Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Tag: animals

  • Gobble…Gobble…Gobble…Happy Thanksgiving!


    Thursday, November 28, 2013

    Dearest Readers:

    On this date, November 28, 2013, we celebrate Thanksgiving. As we grow, there are many traditions made, and some traditions are broken. Growing up in the State of Georgia, my family taught me many traditions during the holidays, especially at Thanksgiving and Christmas. The holidays were for family. I recall celebrating Thanksgiving with my maternal grandparents. Although when I was little, I often was curious why my maternal grandparents and paternal grandparents did not come together for the holidays. Later, I discovered how strange our families were and I did my best to welcome all of my relatives.

    I remember my maternal grandmother always prepping, baking and cooking for the holidays. Our table was filled with most of the foods we celebrate and gobble down a bit too quickly. We always had a country ham, turkey, homemade biscuits that felt and tasted like a cloud and I recall eating too many of them. OK…so homemade biscuits are my weakness, and that is why I do not make them! Additional foods included cornbread dressing, green bean casserole, Southern potato salad, mashed potatoes, candied yams, and of course, we had a variety of desserts. My grandmother was a great Southern cook, so you can just imagine all of the food we ate. Another tradition we shared was always saying the blessing at the dinner table. Joining hands, we would ask my dad or grandfather to lead us into prayer.

    Some traditions must be preserved, and that is why when Phil and I eat at the dining room table, or at the breakfast table, I always remind him we must ‘say grace.’ Phil did not grow up with that family tradition, and the more I discover about his family, the more I recognize that his family was more estranged than mine could ever be. His mother did not cook a Thanksgiving turkey or dinner. His mother said she hated turkey because it was dry. She changed her mind when tasting mine! After moving to Charleston, I went to the trouble of inviting Phil’s family for Thanksgiving Dinner; however, after the way his mother behaved, I was a bit annoyed with her. Just picture it. As the cook for the Thanksgiving Dinner you are tired. For many days you have prepped the foods, thawed the turkey and prepared it. Baked. Cooked. Cleaned the dishes. Dressed the dining room table with your finest linens, china, candles and all the fun things I enjoy doing for the holidays, only to be told — perhaps in a dictatorial tone — that you are hungry and want to eat…NOW!

    I asked Phil if I could speak to him privately, letting him know I was furious that his mother was so demanding. He shook his head, refusing to speak with his mother. I returned to the kitchen, letting his mother know I had some peanut butter and bread and if she wanted to EAT NOW…she could fix a peanut butter sandwich. She growled at me… “Just give me a paper plate and I’ll dig in…”

    “You’ll do no such a thing. Dinner isn’t ready!”

    That was the last Thanksgiving I shared with Phil’s mother. New traditions were made, in hopes we as a family could teach our child that holidays were family days and were not to be dictatorial.

    Now, our son is married, building new traditions with his wife and child. As for us, I still prepare a Thanksgiving meal, and I dress the dining room table with china, a lace tablecloth, and candles and we take the time to enjoy our meal. Occasionally, I invite our friends over but as life has a way, most people have plans for the holidays.

    A new tradition we started two years ago is to decorate our Christmas tree on the weekend of Thanksgiving. Last year, I was so sick with acute bronchitis I did not feel like cooking Thanksgiving, although I did. Weak and exhausted by dinner time, I did something I rarely do.  I asked Phil to help with the clean up. That weekend he put the tree up. When I asked him to help with the decorating he grumbled, so like his mother —
    “I HATE decorating the tree…”

    I gathered the decorations and with tears in my eyes, I decorated the tree. Exhausted, I went to bed, furious with Phil and his hatred for the holidays.

    This year, I’ve let him know how his cold, and demeaning words hurt me last year. There I was as sick and as weak I could be, and all he cared about was watching his stupid football games! How dare him! Never did he consider how sick I was and how hard I worked to keep the traditions going.

    Traditions are important to me, and they should be for everyone, especially at the holidays. Much to my surprise, Phil has mentioned twice that we are decorating the Christmas tree this weekend. Sometimes I cannot help wondering just who is this strange man I married. His moods change quicker than the winds!

    Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. We are sharing it with friends, and on Friday, I am cooking a Thanksgiving meal at home. After all, some traditions need to continue. Since early marriage I have cooked the Thanksgiving meal. That tradition must continue. Additional traditions will continue, and a few will change. We have a family of four-legged children to celebrate the holidays with. This year, all of them — Shasta Daisy Shampagne, our 12-year-old, frail Maltese will probably share her last Thanksgiving with us. She has seizures now. Until last evening, the last was three weeks ago. Our pet sitter describes her as a frail, little old lady most comfortable in her rocking chair. Only for Shasta, she is most comfortable curled on a pillow with her blanket at my desk. Last night’s seizure scared us and I prayed, “Please God, let her live just one more Thanksgiving!” She made it through the night, and she is curled at my feet now.  Thank you, God!

    Our other children are Shakespeare Hemingway, a salt and pepper mini-schnauzer, Sandy Bear Sebastian, a blonde mini-schnauzer,  Sir Hankster the Prankster, a smaller mini-schnauzer who grumbles and grumbles and grumbles… Our youngest is our biggest, a giant wiry schnauzer named Prince Midnight Shadow. We adopted him from a shelter last year after my precious Prince Marmaduke Shamus crossed Rainbow Bridge. All of these precious children will enjoy a taste of Thanksgiving this Friday with us. Yesterday, the rescue I volunteer for requested for us to consider fostering a pup from a kill shelter. Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas needs fosters willing to help these little guys adjust to a life away from kill shelters and crates. At first, I thought “No, I cannot do this again.” If you recall, my last foster was Sweet Little Cleet…Cleet…the Pup Who Ran Away, But Came Back! I confess, I fell in love with Sweet Cletus and hated to let him go when he was adopted. I am happy to report he is progressing ever so slowly with his new parents. It has been a long process for him to forget the abuse he tolerated as a puppy mill stud, but now, he has a caring family who do everything they can to give him a life filled with love and tender care. Together, Cletus, now named “Little Buddy” and his family are taking baby steps. Baby steps leads to independence and trust, and I look forward to the day when I hear that Little Buddy is now a changed guy!

    I am happy to announce, Phil has agreed to take in another foster – a Maltese. So now, this Thanksgiving, even though we do not have the newest foster in our household, we have much to be thankful for on Thanksgiving 2013. This year I have good health again! We are still together in this marriage. We have love and peace in our world at home. We are thankful for our soldiers who are away this year, and we are hopeful they return home safely, soon. We are thankful for our grandchild, William; and we are thankful and so appreciative of our good friends. May we all have a toast for Thanksgiving, and may we all give thanks to God for another Thanksgiving.

    Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy your special day!

     

  • My Thoughts About “Following Atticus”


    As a writer, I enjoy nothing better than reading a book that captivates me. One that is a page turner where my imagination and passion are consumed, or perhaps, kidnapped with the book. A few months ago, I found a Facebook site, Following Atticus. The site caught my attention because I am the mom to four schnauzers. Three mini-schnauzers and one giant schnauzer. All have unique personalities. I do not treat them as dogs. I describe them as my babies. My groomer gets a big kick out of that!

    When I started following Following Atticus, I became captivated. Last week, I ordered the book. Yesterday, while I was baby sitting the service techs for a major repair of our heating and air unit, I sat in the kitchen, with my babies, reading Following Atticus. Some will describe it as a book about a man and his dog. Those of us who rescue and foster animals describe this amazing book as something more. It is a book about forgiveness, finding one’s self, compassion, acceptance, and in many ways, a story about finding yourself when you thought you were lost and alone and the journeys we take to come home again.

    Atticus and Tom have a relationship extremely close to the relationship I have with my animals. Last year, when I lost my precious giant, “Prince Marmaduke Shamus,” aka “Shamey-Pooh,” I thought I wanted to go with him. I am pleased to say, my babies taught me how to accept his loss and how I must move on. That is when I decided I had to adopt another giant schnauzer, preferably, a rescue. For weeks I searched and could find nothing. One morning when opening Facebook, I found a posting of a black giant schnauzer now available for adoption — in Athens, GA. Immediately, I phoned to inquire and was told, if I applied, I would be the third person in line for him. Within 24 hours, I was contacted that if I wanted this abandoned giant, I would be the adoptive mommy to him! Isn’t it funny and strange how things work out. I believe in the power of prayer, visions and the power and strength to be clairvoyant. No doubt this was a sign from my precious Shamey-Pooh. He wanted me to go on and to stop all of the tears. The tears haven’t stopped, but I have opened my heart to love once again. Shamey-Pooh and I had a connection — a deep, passionate connection, but he was leading me to something he wanted me to do – to find the love within my heart to love and accept a lost and lonely black giant schnauzer that had been abandoned. In a dream my beautiful, silver gray Shamus pranced around again, telling me he was fine and I needed to “Move On,” just like I moved on after my dad died. This was truly another hard lesson in life, but Shamey-Pooh was guiding me, showing me how to journey into love again.

    Now, a year later, my new giant schnauzer, Prince Midnight Shadow, has not taken Shamus’ place. That portion of my heart is reserved for Shamey-Pooh, but recognizing that life must go on has given me a new perspective to allow my heart to heal by allowing another rescue to teach me more about life, acceptance, forgiveness and love. “Shadow Bear” is full of life and in many ways, he is still a sneaky, energetic puppy that loves to jump up on me, until I remind me to ‘get down.’ His eyes grow wider with excitement when I come into the room. No, he isn’t Shamus. No one can replace that precious and fearful love, but we can grow and learn to accept the journeys we take in life, even the heartbreaking journeys.

    If you have never read the book, Following Atticus, I strongly encourage you (more…)

  • Communicating With My Precious Animals


    My silly pups. Prince Midnight Shadow, my cold black giant schnauzer rushes inside to brush against the leashes, hanging near my office. He is telling me he is ready to walk today. “Mommy,” he says, staring into my eyes. “It’s nice outside today. The heat will not burn my paws. Can we go for a walk later?” I smile. Nod at him. Now, he is resting by the leashes. And to think, I’ve actually been told that only a ‘crazy person would believe that dogs communicate and understand what we are saying to them.’ I smile, snickering to those people saying, “Maybe you are the crazy one…I communicate with my animals. They understand what I say, and they love me for communicating and understanding their needs.’ Like earlier this morning, when Hankster the Prankster, my smallest mini-schnauzer, raised up by my legs, wanting me to pick him up. He doesn’t like to be picked up. He’s always afraid that he might get hurt. It is so obvious that he was mistreated by someone. It doesn’t matter who mistreated him. All that matters now is he is not closed inside a crate where he was barking…barking…barking…at the top of his little lungs when I agreed to foster him. It doesn’t matter that someone raised their arms to him, ready to attack him. It doesn’t matter that he was dropped off at a kill shelter, to end his life. What does matter is this little guy has found a home that loves him, regardless of his demeanor, temperament, and personality. He is finally getting more comfortable with us, and he hasn’t snapped at my husband’s hands in a few days. That is an accomplishment for him. Although he is small, he is powerful and quick with his mouth. He defends me from everyone!

    Hank is unafraid and will protect his mommy, at all cost. He doesn’t care that something or someone could harm him. He cares about me and his home. That is, now that he has a home that accepts him and is teaching him he doesn’t need to snap at others. All he needs to do is trust. Today, when he raised up on my legs, he scratched his little paw on my leg, as if to say, ‘pick me up, Mommy.’

    “What’s the matter, little buddy,” I asked him? “Do you want Mommy to pick you up?” He growled. When he growls it is usually a warning to back off, but I carefully scoop him up in my arms. He grunts, placing his little salt and pepper fur next to me, then he cuddles next to my neck. This is something he has never done before. He rears back, to look into my eyes. “What’s the matter, Hankster? Are you finally saying how much you love me and this home?”

    He grunts again. I place him down. Moments later, he returns. He wants me to pick him up again, and so, I do. We talk for a bit without saying words. Our eyes stare into one another. He moans, moves his head close to my chest. He is telling me how much he loves me. My eyes fill with tears.

    Today is Wednesday, a day of remembrance for me. On Wednesday, May 2, 2012, I lost my precious Prince Marmaduke Shamus, also known as “Shamey-Pooh.” Wednesdays are still a sad day for me. Words cannot express how deeply my heart ached after losing Shamey-Pooh. A tsunami of grief appeared to wash over me, like a gigantic, rushing, angry tide and for weeks I wasn’t certain if I would survive. I did survive. The sun still rose in the morning, and set at night. Bills still needed to be paid, and Father Time continued to tick, tick, tick the minutes of life by. Still, my heart ache for the loss of Shamus continued, and that is when I decided to foster Hank, until Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas could find a suitable home. Hankster and I bonded, even after he left our home for an adoptive home. I dreamed about him on several occasions, dreaming he wanted to come back to us. That dream came true, like many of my dreams.

    Last October, Hankster returned. When I suggested allowing us to pick him up from his adoptive parents, some people were afraid he would not remember us. At first, he seemed aggressive, only to relax inside the car when he heard me singing. Silly dog. I think he remembered that I liked to sing. Arriving home, he rushed inside, to the water bowl, the toy box, and to greet our children. Hankster announced, “Hey guys, I’m back!”

    Today, Hankster communicated to me — as if to say — thank you! Snuggling next to me for a few minutes, he grunted, and then he brushed my face with a soft kiss, something he never does! Now, he is resting next to me, along with Shasta, and Sandy Bear. Hankster is home! It is such a beautiful, cooler day outside so I’ve decided a brisk walk with my babies will be more healing to me than a treadmill!

  • Sweet Little Cleet…Cleet Finds a New Home


    Dearest Readers:

    If you read my posts on a regular basis, you will know our sweet little foster Schnauzer/Maltese mix now has a happy home, filled with much love. His adoption day was Friday, March 15. After I took him to his new home, I sat down on the couch, talking with his adoptive parents, Cindy and Jeff, sharing the bits and pieces I learned while caring for him. While I was there, I watched sweet little Cleet, Cleet, moving around a bit. He kept coming to me, wanting me to pick him up, which I did, holding him close, stroking his fur for perhaps the last time. No, I did not cry. I was happy for him, knowing that this family was the most special family I had prayed so hard for Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas to find for Cleet…Cleet.

    A few moments later, I left, confident and happy for him. Arriving home, I gathered my group of pups, telling them that their foster brother, sweet little Cleet…Cleet had a new home. Sandy Bear kept going to the bed that Cleet, Cleet slept in during the day. He curled his little blonde body into a tight ball, perhaps talking with Cleet Cleet.

    Since his adoption, I have communicated with Cindy, the adoptive mom. After I left him, Cletus kept going to the corner of the sofa where I sat and to the front door. When I read this, I was heartbroken. In his little mind, he felt abandoned. I decided it was time to speak to Cletus…to attempt to reach out to him and communicate, just like Karen, the animal communicator, communicated to him when he was lost. I had a bit of knowledge about clairvoyancy since my grandmother had this gift, so I sat by my window, tears rushing down my face, making the attempt to contact sweet little Cleet, Cleet, to let him know it was OK to accept and love his new parents. I was thankful that my husband was asleep during this time. He has never understood how I receive visions, sometimes in dreams, other times, throughout the day. I curled my body into a restful position. My children were outside, so quiet meditation could occur. Softly, I spoke to Cleet…Cleet like I did on Thursday while bathing him.

    Two days later, I heard a happy bark in the house. All of my children were outside, playing. I recognized the happy bark — Cleet…Cleet. Again I spoke with him. This time, he was telling me how nice the people were. I let him know he was in a new home now, a safe and caring home. Silence for a few moments, then he barked again…a distinctive bark that only comes from Cletus, now known as “Little Buddy.” He shared with me that he was feeling a bit better now. I asked him if he felt abandoned by me. He paused, processing his thoughts carefully. “No,” he said. “When you left I did feel abandoned, and I stayed by the couch where you sat. Then, I remembered your conversation with me when you bathed me, and I must say, I loved that bath time together. I remembered you said you loved me, and your job was to teach me that I could trust some humans. I didn’t trust humans for a long time, because they were so mean to me…and when I ran away, I was afraid that you might hurt me too…but when I came back, you smiled at me, you held me close, you kissed my head, and I knew you really were happy that I was back. I told you I’d never run away again…Remember.”

    I nodded. We were communicating like I hoped we would. He understood why I had to find him a really good home, and with Cindy and Jeff, he would have a happy, caring and loving family. My job as the foster mom was successfully completed. A few nights later, I dreamed that Cletus needed a new name. The name I dreamed of was “Romeo.” That morning when I checked e-mail, I read an e-mail from Cindy. They decided to change his name to “Buddy.” They called him several different names, which he did not respond to. When they said, “Little Buddy,” he turned his head and responded. Simple…his new name is Buddy.

    During his time in our home, I called him Little Buddy when I picked him up in the mornings. His new name was perfect for him! He is a sweet, timid little Buddy.

    Last week, Cindy and Jeff took Little Buddy for his wellness check-up. The veterinarian gave him a complete exam, with blood work. Buddy is in great health, and the vet thinks he could be a cairn terrier. Cindy shared that she thought he was a Norfolk terrier. When I pulled the website for Norfolk terrier, I looked at a pup that was identical to “Buddy,” including the docked tail and blonde coat.

    As a foster mom, it is easy to fall in love with the animal that you foster. I fell head over hills with “Cleet…Cleet…Little Buddy…” and I miss him terribly; nevertheless, my job was to care for him. To teach him that humans will not thrust a water hose in his face, to make him move…to feed him, keep him clean, and brushed…and to show him that there are humans who will treat him with respect and love. Our job at this house was completed when we found him a new, adoptive home. Yes, it was hard to give him up, but that is what fostering is about… Little Buddy is taking baby steps now to adjust to a new life. I am certain he is watching how their Schnauzer responds to them, and he will learn much from their actions. I am so happy for him.

    Perhaps now, I will take a bit of time away from fostering… I grew to love Cleet…Cleet probably more than I should, but who wouldn’t love him. He was so gentle…so quiet, at first…and when I heard his happy bark one afternoon when I returned from errands, I smiled at him…so happy that he was expressing happiness. My wish for Cindy and Jeff is that Little Buddy will soon bark that happy bark. Baby steps. Patience. Love. Affection…Tenderness… only a few of the ingredients to be a foster mom.

    My job is done. Sweet little Cleet…Cleet now has a new home. Wishing you much happiness, good health and much love, Little Buddy!

  • Cletus Has a New Home


    Dearest Readers:

    I am pleased to announce my little foster child, Sweet little, Cleet, Cleet, has a new home. Tomorrow morning I will take him to his new home. He has been such an interesting little character, and he has taught me much about acceptance, trust, gentleness and kindness. After he came into our lives in October, 2012, I felt like such a failure when he refused to come to me…how his eyes quickly glanced away when I touched him, how he jumped away to get away from me when I simply reached to touch him. One week after arriving here, as you will remember, he ran away and was gone for three weeks.

    Since his return, I’ve seen a new Cletus. Still skittish, at first, he stopped playing the game of here we go around the table and chairs again. Instead, he would slide down, allowing me or my husband to pick him up.

    Today is our final day together. Yes, I’ve cried. I’ve grown to love this beautiful, gentle and sweet, little guy, and I do believe, he’s grown to love me, as he showed on one occasion when he jumped up to touch my leg, wanting me closer to him.

    Like all things in life, we have to grow, to accept the things we cannot change. Cletus was my foster child. When he needed someone to accept and love him the most, he came into our lives and our home. Here, he has learned to play with other dogs, and to cuddle up next to Shadow, Shakespeare and Sandy. No doubt all of them have communicated. Perhaps that is why he has responded to me recently.

    Tomorrow, he will have a new home. I am certain he will see that there are humans who will accept and love him, not because he was a stud, or because he was so mistreated….they will love him because he is easy to love. When he came to us, he was frightened. Now, he’s learned to trust.

    I wish his new parents the best. Fortunately, they have a puppy family member at their house. It will be easier for Cletus to adjust with another animal to sniff, play with and communicate with. Animals do communicate. How I’d love to know what my little crew has told Cleet…Cleet. I do believe it’s been positive doggy talks as they shared how we love and spoil each and every member of our Schnauzer and Maltese family.

    Cletus, go with love, knowing only good things are coming your way. Never will you have food thrown at you, ugly words shouted at you, and water splashed in your face to make you move to the next ‘stud puppy’ environment. Your life is changing to a happy life. Go with my love and best wishes for your happiness, Cletus. I wish you more “Happy Tails!”

  • Happy Tails — Little Cleet…Cleet


    Dearest Readers:

    Today I want to share more updates about the progression of our little foster child, our Schnauzer-Maltese mix, Cletus, aka “Little Cleet…Cleet.”

    I am happy to report that slowly, and I do mean ever so slowly, little Cleet, Cleet is learning that some humans are good and worthy of loving. Now that he is in our home, and comfortable, I have watched him growing, and loving us. A few weeks ago, we had a prospective adoptive family for him. Since I am a volunteer for Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas, they requested me to do a home inspection/interview. Cletus absolutely detests having a leash placed on his collar and he fights me every time I attempt one. This date was no different, so I placed him in a step-in halter, leashed. He relaxed and walked a bit. Perhaps Cleet, Cleet is aware of my hesitance and fear of leashing him since we kept him on a leash for a week whenever he went outside after running away from us. Now, he simply refuses to walk with a leash, although the step-in halter worked.

    Arriving at the couple’s home, I encouraged them to walk him on the leash. He was skittish at first, and then, he suddenly darted towards me, and jumped up on my leg, as if to say, “Help me, Mommy.” I was touched.

    Interviewing the couple while Cletus relaxed in the chair, I felt comfortable that all would be well with this couple. They had the tenderness and atmosphere I thought Cleet, Cleet would respond to; however, the next morning, I received a phone call. They decided to withdraw the application and not adopt Cletus.

    For about two days, Cletus responded to me, moving closer to me each time I touched him. Could he know that he was about to be adopted? I suspect he knew something was up, so I reassured him that all was AOK and he would still be with us, for a while. Friends have told me that we should adopt him, but we have so many animals now, I am hesitant; nevertheless, I believe if Cletus could express what he wanted, he would say ‘I have a home…right here…with the boys and this family.’

    With each day I am seeing new changes with Cletus. On one occasion, I was sitting in the den, with the other dogs around my shoulders (resting on the back of the sofa) and at my feet. Hank simply loves to curl around my feet. Perhaps to keep my feet warm? Who knows. Out of the corner of my recovering right eye, I saw Cletus, moving ever so slowly towards me. His head moved to the left, then the right…quickly, he dashed towards a toy and ran back into the breakfast room, with the toy in his mouth. This was a first! Now, Cletus wanted toys. He dropped the toy in his bed, deciding to find another. Carefully, he trotted to the den and the basket of toys. He snooped around, found a colorful rope and trotted back to his bed. I watched him for a few minutes, as he carried three toys to his bed!

    Another bit of encouragement — a few nights ago I placed Cleet, Cleet on my bed. He turned his body in several circles, noticing several pillows on the right side of the bed. Quickly, he jumped on the pillows and flopped down. Shakespeare wasn’t too happy about this, but a few minutes later, the two of them had their heads resting on the other, bonding as doggies do when they are comfortable.

    Resting my eye, I heard a growl, realizing it was Cletus. I patted him and he moved closer. I moved my hand, and when I did, little Cleet, Cleet licked my fingers! Another first! A few minutes later, he was playing with my fingers, gently gnawing at them!

    There are still occasions where little Cleet, Cleet will withdraw and refuse to respond. Last night while resting my eye again, I slipped my hand on him, patting him gently while singing a song to him. “I think you need a new name,” I said. He lifted his head.

    “How about Barney?”

    Cletus ignored me.

    “Well, sweet little Cleet, Cleet…what is a name you will respond to?”

    No response. Sometimes this sweet little bundle of charm can be quite stubborn!

    “How about Barnaby, Cleet…Cleet?”

    Cletus lifted his head, stood up and moved closer to me.

    “Hello little Barnaby.” His body was resting right next to me, as if he was glued to me!

    Perhaps now he has a new name. Many of my friends have said I needed to change his name. My response – not until he tells me the name he wants. At first, we called him Cletus. He gave us funny looks, so we called him Benjamin. He liked it for about a day. Today, I’ve addressed him as Barnaby and each time, he’s looked at me — deep into my eyes — something he’s never done before.

    Could it be that sweet little Cleet, Cleet and I are finally communicating, or could it be that he has observed how independent and somewhat sassy I can be — when something fails to please me? Maybe he’s taking notes from my behavior? Yes, that is just what this household needs, another opinionated, stubborn, feisty and independent family member!

    I suppose that will be another discussion — for another Happy Tail with Sweet Little Cleet…Cleet…the little boy who wants to find his own home, happiness and name.

    Hello, Barnaby!