Auntie Nessie

 

I was rescued by a dog.

Morag, a golden retriever puppy, exploring and sniffing her way along the beach found me unconscious.

 

I had tripped and fell about twenty feet or so down the steep cliff face.

Shorts and T-shirt offered little protection tumbling through skin flaying thorns, scree, bone crunching rocks before landing spreadeagled over a heap of bladderwrack.

 

My furry first aider barking and howling immediately applied her version of Canine Pup Resuscitation ( CPR ) by bouncing up and down on my chest.

Her owner quickly on the scene took charge while Morag in supporting role nuzzled my ear until emergency services arrived to take over.

                   

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‘…scan images have provided us with a unique opportunity to scrutinise your anatomical  abnormalities… they said.

 

a slow incremental increase and decrease in neck length observed      suggesting a possible link to a plesiosaur or similar

emitting chirping sounds similar to dolphin or whale communications 

 

faint scar lines behind each ear, gill like in appearance, six in total,

a scabrous rash on chest ( skin sample to dermatology ) left shoulder, neck and ear

 

right hand, skin between each finger webbed, left hand presented as normal

left foot webbed with all toes equal in length, right foot presented as normal

 

fragments of bone removed from vertebrae and cervical for analysis 

awaiting DNA results…’

 

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When I was about ten or eleven years old I vaguely remember my gran telling me about my auntie Nessie’s  

          

                            ‘…Anatomical Abnormalities…’

 

Two words, well beyond my understanding at the time.

She went on to say my parents were reluctant to discuss the subject of my  birth, a complicated C-section procedure.

Should the topic ever arise they left it to her to explain all, inform me in her dulcet sing song way all about any congenital abnormalities that may emerge from time to time in the years ahead.

 

Her vast repertoire of stories, tales, myths, legends and more varied over the years with ever changing scenarios, migration, desires, regrets, unrequited love with a song applied to each.

 

Despite the decades that followed, aunt Nessie’s story always remained consistent in the telling.

Whenever I returned from my wanderings, I always called in for a chat. 

 

‘…You’re just like a salmon returning to spawn Rory?

‘ How long are you here for this time before disappearing again?  

 

 She would say, adding…

 

‘…I’m making a Clootie this afternoon, would you like…?’   

 

I lean in and give her a hug.  ‘Yes please, extra large one for road and…’

 

‘ Stop making a fuss, away you go…make the tea and let me get on…’

 

As if on cue the old kettle vibrates on the hob, spluttering steam whistles for the tale to start.

Feet slapping on the old terra-cotta tiles she stretches and pounds the mix on a thick slab of marble, warbling a hundred year old waulking song.     

 

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‘Well Rory, your auntie Nessie was admired by suiters far and wide attracted by her statuesque beauty.

The curve of an extremely long neck with humps on her back added to her allure.

She married a local man,Willie Northend,  small in stature compared with your auntie.

It seems they hit it off and were seen at regular intervals swimming the entire

length of the loch.

Willie’s  arms wrapped around her neck, cuddling and kissing as they splashed about.

 

Anyway, over time, the intrusion into their private life became unbearable.

24/7 camera waving tourists, press and TV reporters competing to scoop the winning headline crammed into any available craft that could float shouting out’.

 

…look this way…that way…no…this way…spin your neck around

    is that a necklace your wearing or what

   hey, monster, show us your humps… and other derogatory remarks.

 

She developed a painful scaly red rash that spread all over her body.

The first known record of a number of unique genetic abnormalities that were to follow future generations including you Rory

 

Under the circumstances they agreed to a temporary separation, a period of respite to escape from the relentless scrutiny

Nessie chose to shelter in one the numerous subterranean caves and Willie sought sanctuary near Drumnadrochit.

 

Messages were passed to one another and family via low frequency sonar acoustic cues to keep communications and their whereabouts secret

 

Over time Willie informed Nessie that he had secured a substantial financial payout from the media.

The legal firm Gill & FinNess representing the family presented the case to the High Court of that time.

After careful scrutiny of all detailed evidence submitted, fin hacking, slander,         malicious gossip, harassment and more, the Court ruled in their favour. 

The judgement created a legal precedent for a trust fund that would benefit present and future generations of the Ness family to come…

 

‘The family also saw the opportunity to secure the rights for copyright to any reference concerning your aunt to promote merchandise, the patent rights for designs, logos, images, marketing etc, etc.

All the income generated plus interest accrued a vast sum of money which the trust invested in education, research centres of excellence specialising in the theories of Evolution, DNA, Genetics, Genealogy, Carbon Dating and more.

Some of the family expressed a wish to come down here to Loch Lomond where your parents were married.

Others scattered world wide, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and elsewhere…’

 

                               ‘ Ohh… Rory, did I ever mention…’

 

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Eight weeks after my guest appearance in the Intensive Care Unit,

disconnected from drips, unplugged from pinging screens etc.

I’m relaxing by the window with a sea view when the door rat-a-tat tat-tats.

 

‘ Hi…it’s Caitriona, may I come in?’    she peeps round the door smiling.  

‘ May I sit here?’ 

 

‘ Of course, please’  I mumble.

 

A waft of perfume covers me, exotic tropical fruit, fragrant spices mixed with the smell of oceans makes me dizzy.

It must be the drugs still in my system, I’m hallucinating, my hearts pumping.

 

‘…Well…since admission I have been closely involved with your treatment and would to have a chat about a proposed discharge care plan.

One I hope, that meets your immediate and future care needs.

Your  posture and gait still present issues requiring further physiotherapy sessions etc.

 

You can, of course say yes, or no, it’s entirely up to you

Would you consider coming to live with me?’

 

It would also involve a trip down to the Jurassic Coast in Dorset.

A week in Lyme Regis, meet up with Sir David Attenborough 

‘We sent him samples of your DNA bone fragments and he has unearthed, something of interest.

He’s keen to meet up with you to discuss his findings.

 

But…before you answer.’

I would like you to meet someone, someone very special, who will assist with your rehabilitation and is most anxious to see you again’

 

‘Morag…you can come in now’.  she calls.

 

My furry First Aider who found me unconscious, bounds into the room and sprawls out on my lap.

 

‘ She’s missed you and wants to do daily physio walkie’s with you.

 

A whispering wind puffs in the memory of a hundred year old Cloutie waulking song through the open window,

 

Morag’s  tail, smelling faintly of bladderwrack sweeps my face like a ticking metronome to the recipe for sharing love.

 

…Slapping feet on terra-cotta tiles…bind the ingredients together to create the dough…then stretch and pound the mix on a…