Seeing the New Year in - 2011 - 2012

8/3/2019 Seeing the New Year in - 2011 - 2012

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Seeing The New Year In!By Ronnie Bray

Our chosen method for seeing the New year in these past

few years has been to watch the Waterford crystal Ball fall

in New Yorks Times Square, wish each other a Happy

New year, and then take to out beds. It is a sound plan, and

it works to our advantage usually! This year, it didnt go

according to plan thanks to a few local law breakers and an

elephant of a dog called Belle, our sweet Groenendael.

This year it was different. We couldnt wait for New York

to do what London and Australia had done hour earlier, and

so we retired early, being tired, and, being ancient, we can

get away with it without folks thinking it strange.

Saturday night we are treated by the local public

broadcasting system putting on Hyacinth Bucket [carefulhow you pronounce that!], followed by Judi Dench and

Geoffrey Palmers As Time Goes By, which is followed

by one of my firm favourites that is tolerated by my wife,

Last of The Summer Wine. After I see Last Of The

Summer Wine, which is a travelogue about the region of

my birth, an anthropological study about the inhabitants,

and a sociological study about how to get along together

with a variegated population when it is markedly variedand totally incompatible in all the important avenues of life.

The tiredness, to which I referred early, was so potent that I

dropped into Nepenthes arms whilst Geoffrey Palmer was


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trying to think of a good come-back to Judis ascerbic wit

over some trifling thing she had said to him after he had

been bested in a brief exchange by Mrs Bale. Thats the

point at which the spread of inhibition over my cerebralcortex was consummated, and I fell insensible.

It was my intention to remain in that condition until

Pheobus ginned to rise and rosy fingered dawn slithered

over the crest of the Superstition Mountain and warmed the

Valley of the Sun to its working temperature for New

Years Day at around 75 Fahrenheit, when I would rise and

attend to the needs of the day and the requirements of ourdogs. However, other forces not unconnected to the natural

world were at play to force my designs to submit to the

urgent distress of Belle in response to the few local people

that undertook to let off fireworks in a no-firework zone.

Mark this: it is not illegal to buy and own fireworks in a

domestic zone, but it is against the law to light them off.

However, someone always does.

The illegal firework people do not set off their rockets and

bomb shells in large numbers, but only in ones, twos, and,

by the most incorrigible, threes. Neither do they wait until

the Old Year gives way to the New Year in our time zone,

which is Mountain Time, or Greenwich Mean Time minus

7 hours.

Somewhere in the midst of, I will guess, Compos diatribe

against either Blamire, Foggy, or someone else, a few

minute rockets whooshed through the clear night sky.

These were immediately attended by 80 pounds of prime


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and licensed dogmeat launching herself up onto the bed in a

single hefty bound to find asylum that would bestow

surcease of terror, abundant and unquestioning comfort,

and an ultimate sense of safety in our arms. This we tookwith out customary love, patience, and understanding. It

didnt work!

Belle was hard to please and didnt settle. Instead, she

went on a walkabout on our bed, trying first this position,

then that one, and then a whole series of in between us,

along the backs of our pillows, ligging against one and then

the other of us for a brief moment before setting off againto find a better place. Although we have a King size bed,

there was not a place where our darling Belgian felt was

right for her. Consequently, she launched herself down

from the bed and roved around the room and bathroom to

find a niche where her well developed senses would be

counselled by her massive intellect that she was safe from

all harm, especially noisy ones.

At her departing, I settled back to sleep and was just getting

to the bottom of the hole behind the White rabbit when

another pyrotechnic device was set off bringing Belle in its

wake to repeat her previous performance and achieve the

same signal lack of satisfaction as she had previously. This

exercise was repeated several times until at about 11 30 pm

someone exploded a mortar bomb a few hundred yards

from our silent home. This device launched both dogs into

disarray, even little Frankie who had laid on her pad by the

side of my bed and been calmed after every report by a few

strokes down her glossy back.


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There was nothing for it but for me to rise, put on my robe,

and move into the living room, where I put on the

television and watched a variety of usherings in of the Newyear in various parts of the world and the country with the

volume suitably hushed. Frankie came to lie on my feet,

and Belle took up her usual position on the couch to my

left, where she laid her head on her big paws and kept one

eye open and fixed firmly on my face. I know I could get

to sleep like that because the comfortable chair I have is

extremely large, welcoming, and must I say it? super-

comfortable. However, surprise, surprise! Belle had adifferent notion.

I presume that human beings are not the only ones that can

enjoy pathological perseveration, because Belle had a

surfeit of it and although no further reports were heard, she

could not be sure that they really were at an end.

Consequently, she prepared herself for the worst by comingfrom the couch onto the arm of my chair and then

proceeded to walk across me, resting when the forelegs

were on the right chair arm and he hind legs on the left one.

I stroked her and cooed to her, which she likes, and she

stayed about four minutes, evidently soothed until she

wasnt!

Then, realising that her position would look ludicrous to a

stranger, she found her way down, carefully avoiding

Frankie, who, at 37 pounds, would have been crushed has

she been stepped on by a descending Belle with all her

weight on her leading foot: a point loading pressure of four


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tons! Being down did not suit her either and so she went for

a walk to think matters through. This brought her back to

the couch, and the couch led her to come and sit on me for

five minutes, and then to jump off again and wander more,eventually settling down on the couch with a weather eye

on me. At this point it was midnight in Arizona and I said

Happy New Year! to no one in particular, but it seemed

the right thing to do.

Thereafter, I fell asleep once more and drifted through

aching limbs, a nagging back, and dreams that included a

host of wandering dogs, imaginary fireworks, and wildbulls in the hallways, dreams for which I should charge for

their re-telling, and was woken up, not by Dawns

trembling fingers rapping on the kitchen patio doors, but by

the Christmas Clock chiming Silent Night. Yeah, right!

I also woke with a sense of peace and blessed refreshment,

for which I thank Him whose unseen hands soothe awayour fears and cares if we will yield to His care. Gay and

Ren slept as if the war was over, and the dogs had on their

sleeping faces peaceful demeanours.

The world was still, the noises gone, and I prayed that all

people could awake that morning of the first day of the

New Year, hoping that if they also woke to peace, that their

peace would last. I am saddened to know that it will not,

but that will not stop me from hoping and praying for it.

Nor will it stop me from wishing you, and your loved ones,

including your dear pets, a very Happy, Peaceful,

Prosperous, and healthy New Year!


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Copyright 2012 Ronnie Bray

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Seeing the New Year in - 2011 - 2012