You would be forgiven for assuming this post was all about the love of summer, especially since we’re experiencing such glorious weather currently.
Well it is in a manner of speaking, but not the summer you’re thinking of. I would like to talk a little about how Summer came to be a new member of our family, and some of what happened for that to be the case. This blog post will be a little different, it is about life, love, loss and making new memories. On the 23rd of February 2018, Summer became a fully fledged Yates. Previously she was my sister, and the actual litter sister to my previous dog, Gretal, who was tragically killed. She is a gregarious (I love that word), happy, puppy like being, who at 7 years old has been introduced to a new way of life. One with 24/7 dog and cat, days spent frolicking and nights spent sleeping….long and deeply!! When Summer first arrived, she had been used to pottering around her house and garden, with a dog flap available to her, and had never really known true tiredness. Grace kept telling Summer to "sleep whilst you can" and "you need to sleep when we don’t have visiting dogs". Summer responded with her usual "yeah yeah yeah", which has become her catchphrase - as has "I told you, but you wouldn’t listen" from Grace. At 7 years of age, Summer quite rightly thought she knew it all, and didn’t need little whipper snapper Grace telling her to sleep, and take it easy….."yeah yeah yeah" was all she said. And then it hit….that bone crunching weariness of hours and hours spent playing in the fields, entertaining visiting dogs, and barking away at the wildlife. Summer was too tired to move from her bed on the sofa, and for weeks slept downstairs….deep in sleep, never to waken. This was in stark contrast to her early weeks at Peak Pets HQ – pitter patter in the wee small hours….up the stairs….down the stairs….used to her previous insomniac mother and early riser father. Those days were certainly numbered!!!!! Now she follows the pattern of a working dog….work all day….sleep all night…and in the car….and in the garden….and yeah yeah yeah….you get the picture. As we tell Summer, Grace didn’t get her "little old lady" nickname from nowhere!!!! Now, as it happens, Summer ended up as a much loved member of our tribe in the most tragic of circumstances. Unexpectedly, and with total shock still seeping through my veins, my Mum died on 22nd February 2018. She had to go to hospital, but we thought she was ok, and when she had to stay in overnight, she asked me to look after Summer (my dad was a bit useless in charge of a dog by himself!!!!). Of course I agreed, and I was pleased to tell my Mum that Summer had been a good girl overnight. Despite being in hospital, at 07.20 on the morning of her death, my Mum wanted to know that her beautiful girl was safe and well. I was happy to reassure her, and I’m glad I did, as just a few hours later she was dead. Now you make be shocked about the use of the word dead, and not passing or passed away…more of the reasoning behind that later!! My dad was utterly heartbroken and devastated. His wife of 46 years was dead….his soul mate, his best friend and his life partner….ripped away from him in the blink of an eye. She was only 65 he said….it shouldn’t have happened. I couldn’t console my Dad, so we reluctantly left him at home to deal with his grief in his own way, he wanted to be by himself for just one night, and I understood that need for solitude more than most. He didn’t want my practical head disrupting his need for solitude. And I needed to be dealing with the thousands of thoughts running thorough my head by being useful…we were a right pair. So that night, me and my husband plotted and planned, measured and re-measured. We decided that Dad was going to come and live with us – a fine Simba bed in the back room, with a Harris Tweed chair and curtains, a radio….he could sit and do his crossword, and stare out of the window. We would look after him!!! I text my dad with my plan the next morning…I was hoping he would agree. We drove over full of fear and expectation, as my Dad hadn’t responded, which was so unlike him. As it stands, I found my Dad dead at home. Suffering a severe cardiac event, his death was instant, and a tad untimely. I was heartbroken that he never got chance to read that text message…I still am. I cannot remember much about that morning, other than repeatedly telling the ambulance control staff he was dead, after they told me to try and revive him. Well I cannot revive a corpse (apologies for the bluntness of this, but it is how I felt) My dad used to work for Salt and Son’s funeral home in Newcastle until he retired. He still had friends there, and they had driven him home from the hospital on the afternoon of my Mum’s death. And now it was my job to tell his friends that he was dead too. The only consolation, was that my Dad only had to be apart from my Mum for a few hours. They were reunited very quickly, and I keep saying that my Dad caught the same train as my Mum….with her saying, what the hell are you doing here – can’t I have a few minutes peace!!! You couldn’t write this story, we ran it over in our minds numerous times (and still do). I find myself shaking my head, and not quite believing it happened. And so, this is how Summer came to live with us…quite simply because she was an orphan, as I was too. My Mum and Dad’s funeral was, I hope a celebration of life. It involved two horse drawn hearses, doves being released, a slideshow of memories, and music that felt fitting. It was "Their Last Hurrah", and I did my very best to make it so. I also had to include my sister in this, as they were joining my sister and becoming a family of 3 again, as my sister also tragically died in 2012 aged 40. My dad’s friends from Salt and Son’s played their part, and Marcus especially understood my need for great attention to detail, my total absorption in my task, until the special day finally arrived. During the midst of all of this change, of heartbreak, of untold tragedy, and of welcoming Summer as a permanent member of our household, I found out I had Asperger’s syndrome. Now, finding out you’re on the autistic spectrum didn’t actually come as a shock. Me and my husband already "knew". I had many an aspie trait….not your typical male traits, but your female adult aspie traits….the ones who go un-diagnosed for years, the ones who become more than apt at social masking, and have many years under their belt of "pretending to be normal". I felt a sense of freedom, of relief, of contentment. I felt released from the constraints of neurotypical life, and resolved that it was more than ok to be neurodiverse….to be me. My only regret, is that I can’t tell my Mum and Dad. What would they have said I wonder….my dad being my Dad wouldn’t have said much. I would say my Mum knew, as I suspect she was an aspie too. During this process of enlightenment to the "neuro diverse side", I happened to mention to a customer that I was being assessed. She made me laugh all the way home….because she said "of course you are" and "tell me something I didn’t know". I felt a sense of relief then too…she knows and it’s ok!!!!! And this then takes me onto the subject of words….why I call death……death. Because that’s what it is….and being an aspie means I have a literal use of the English language, and at times, a bluntess which might come across as rudeness, when that's not my intention. So what do you get in return. Well, us aspies are known for our "special interests". I’m lucky that mine is animals, that they run through my veins like blood, that I live and breathe their very existence, and that by far I love animals much more than people. It is with an intensity that causes physical and emotional pain like no other at times, but it is who I am and part of me. This blog posts fills me with a sense of catharsis….I have Asperger’s Syndrome, and that makes me who I am. I am proud of my neurodiversity, and not ashamed of it. It means I have been successful at running a business for nearly 4 years now, after many years of not quite fitting in during my previous career. I was not meant to be an Accountant – we’re not all good at Maths you know!!! We're not all "rain man" or "trainspotters" and as it's a spectrum disorder, then we're all different. We think differently, process information differently and see the world through our own unique lens. I don't see it as something to be overcome, but something to be aware of, so I can make sense of this world which wasn't set up with me and people like me in mind. Meeting people tires me out, it overloads my senses, and has me running for the hills….literally. My peace and solitude are my medicine to life’s challenges. My animals heal my heart, and my job now is the perfect prize. I am truly happy looking after animals in my little paradise. I would also like to thank my loyal customers during the tragedy that struck so suddenly. Giving me the space and time I needed to think, organise and deal with my grief, and then still being there afterwards. I hope you all understand a little about what happened, who I am, and if you’ve ever noticed any of my idiosyncrasies, you can now make sense of them. Despite my outer social mask, I’m not the best people person, and too much peopling is quite hard for me to do. If you ever want to find out more about female aspies…then google Tania Marshall, Alis Rowe and Tony Attwood Until next time….
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AuthorPeak Pet Services....bringing our day in the Peaks to life Archives
October 2020
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