Taylor Whaler Sailor

Taylor Whaler Sailor,
Taylor Whaler and Me.
Taylor Whaler Sailor,
We sailed the seven seas.

Poem to Taylor the Corgi of Silverstream

All day and night Taylor's on hand,
Down by the Silverstream on the land.
Even little children love Taylor,
Down by the Silverstream on the land.

Taylor oh Taylor won't you come with me.
We can have a picnic lunch with treats for you and me.
Leave your old Mama home - she never would agree,
To me having a baby Corgi.

Taylor oh Taylor loves agility.
He can weave his magic and show ability.
Leaves them all well behind even in first gear.
He's so cool and collected and full of cheer.

Taylor oh Taylor we love you so much.
We love your Corgi kisses and your tender touch.
Come play with me a little and then have a rest.
You're the top of the tree, the very best.

All day and night Taylor's on hand,
Down by the Silverstream on the land.
Even little children love Taylor,
Down by the Silverstream on the land.

The Times and Trials of Taylor

GIFT FROM A TREE

It was Christmas 2005 and popular Wellington region radio station, More FM together with the Lower Hutt Pet Vet were running a special promotion.
" Bring your dog to Pet Vet and receive a gift for your dog from under the Christmas tree," said the More FM breakfast hosts. " Nick Tansley will be on hand and it will be lots of fun, lots of great gifts, and there is food and bubbly wine for the handlers."
Taylor, then a two year old, and I exchanged glances. Taylor pricked up his Corgi ears and I raised a thumb. Yes, this was for us.
So at seven in the morning we drove the 10 minutes to the large Pet Vet establishment.
Sure enough there was this deep mound of brightly wrapped gifts stretching two metres to a twinkling Christmas tree. Eventually Nick Tansley got round to Taylor and me and I gave the radio audience a short resume of Taylor.
" Now," said Nick, " Taylor will choose his gift with his nose."
" Go for it Taylor, " I urged, and the Corgi cautiously inched towards the vast piled up array of gifts . He was committed to selecting very carefully something which would catch his eternal hunger pangs.
The trouble was, the world and Nick Tansley were in a hurry. Radio listeners were hanging onto every detail.
Taylor looked only momentarily at a wrapped present in front of him and he was heading further up (towards) the tree. But then came: " That's it. That's the present Taylor has chosen," exclaimed Nick excitedly. No, no Taylor and I shouted back/ We both knew exactly what the gift was from its shape (me) and smell (Taylor) and we didn't want a bar of it.
" He doesn't want this present," I said out loud. " He never really did sniff at it."
"Yes he did, " insisted Tansley.
What could I do. Tansley and a radio audience of millions held sway. All these lovely gifts containing wonderful and delectable treats to bring utter joy to a Corgi. And what was he forced to endure?
So I unwrapped the gift. Taylor stood with a look of despair. Yes, it was a red plastic food bowl. made by poor lowly paid workers in some far off land. Taylor needed a plastic food bowl like he needed a hole in his head.
Tansley made me describe what Taylor had got. I'm sure I gave a sombre account.
At least the bowl sported my favourite colour. Taylor only saw red.


A TALE OF TWO KITES

Down at the local park there was this insignificant kid's diamond shaped, white papered kite.
A pre-school child held onto a delicate bit of string attached to the kite and was attempting to get the thing airborne, under the gaze of an adult.
Also watching intently was Taylor who for the first time in his three years was experiencing a kite and one which was struggling to do what kites are suppose to do - fly feverously but proudly in the sky, fanned by the wind and under the manipulative control of a hand or two.
Thought Taylor, " if these people launch this thing off the ground, goodness knows what will happen. It might rocket into me, anger the Gods and bring down thunder and lightning. It could explode."
So Taylor promptly turned tail and ran for his life back along the streets, with his dad in hot pursuit. Nothing I said made the slightest difference. It was homeward bound to the safety of the air-raid shelter. This from a Corgi who is not the least phased out by whirring helicopters and massive, noisy tankers.
Eight months later at the same park but different kid and adult. This time an impressive, brightly coloured kite flying high in the sky. Taylor looked hard at the kite flyer, his eyes traced the nylon string upwards to where the kite was hovering gaily in the breeze.
Again Taylor looked upwards and downwards. " So that's what happens to these things, " thought Taylor. " They change colour, go into a deathly orbital dance before wreaking havoc."
Away he sped from the scene. This time taking the short cut through the forest to his home dugout. Once more I raced after him in futile pursuit.
In future, when we go to that park, I'll look around first before giving Taylor the 'all clear,' otherwise if there is a kite, we are both outta here.


LOVE HURTS


Taylor was betrothed to young, dark, zesty and beautiful Zara and when Zara joined the Wellington Welsh Corgi Walking Club, it was going to be a renewal of friendship formed before any union was consummated.
But on the first club outing that Zara attended, Taylor only tentatively acknowledged Zara in favour of a fluffy, pretty young thing named Holly.
It was love at first sight and smell. Taylor was besotted. He wouldn't leave Holly alone for any length of time, planting numerous kisses behind her ears and on her neck.
For her part, Holly retained some sense of composure in being demur yet engaging.
That Holly had been spayed made no difference to the youthful suitor. On the next couple of Corgi outings, it was the same again: a virtual ignoring of Zara and Hello Holly.
Well, Zara felt more than a little put out and she and her mum's interest in Taylor diminished and the marriage was split.
A shame because Zara was full of fun. She was high on flirting and fooling around (in a nice kind of way) with every male or female dog she encountered however fleetingly - yet was keen on a long term relationship.
Then came Taylor's birthday party. Zara and Holly both turned up but so too did Holly's chunky brother, Fin.
Now Fin was his sister's sworn protector from any other male dog that ventured within his sister's shadow let alone manage a friendly touch.
After several attempts at contact, Fin's message hit home to Taylor: " while I'm around, don't mess around with Holly. I am her keeper."
And if it wasn't Fin lambasting Taylor, it was Holly who felt obliged to support her kith and kin. She also flicked off Taylor.
So Taylor's party was all but ruined for him and it took two days for a recovery of his demeanor.
But I know who will turn on the charm with Holly again when next they meet. And hopefully, Fin will have been permanently consigned to another district.

That sinking feeling

November, 2003

Wow wee. My family is going for a picnic and a swim at the Kaitoke Reserve in Upper Hutt.

It's not my first picnic but with me being just eight months old and summer just around the corner, it will certainly be my first ever swim. I wonder what swimming is like. I'm always careful to avoid any puddles and I like to be towelled very quickly after a walk in the rain.

I've heard that the common swimming methods are freestyle, breaststroke, backstroke, butterfly and dog paddle. I don't think I'll be able to dog paddle but the others sound pretty simple.

I just love picnics where I'm free to roam vast areas, play with the kids, see lots of people enjoying themselves and me making the right gestures for everyone to give me a bite to eat. My mum packed my lunch and I hope it's not real healthy stuff.

We're walking down to the swimming hole in the river. Oh good, my dad has changed into his swim shorts and so have the kids - Nathan and Daria. Where's mine? What am I saying. I don't even have bed socks!

After the swimming we're all going on a forest (bush) walk. There are lots of bush walks at Kaitoke and one even has a scary swing bridge. The kids just love to toss themselves about on the bridge right when I'm halfway across just to frighten me. But it's ok if dad's close by.

Here we are at the swimming hole and dad's introducing me to the water. Hi, water. Brrr, it's cold and wet. Hey, it's up to my wrists and ankles. That's far enough thankyou. Well, that's swimming dealt with. Now c'mon and dry me.

Dad is trying to coax me in again. He's getting pushy. Nathan and Daria are in - that's enough representation from the Romanos family. Surely we don't want to hog all the space.

I now have been engulfed by the river up to my knees and believe me, with Corgis there aint much else left. That's it. And don't think I'm going on the swing bridge either. Ah, Dad's picked me up. Isn't he nice. Hey, he's taken me out to the middle of the river and he's dumped me in it, feet first. It's fast flowing and there are rapids just ahead. And God knows what lurks beneath the surface - eels with razor sharp teeth, dog eating trout ....... I can hear laughter ..... and, and, I'm on my own and somehow heading for dry land. My hands and feet are working overtime. Made it. Here's a shake. Oh, oh. Dad's picked me up again. Same old, same old. Back to the water's edge. Now they are throwing sticks to entice me in. I don't enjoy fetching sticks in the least - they taste like wood.

Bravo, dad's given up. I proved I can save myself in an emergency. That's enough for a badge or something. Swim - forget it. Never again for me. Ever. From now on it's picnics without adding four letter words.

my first shot at agility

April, 2005

Well, I'm just over 2 years old and I lined up for my very first agility competition at the Kapiti Coast dog training centre's ribbon trial.

It's a beautiful autumn day but I'm a little nervous because I have only been to five training sessions at my local dog training school in Upper Hutt - but then I sneaked in a couple of other lessons at a neighbour's backyard.

I don't play fetch and before now I was just a show pony. My human dad is just a beginner too. Hey, and what a novice he is - not knowing the start from the finish, or his left from his right.

It's the Starters event I'm in. That means no contacts (A-frame, planks etc) just lots of hurdles, a 12-pole weave, two tunnels and a tire. Whew. The most I've accomplished in training was a couple of hurdles, a weave and a tunnel.
There's a crowd of people and dogs. They are all unfamiliar to me - I'm the only one there from among my training pals back in Upper Hutt. And they're all looking at me. I'm the only Corgi they have ever seen in agility and no doubt they think I'm a slow coach, incapable of getting my feet airborne by more than an inch, likely to wander off, treat every obstacle as unmanageable, and muck up the dreaded weave.

So my dad and I get the nod from the bench, and immediately I hear the word "JUMP." Let the fun begin. The second obstacle is the weave. Get that out of the way quickly. No problem - and in three seconds flat, I bet. Boy this is good. Eleven more hurdles, two tunnels ( one a collapsed job) and a tire later, all perfectly executed of course and done pretty fast - I felt the wind beneath my feet and my dad breathing heavily - I come up to the very last hurdle to finish the course.

But my dad gets all excited. He runs faster and expects me to do the same. Heavens, I'm not that fit. The finishing hurdle is set at a double distance from the previous one. I think I'll avoid it just to be safe from knocking off a rail.

The people and dogs in the crowd all let out a gasp. Damn, my dad is sending me back. Right, I'll take it from the opposite direction. Oops. I didn't realise that meant a disqualification. Another gasp from the audience ......... and yes, lots of claps and cheering. I must have impressed someone. Oh, yes, my dad seems overjoyed. Great. I'm sure he's got a treat or two for me.

My good Pembroke Corgi friend, Onycha Harley, penned this little ditty just for me:

CORGI FAIRE

I am Taylor
made for flight
though it is hard to see
at first glance.

My stance is neigh
as high as a proper
fairy mount should be
ready for agility.

Weave and shoot through.
Blew the minds of those
who didn't know
a Corgi can fly.

No home, no dad - it's no holiday!

November, 2005

Oh great. We're going across the road and up a little bit to see our favourite neighbour and her dogs Maggie and Judy, nine pekin ducks, two sheep, two budgies and a friendly little rabbit.

I get on splendidly with them all. But isn't it an inchy bit early in the morning for visiting??? Howdy, Sylvia. Let's have a cuddle and a kiss. Hey, where's my dad gone. I'm sure he'll be back real soon. In my two and a half years he's never left me with anyone other than one of our other four family members, otherwise I've looked after my home and property whilst the family have been scooting out and about.

Dad told me last week that he's going on jury service - whatever that means.

Hey, where is that man. Not like him to be this unreliable. Everything at Sylvia's place looks rosey but deep down I'm getting anxious and I can easily smell my beautiful home from here. It's so inviting. It really is.

Say, Sylvia's letting me out of this grassy yard I'm in so that I can play with Maggie and Judy, inspect the garden and grounds , say hi to the rabbit and mingle with the mob of ducks. I think I can easily outfox her as soon as she opens the gate just a fraction.

Here I go. A little Corgi sidestep and it's goodnight nurse. I'm away smartly and she's running after me and calling me back. Sorry, no time to say hello, goodbye - can't wait, can't wait, can't wait. I usually come to a dead halt near the end of the driveway, well before I get to the road, and wait for my escort because the traffic is pretty busy and some vehicles speed up just to screech around the corners. But not this time. I'm at full steam ahead. Thanks Sylvia, but no thanks.

Well, I'm at my front door now and I'll just wait for dad or one of the others, and in the meantime I'll be able to welcome any visitor just like I always do. Oh, no - here comes Sylvia. I think I'll hide. My god she's found me and she is picking me up. I suppose I'll kiss her just for the hell of it. But she now knows I'm sad and distressed. Can she carry me - a 30 lb bullet of muscle? Why, yes. It's a struggle but she's got some spunk as well as charm.

Oh well, If I sit in her kitchen and eat my lunch, life might just be worth living until dad comes to pick me up.

Later dad told me that he had missed the ballot for the jury. I dunno what that means, but on the very next day we didn't go to Sylvia's early in the morning.