Jane in Spain

We often bring family and friends to see the large ships in the harbour at Garrucha waiting to load their only export now - gypsum. My brother-in-law, an ex merchant seaman, enjoys telling us which country the ships waiting to load in the dock are from and how the gypsum is mined in Sorbas and brought down from the hills via a fleet of lorries. All Interesting stuff.

The port is also home to a small fishing fleet and has around 300 moorings for leisure boats. We love to wander around the marina, daydreaming about which boat we would like when we win the lottery, before visiting one of the many fish restaurants dotted along the harbour.

The other day, Mike and I were doing our usual walk and fantasising about the boat we would choose to sail the Mediterranean when Mike decided to visit the Tabacos before we went for lunch. We walked up the steps from the harbour, passing fishing nets with their yellow floats spread on the ground and harbour workers sitting in the shade of some outbuildings enjoying a fag break. Waiting for him on a bench overlooking the harbour, I noticed something stuck to the heel of my sandal. It looked like soggy newspaper with shredded bits dangling from the bottom. There was something else amongst it though; something pink and wet glistening in the sun. My stomach turned over as I realised I must have trodden on the remains of a mouse.  I shot up off the seat and wiped my sandal on the grass underneath a tree next to the bench. Something white and shaped like a miniature dog biscuit landed in the grass...... it was a tiny bone.                                                                                                         

When Mike arrived back, we scraped the remains off the grass into the paper bag his cigarettes had been in and dropped them into a bin, all thoughts of having lunch gone. I just wanted to go home, have a shower and scrub my foot. Going back down the steps to the car on the quayside a sudden movement caught my eye. I looked down to see a tiny heart shaped face peeking out from a drainpipe, its green eyes wide with terror. A kitten. I grabbed Mike's arm and pointed. noticing that his gaze was drawn to something else on the ground. The half scavanged body of what we assume now to be one of the kitten's siblings was lying with its entrails splayed across the path. What remaining fur it had was grey, white and wet .A bit like soggy newspaper. The full horror sunk in; this must be what I had trodden in on my way up the stairs. I wanted to be sick. I also wanted to grab the terrified creature from the pipe and take it home. But what about its other siblings, if there were any left? We couldn't rescue them all so I'm ashamed to say that we did nothing.

I'm not a squeamish person nor am I naive to the dark side of life on the docks. I come from the Merseyside area of the UK and most of my family worked in shipping, either in the shipping offices on the Liverpool waterfront or in the merchant navy. I also subscribe to Darwin's theory of evolution (but not his views on womens' role in it I hasten to add!). I've just never had evidence of The Survival of the Fittest hanging from my foot before. Believe me, it adds a whole new perspective.

Feral cats are a huge problem here in Spain and there are some excellent charitable organisations working tirelessly offering rescue and neutering programmes and re-homing where possible. What can the rest of us do? I'm not sure. Donate cash? Volunteer in the catteries and kennels? Offer foster homes? One thing is for sure. The terrified face of that innocent little creature will haunt my dreams for a very long time.

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A couple on the small urbanisation opposite ours have recently aquired an Alsation type puppy. A lovely little thing. Problem is, they leave it outside on the steps of their duplex when they go out. It's about 600 metres from us and we can see the poor thing  wandering up and down the outside steps over and over again and barking frantically at the front door for its owners. There are gates on each end of the staircase so it can't wander off and its owners appear to care for their dog in every other way when they are home, so how can they leave it to pine like this?

The strange thing is, our two don't respond to the constant barking. I guess they are able to distinguish an anguished woof from an aggressive one. They usually sit upright, their heads on one side, listening and watching through the window.

Ok; we leave our dogs sometimes when we go out and it's too hot to take them in the car. They are left inside in the cool with water on offer, the radio on and a window to nose out of. They have a routine. As soon as we leave, they head off into the bedroom with the toys that they sleep with and snooze till we get back. We know this because we hear them yawning from the bedroom when we come back up the path - and find their toys on the bed. The neighbours tell us that they don't bark when we are out which is a relief to know. Not only do we not want them to be distressed but we don't want to annoy the neighbours either.

Anyone thinking of moving out to Spain permanently should go for it. Don't hesitate. You will love the people, the food, the culture and the relaxed pace of life.  We have always had an excellent service from the vet in Garrucha and the dog groomer there is wonderful. Just be aware, though, that the Spanish, generally, have a very different attitude to animals that takes some adjusting to. It's 7am as I write this and already there is a pitiful howl coming from a dog in the distance; its owners probably having left for work.  You can either tolerate it or, if you find it too uncomfortable..... and if you are able of course..... maybe do something to help.

I wish we had.

We have been watering and dead heading in the garden of some friends who are, sadly, no longer here to care for their pride and joy themselves. Having retired; sold their house in the UK and made the permanent move to Spain, they barely had time to enjoy it before he passed away suddenly and she, unable to face remaining here without him, went back to the UK to be with family. A devastatingly sad situation but the one redeeming fact, if indeed there can be one, is that they had made all arrangements here in Spain for just such an eventuallity and she wasn't left having to arrange a funeral for her husband at a time when just getting through each day was difficult enough.

Not only have we been affected by the loss but our two dogs, Branwen and Breaca have missed their company and the treats on offer as they passed their house on their afternoon walk with Mike. The couple were always friendly and welcoming towards the dogs and understood their barking language,knowing that they were just saying 'hello'. Now when they go past their ears are down and they are uncharacteristically subdued..

No one wants to think about dying but this has left us with a huge question mark hanging over our heads. Of course we have made wills, both here and in the UK, but done nothing about funeral arrangements. It has always been something that we have put off - well you do don't you? However, I'm hitting the big 7-0 this year and Mike, although a couple of years younger than me, is statistically likely to go first. Where would I start? We did have life insurance but this expired last year and to renew it at our age is expensive and would only cover us until we were eighty anyway.

We have to do something soon. I don't want to leave my boys with the worry of 'what to do with the old girl', especially if I am out here in Spain. If it was just up to me I'd have a funeral pyre on the beach with Fleetwood Mac playing in the background but funerals are for those we leave behind so that's not going to happen. It's very sad, though, that it has taken the death of a lovely man to jolt us into action.

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We've always had red geraniums on the outside sill of the bedroom between the window and the rejas. Last year, though, they developed white spots on the leaves and the plants started to look very sickly. We had no choice in the end but to replace them with other plants, making sure we changed the compost. This year we bought fresh ones from the local garden centre in Vera (always very reliable) and they have been fine - until now when I notice greyish/white spots have appeared on the leaves. I haven't overwatered them; deadheaded them regularly and removed any leaves clogging the bottom of the plants. I don't know what else to do. If I lose them again this year, I'm going to replace them with lavender. We already have some which is thriving in pots on the patio and, anyway, it's supposed to keep mosquitos at bay

I was relieved to read the article in the Euro Weekly that the early arrival of the mozzies was due to the very wet spring weather. We have some quite marshy terrain around here so that won't have helped. I'm sorry for everyone else who may have been affected by the little blighters but at least I now know that it wasn't personal.

I spent a wonderful day last Saturday at Castellon de Bedar up in the foothills of the Cabrera Mountains. Mike had spotted an advert for a beginners' jewellery making course in the Almeria Focus magazine and I booked a place online, thinking it might at least take my mind of my mosquito bites for the day. I was so glad I did.

We were met by Shane, one of our hosts, in the car park at the top of the village and he walked us round the meandering streets (a short walk) to the Castellon where we met Clare, our tutor and mentor. My left arm was dotted with elastoplasts covering my bites (I know you shouldn't scratch them) but I don't think anyone noticed? There were seven of us altogether - five other ladies and a gent. None of us were sure what to expect but we were all blown away by the beautiful setting and the friendliness of Clare and Shane. Clare is an excellent, and very patient, teacher who was keen to share her own values and skills in making the twisted silver rings that was our goal for the day.

Morning coffee and homemade lemon shortbread biscuits were served by Shane who also provided us with a superb lunch on the terrace overlooking the rooftops of the pueblo and down to the coast - with Andrea Bocelli playing in the background what's not to love?

We finished off the day, all of us having made individual style rings to be proud of, with a glass of Cava on the terrace.(that's me on the left lurking behind the easel). Shane showed us round the b&b suite they offer which was beautifully furnished in Spanish boutique style with the same stunning views from the terrace. Dogs are not permitted, being in close proximity to the kitchen, so that rules us and our two little yappers out (shame) but it would be a perfect place place for visiting friends and family to stay to enjoy the ambience, superb food, great hosts, the view ........ I'm envious already.

Mike picked me up back at the car park and listened patiently to my chatter about my day and the interesting people I had met. Unfortunately, for him, I still had Andrea singing 'Melodrama' in my head and kept joining in with the chorus. It's only a thirty minute drive to where we are on the coast but I think he would have preferred it shorter.

Back at  home I was greeted enthusiastically by the dogs and Mike showed me his new weapon in our warfare against the mosquito and flying insect population generally. He'd bought a 'zapper' from the Chinese supermarket which looks a bit like a tennis raquet with batteries. We've found the only way to get rid of those annoying flies which continually nose dive parts of your anatomy is to hit them over the head with the tin of fly spray - just spraying it gets you nowhere.

I'm now going to bed with all the old favourites ... blue light plugged into the wall, the mozzie repellent spray, lavender oil on my person and the new weapon in the arsenal - the tennis raquet hidden under the sheet. On the first night, I sat bolt upright at the first high pitched wine and frantically waved the raquet around - my finger on the red button on the handle as directed. I'm not sure if it did anything as I still got one bite on my finger. I think it's more likely that the little buzzer slipped off the lavender oil than was swatted by my backhand, but only one bite has to be an improvement.

I'm now also looking for a cure for ear worms as I've still got Andrea and 'Melodrama' on a continuous loop in my head!

We have two absolutely gorgeous miniature schnauzers, Branwen and Breaca (Welsh names). They are seven year old bitches from the same litter and they are superb pets, loyal, affectionate, cheeky, inquisitive, cuddly and adorable. The only problem is, they BARK!  They bark at neighbours, family, friends, passing cars and people on the next urbanisation to ours just watering their plants.

We have had them from twelve weeks old. They came from a breeder in Snowdonia and we met their mother and siblings, saw them in their home environment, had all the correct paperwork and were delighted to take them home. Our previous dog, Scruffy, a bearded collie, had died two years earlier and we now felt ready to welcome them into the family.

I knew someone who had two miniature schnauzers and I liked their funny characters and the way they interacted with each other so we thought that having two from the same litter would be company for each other. And so they are. Problem is, once one starts to bark the other joins in and the the first one goes a decibel higher and so it goes on. They have a yap which is not only high pitched but echoes around your head like Big Ben at close quarters.

We love our dogs very much and can cope with the yapping but we worry about the effect on neighbours here in Spain who are in close proximity to us.A lot of Spanish people tend not to keep their dogs on a lead and any offending four leggers sniffing, or worse, in our garden get the full multi-decibel treatment.

We did some training in the UK  which was helpful, and were advised to use a 'pet corrector' spray which mimics the sound of a preditor and can be effective in some circumstances. But who wants to frighten their dogs? We certainly don't. We just want them to chill out and stop barking!  We have a very good dog groomer in Garrucha, Luis, who understands schnauzers. His view is: 'They are schnauzers ..... they bark .... it's what they do!'.

All we want is for everyone to love our dogs as much as we do.

Last night was very strange.

I'd been aware for the previous couple of nights of a high pitched buzzing noise in the bedroom but we couldn't locate the cause. To be on the safe side, I plugged the anti-mozzie blue light thing next to my bedside table, sprayed myself with repellent and lavender oil and slithered into bed.  My partner Mike and the two dogs sleep in the second bedroom due to snoring (Mike) and wind (dogs) problems.

I woke around 6am with a row of stinging lumps stretching from my forefinger to my shoulder on my left arm, which must have been outside the sheet while I slept on my right side. The little buzzer had got me. I threw the sheet off and headed for the bathroom to apply bite relief spray before jumping back into bed, my left arm throbbing with pain.

Mike came in, the dogs trotting behind him, and we had our usual early morning tea watching the sun rise through the window. As the beams of light fell across the bed I noticed streaks of red had appeared on the sheet and pillowcase. Blood! The mozzie must have been draining my blood while I slept!  It was then that Mike noticed that my right hand was smeared red. On closer inspection, it seemed that my (red) nail varnish had somehow melted off and everything I had touched was covered in it. All we can think of is that there must be an ingredient in the repellent spray that zaps nail varnish.

It was a relief to realise that I hadn't been attacked by a killer mosquito but I still haven't got all the nail varnish off the bedding.