Читать книгу Parisian Tails - Stephen Hayes - Страница 7

Even though I patted Paris's head on that first day, I didn't notice, not then at least, just how soft she was. I was more concerned with getting my own nerves under control, and making sure she wasn't going to jump up and knock my teeth out, to think about such things. I certainly would notice, though, and not before too long either. In fact, I would say that Paris's coat in general was a source of pride for me, because part of how nice it was, was down to my discipline in grooming her every day, and bathing her fairly regularly. I would attempt to memorise the feel of her in the time since, and especially in the weeks leading up to her death, so that I would never forget what I wouldn't be able to touch anymore.

While Paris had hair on her body, in most parts, it was easy to refer to it as fur—and in fact, we did that much of the time. It was especially soft on her head, which was as smooth and soft as velvet; and even more so on her ears, which were so perfectly smooth and soft if stroked downwards. My older sister Alysha would compare them to ear flaps on hats—which seemed appropriate, given that they were ear flaps. Occasionally, something small would get stuck in the hair (fur) on her head or ears, and it would always be easy to feel because of how soft and smooth they were.

Patting Paris would always be a great source of enjoyment for all of us, but Paris wouldn't always make it easy. She never bit, but she loved to lick, and she would almost always try to lick your hand when you went to pat her. Her tongue was very big, wet and slobbery. Her nose too was almost always wet; it would be dry and leathery if she had been asleep for a while, but it would usually be cold and wet, and would give you a considerable start if she came up to you and touched you with it.

It wasn't just her head and ears that were soft either; it extended to cover most of her coat. The only part of her that really wasn't ‘furry’ was her belly, which was pink and mostly hairless, and not a part that most people wanted to pat—although I didn't have a problem with it when I rubbed her belly. My younger sister Molly would describe the hair on her back as being like straw, and that may be on the right track; but if so, then said straw was very soft. The hair on her chest and muzzle was equally soft, and even on her snout and down her legs—although in those latter cases, the hair was shorter.

Then there was her tail—her paint-brush tail, as Alysha described it on one occasion, or an otter-like tail on another occasion. Her tail was moderately long, ending in a bit of a point. It was thick and solid, though, and quite strong when she really got wagging it. If she got excited while she was lying down, you would hear it thumping on the floor; and similarly, if I were in my bedroom and Paris in the lounge room, I would occasionally hear her tail thumping against the wall as something got her excited. It was quite normal to ask Paris to stop making such a breeze against our legs, especially over dinner time. Her tail could create such a breeze that she could sweep loose papers off a coffee table when she really got going.

2015: Paris at play; free-running at the park.