The Birth of a Rough Collie

My tranquil existence of floating with my siblings in my mother's womb was shattered on 12 October 2024. I transcended space and time and fell to the fuzzy floor: blind, blubbering and helpless. The first real life sensation I felt was the loving lick of my mother. I could not hear or see her, but her radiant warmth drew me to her. Four other wriggling bodies shuffled their way to the live giving force of her nipples. As I drank, I felt the same nourishment I had received inside her womb run through my veins, filling me with power and immunity. Our ancient bloodline filling me with power, nobility and instinct. I paused for silent, poignant moment, as my helpless little body grew imperceptibly with every sip.

Blind, Blubbering and Helpless (Photo Credit Riana Vorster of Elangar Stud)

I was born in a small suburb in Limpopo. My father is Chellert Thane O'Cawdor, and my mother, Randglen Princess Aurora of Elangar. Thankfully, my father is a far cry from the murderous Scotsman of Shakespeare's imagining, but rather an aloof observer who felt his duties were completed after our conception. My mother's beauty and grace are only surpassed by her compassion, patience and unconditional love for us. As our eyes opened and the sounds of the world enveloped us, she allowed us to explore our new surroundings with excitement and adventure under her ever-roaming eye. The garden was a cornucopia of smells, sounds and textures. The grass tickling my tiny toes and the sand an excavation site waiting to be devastated by my claws. I do not know what I am digging for, but it is a compulsion which I cannot resist. My littermates and I were embroiled in daily battles on the lawn. We also hunted fuzzy toys and annihilated empty juice bottles. My father looked on with boredom, while my mother was rapt with pride. She was always their for a cuddle of consolation or a den for a moment of peace from our antics.

Cinnamon and Mom (Photo Credit Riana Vorster of Elangar Stud

Every now and then, strangers would stop by to gawk at us and give us cuddles. We were weary at first, but with a bit of reassurance from our mother, we were happy to oblige the strangers. One day a couple came over from Gauteng and I was the chosen one for them. They looked at me with such love and adoration that I was very excited to greet them. They called me Cinnamon, because my new Mom hates Cinnamon, and the joke is that she will finally love it.

Dad and Mom (Photo Credit: Riana Vorster of Elangar Stud)

My next experience was having needles jabbed into me. That was not fun at all. We were assured that this had to happen for us to grow up to be big and strong. I remember the first time. We went into a building and were assaulted my thousands of smells: dog smells, sharp smells, clinical smells. The sensory overload made me nervous. Next thing, I was put on a cold mountain top and touched by a gloved hand. Then, a burning sensation in my neck. I was very brave and only put up a mild conniption. My siblings endured the same experience as I, and then we were homeward bound. At home, we all shook off the stress of the morning and took out our frustrations on the fern that mocked our ordeal. Unfortunately, that would not be the last time I was faced by the fang of vaccination.

One of my most notable early experiences was moving on to solid food. I do not like to brag, but I have become quite a foodie. My favourite dish is a sumptuous creamy white ambrosia that is bursting with probiotic goodness. The plebs call it yoghurt, and later my new mom would call it a slightly improved name - puppychino. Other delicacies included my elevensies, scrambled egg, and the piece de resistance, dried liver. Unfortunately my daily delicacies became treats for which I had to perform like a public servant.

Before I was sent packing, my custodian, Riana, gave my new parents a 'few' tips to keep my coat looking show ready. She brought forth an assortment of brushes and potions, enough to make an influencer blush. In meticulous detail, she demonstrated how each one was to be used. Fortunately, my new mom has forgotten about most of the grooming rituals, because brushing is something for which I shall not stand, quite literally! Riana did send me off with a bag filled with care instructions, including WamPum grooming spray, which my new parents tried to use on me, but my violent remonstrations showed them. No more grooming for me!

Although I was dubbed, Elangar Rainy Day Woman: a name fitting to live up to the glorious stereotypes created by Lassie, a name so regal it hangs on me like a crown, a name to show off in the arenas of the elite, I am content to be nicknamed Cinnamon and continue my suburban existence two hours away in Gauteng.