has gone on quite long enough.
Welcome to life with the Scottie Clan.
The morning procession
To be fair to them, beneath all the enthusiasm there’s a familiar routine, and they’re really good about it. Everyone knows what happens and whose turn it is. Damelza and Amelia go out first, along with Beulah, who, being the baby, has rather more pressing reasons to get into the garden. We’ve only just fully mastered toilet training, so getting her up and out promptly gives us the best chance of beginning the day without an accident.
Damelza and Evangeline are sisters and will be ten on Christmas Eve. Damelza loves everyone in the pack, although she and Evangeline do bicker. Sisters, honestly. Apparently being Scottish Terriers doesn’t exempt them from the occasional difference of opinion.
Amelia is Damelza’s daughter and, at seven, the quietest member of the clan. She loves and plays with everyone, and watching her with her mum is one of those little everyday pleasures I never get tired of. The pair of them waddle round the garden with their noses and tails up, tails wagging, looking thoroughly happy with themselves. They’re comical together.
Then there’s Beulah. At five months old, she brings the sort of enthusiasm to a morning that I can only admire. She bombs around the garden, usually throwing her toy about in a state of complete excitement and happiness. Like the rest of the clan, her recall is already excellent, so there’s no need for leads during our morning garden routine. She can get on with the important business of enjoying herself.
The others follow, each with their own approach to the day. Evangeline likes to have a bit of a shout at the world too, although her enthusiasm for going outside is very much dependent on the weather. She hates the rain. If it’s wet, she’s as quick as possible, then straight back inside to her towel and into her cosy bed. I can’t say I blame her.
Hugo, who’s six, struts his stuff with his nose in the air. He’s a handsome chap and he knows it. Angus, at eight and a half, takes his time. The world can wait for Angus, as far as Angus is concerned, and there’s very little point in suggesting otherwise.
Eliza is a year and a half old and full of beans. She always has to take her slipper outside, where she zips around playing tig with Beulah. Between the slipper, the flying toy, the morning announcements and Angus proceeding at his own pace, there’s usually plenty to watch.
Seven dogs, one familiar routine and seven distinctly different ways of taking part.
Breakfast is not a leisurely affair
Once everyone’s back inside, attention turns to breakfast. For all the excitement in the garden, they sit patiently watching while I prepare their food. It’s a lovely sight, all those little faces waiting.
The patience ends with the preparation.
Once breakfast is served, the whole business is over in about two minutes. You’d think chewing was an unnecessary complication. There’s something quite remarkable about watching food that took time to prepare disappear at that speed, but they certainly leave me in no doubt that they’ve enjoyed it.
And then the day begins.
No two days are quite the same, but long walks are always a must. Along a river, through a forest or out in the hills, getting out together is part of our life. The morning garden procession is only the beginning; there’s a whole day ahead for those seven noses.
That’s one of the things I love about them. They’re all Scotties, all part of the same little clan, but living with them means getting to know seven individual characters. Quiet Amelia and exuberant Eliza. Handsome Hugo and unhurried Angus. The two sisters, with their affection and their bickering, and little Beulah discovering just how much fun there is to be had.
There’s another part of our story that belongs here, because it explains rather a lot about the life we’ve led since leaving the farm. Damelza, Evangeline, Angus, Amelia and Hugo were with us then. When we lost our home, we refused to give up our dogs. Keeping us all together was the main reason we ended up sleeping rough and living in the van.
It was a difficult time, and I won’t pretend otherwise. But they were our family, and giving them up wasn’t something we were prepared to do. I’ve never regretted that decision. Not once.
Eliza and Beulah joined us later, bringing their own personalities, mischief and, in Eliza’s case, a slipper.
And eventually, peace returns
By the time the day is done and supper has been devoured, everyone is ready to settle down. Some join me on the sofa, others curl up in their own beds, and the household returns to that lovely, peaceful state that gives absolutely no warning of the following morning.
Those evenings are as much a part of life with them as the noise and nonsense. I love their different personalities, their familiar habits and the pleasure they find in things we do every day. A toy in the garden. A game of tig. A good walk. Breakfast, obviously. Then somewhere comfortable to snuggle at the end of it all.
Sharing my life with seven Scottish Terriers means there’s always somebody to watch, laugh at or settle down beside. And however familiar the routine becomes, they still manage to make it their own.
For now, though, everyone’s cosy and the day’s adventures are over.
Tomorrow, Damelza will let us know when the world is open again.
