Storytelling Sunday

Have to confess that I nearly missed this one.  For the simple reason of not realising today was Sunday.  We’ve had visitors in the house since Christmas Eve, with numbers increasing for New Year and I truly had lost track of the days.
I mentioned Keats for the first time during December Daily.

This is his story.
This is my mum’s story.  Indeed, she wrote the story down.
This was my dad’s story.
This is my story.
And one day it will be The Boy Child’s story.
The black toy poodle with a red collar was purchased in C&A’s in Krefeld, Germany in 1961.  He was my Christmas present that year from your dad.  I was at RAF Bawdsey in Suffolk and a large parcel arrived for me on Christmas Eve.  Keats had entered my life!
On Christmas morning I went off to work ~ underground!  Everyone had to pass through a check point and exchange their ID cards for a permit to enter.  I took Keats with me (couldn’t leave him alone on Christmas Day) and the policeman jokingly said that he couldn’t go underground as he didn’t have any ID.  I vouched for him and so he was allowed access.
From then onwards, Keats was always to be found in my living space and when I married your dad, he moved with us to the many houses we occupied over the years.  He was even packed and shipped off for our tour of Hong Kong.
Sadly over the years Keats has begun to lose his coat and look rather dusty.  He was moved from front of house to living on top of a bedroom wardrobe and at one time was even put in a black plastic bag in readiness of being sent to a new home.
Fortunately, he was rescued by Ruth in 1998, given a trendy bandanna and a new lease of life.  Now he lives happily with Ruth and her family, sitting comfortably in the corner of their living room and, of course, I see him every time I visit.

Why did I call him Keats?  Well, I never much liked the poetry of John Keats, but I came to love this toy poodle and it seemed a good idea at the time and over the years no-one has ever suggested calling him anything else.
So on Christmas Day 2011, I wish Keats a happy 50th birthday and hope that he will be loved and looked after for many more years to come.
And there you have it.  Dave the Prof is correct ~ just tell the story.  Doesn’t matter a jot if it doesn’t mean a thing outside of your family.  The important thing is to tell it.  And then blog it and scrapbook it!

Hop on over to Sian’s pad for plenty more stories and a very warm welcome.

20 thoughts on “Storytelling Sunday

  1. Fifty! That's a fine age for a dog. And he's looking very well on it too. What a great story this is, reaching through the years as it does!

    Thanks for joining in again in 2012 Ruth – I got my post ready yesterday and then today I knew I was doing the stories, but I still forgot to phone my Mum this morning, which is a regular fixture for us on a Sunday morning

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  2. What a wonderful story, I love that Keats was such a constant in your parents' lives and that he now lives with you and yours. May he someday reside with the Boy and his family 🙂

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  3. I'm like you – almost forgot it was Sunday what with everything going on. What a great story – so wonderful that your Mum wrote it down to pass on down along with Keats.
    Happy New Year.

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