It’s Sunday 3rd March 2013 and here I sit with a back snoring lump snuggled up close by. His head rests upon my leg while the remainder of his body stretches out taking up at least two thirds of the sofa. Any0one would think that it belonged to him. The occasional deep snort and twitch of back leg break the silence within the room, while I sit here thing, sit here typing.

It’s been a while. A while since I visited that brick wall that needed to be marked off. The one that used to feature so heavily within my life, mainly due to the fact that it was the view out of the battery hen style apartment that I had become accustomed to in Liverpool City centre.

An up-date. An insight to the life of JD as it is now. The changes, the challenges, the highs and the lows. The love (or lack of) and the journey that now lead me to be away from the fore mentioned brick wall and now be surrounded by trees. And a snoring black puppy!

It all started way before the summer, long back before the winter months too. It was talk of moving, whether it be house or to another area of the country. I was in a relationship with someone that seemed to be ‘normal’, well-grounded and had a head for knowing what they wanted. It was good. Enjoyable and I was happy. This lasted for a mere 9 months. The term of a pregnancy, some might say, but within that time period instead of new life being born, a metaphor,  it was, again, another brick crossed off on the wall.

Many conversations passed within our house. Mainly because the two of us enjoyed talking, but it seemed to be the way when you live with an intellectual human being. By intellectual, I mean with regards to knowledge, maybe not so to others feelings or their thoughts. The talk of moving house was consistent. Whether that be into an apartment or the new build housing in Bromborough, built by Redrow, the topic was there. So much so it lead to a number of visits to the site, other sites and the near passing over of the reservation fee. As with most things when related to the brick wall, this did not come to fruition. Looking back now, I am glad. At the time, I would be telling a different story. One of grey walls, white carpets, oak kitchen and mood lighting, but tinged with unhappiness. I can say that now, as I feel that’s the route things would have taken.

New jobs also filled the air, moves to the south, London, Brighton and even at one point, abroad, but alas this neither came to fruition. Again, good in some respects, when looking back. New jobs, though, did loom and lead to what was, most likely, the final nail in the coffin. The end of the 9 months. The closure of the door. The brick, the wallpaper samples, the paint swatches and the newly designed and laid garden. I was back in my own battery hen apartment, back with the wall.

It was here where I sat, thinking, occasionally, of what to do. I had been given the taste of owning a home and decorating the way that I wanted. The colours I longed to have in the apartment, but due to rental agreements were unable to apply. I searched and I looked. I looked and I searched, then, one day, I found. I came across a small 2 bed semi in a woodland area of the city. Big enough for one, or two, if that ever did happen. Big enough for me. And my puppy, if I got one. (We all know by now that I got one. That part is spoiled in the opening of this piece as he is mentioned).

The purchasing went through, but it wasn’t all plain sailing here either. Who would have guessed that the lady who had been the occupier and was now living in a nursing home, would finally bid a fond farewell halfway through the buying process? Well, that’s what she did. She gave up. She had given her all and the final thing she needed to do was sell her home. She was part way through…

You may be thinking at this point that the run of bad luck that seems to fall right into my lap during a number of occasions was dealing me with a double helping here, but this wasn’t the case. Things continued to sail on through with the house sale and before I knew it I was the proud owner of a 2 bed semi!

The moving in date was set. It was early one Sunday morning, while lying in bed, not having being out the night before, I continued my contemplation of getting a puppy. A puppy that I had wanted for years. I searched the internet. I looked and I found. I phoned and made an appointment. I rang a friend and made arrangements for a weeks stay for the puppy and by 10.30am I was on my way to collect. I drove to Blackburn to get him.

The car journey home was a long one. For something that was less than 30 centimetres in length, he sure could make  a hell of a lot of noise (bet the neighbours are glad that they didn’t hear that journey, just imagine the complaints!), but as soon as the boot was opened and I was in view, he stopped. He was tiny. Cute and could poo for England. It still amazes me that, again, for something as small as he was, he could do the biggest amount of poo per day I had ever seen.

After the first week of having him, and nightly visits for cuddles and playing, we moved into our new home. It was great. We had to stay in an wait for injections but we still had loads of fun playing with new toys and chewing everything in sight. (the puppy, not me). Everything seemed fine. The floors were ripped up, the new floors laid and painting was under way. These were happy days.

Over a month passed and all seemed well, that was, until a knock on the door on a Friday afternoon. It was the next door neighbour, but that is another brick. That is another story.

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