I intended to name the puppy. I said Cecily Parsley. “That’s not a very Chinese name,” objected that Miss Ashton-Cross. I said neither was Coffeecup of Yaffle or Ciga- rette of Alderbourne. Parsley was to board with the married sister until I left London to stay with War- wickshire cousins for Christmas. I called two days in advance to say I’d collect Parsley the morning of December 23. The other Miss Ashton-Cross was in charge when I appeared. A ken- nelmaid was sent downstairs and returned holding a medium-sized black puppy. “There he is, a darling little baby boy, and I do hope you will be happy with him!” said Miss Ash- ton-Cross, overlooking my dismay. “But I bought a very small, parti- coloured bitch,” I squeaked when I recovered my voice. “Oh well,” said the unconcerned Miss Ashton-Cross, “It was another American.” It took the rest of the day to sort out the mistake. Cecily Parsley went to War- wickshire and then back to New York City with me. On New York walks, we some- times saw a handsome pale golden Peke “Buddha” with a young man. I was warned not to pat Buddha, because he bit. Soon after Parsley’s death in 1973, I saw the young man. He said Buddha’s actual owner had died and Buddha needed a home. The young man insisted that Bud- dha was valuable… having cost a lot in New Orleans nine years ago. The young man intended to take Buddha to the ASPCA. I objected and pointed out that if Buddha was about ten years old and biting… he’d probably endure several days in unfamiliar surroundings while the ASPCA waited to see whether the person who’d consigned Buddha changed his mind… if not, Buddha would be euthanized. It would be kinder to take Buddha to his usual vet where he could be quietly put to sleep. The young man said he couldn’t possibly do that… Bud- dha was so valuable he was bound to find a home. Exasperated, I found myself say- ing I’d take Buddha the next day. If he bit me, he’d find himself at Dr. Wasserman’s. I spent the night thinking the whole idea was idiotic
help feed the others and returned to San Francisco with Georgina… who would be my responsibility I imagined for the next ten or twelve years. She was nice but hoydenish and the people sharing the house made matters worse because her bad behavior amused them. At the time there was a horror movie filmed in Diamond Heights (where the house with Georgina and friends was located)… it featured a killer who made peculiar noises on the phone. One morning when I was settled at my desk failing to write the great American novel (which has eluded me to this day), when suddenly there were… pecu- liar, serial killer noises in the room. Horrors! It proved to be Georgina II snoring under the desk. Off to the vet we went, and Georgina’s nose was slightly pared. Georgina II returned to New York with me and proved to be a cheerful little dog. I spent more time in England and Georgina II stayed with a kind friend (Barbara) when I was gone. Barba- ra’s first love was Afghans, and she had a nice one “Sheba”… who was very beautiful and very dignified. Possibly too dignified, because one winter morning, Barbara stepped out of her house on Riv- erside Drive and fell flat on the icy front steps. Sheba was morti- fied… taking herself as far from Barbara as the lead permitted and gazing northward. However, Georgina II was all concern… checking for vital life signs and breathing in Barbara’s face until she was able to get up. When I moved to England, Georgina II had a permanent home with Barbara and lived to be seventeen. In London… early for lunch at the English Speaking Union… I found the Alderbourne London establishment (was it Lansdowne Row?) presided over by two sis- ters… the Miss Ashton Cross… both tall and, as it turned out, indis- tinguishable. One was in charge that day, and there a number of handsome puppies for sale. And there was a tiny… absolutely irre- sistible… puppy in a rabbit hutch. After I’d signed over a number of traveler’s checks to the Miss Ash- ton-Cross du jour, she asked what
1947 Taffy Topaz…a near-Peke
Louise King and Sqeakie Easter, New Jersey
1964 Louise King with Alderhourne Cecily
1953 1974
Parsley, London (Photo by James Rowland)
Buddha aka Old Mr. Quacksnap, New York City
Pipsqueak McFidget (nee Woodgate Star Imp) takes up the sidesaddle in Washington, Connecticut (Photo by James Deutschman)
1979
1992 Miss Bah Humbug occupied with the “Cahiers de Bug”, Connecticut
1997 George Sponge on his way to an AKC CGC at the Governor’s Horse Guards, CT. (Photo by Susan Hays)
S HOW S IGHT M AGAZINE , F EBRUARY 2015 • 233
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