We’ve met Ms. Gill earlier this week here, and today we get to meet one of her characters. Welcome Sirius. Thank you for coming.
What’s your name?
- Sirius de Soum de Gaia. Humans who love me call me Izzie and I’m a Great Pyrenees.
Where/when were you born?
- Shut your eyes and imagine skies so blue they dazzle, snow so white the glitter bursts against your closed eyelids, mountains dancing in the winter sunshine, dancing all the year round. In summer, the high peaks swirl their veils of heat-haze and tease with sudden nakedness to catch your breath, the chain of summits stretching beyond the horizon, whispering the ancient southern names, Pic de Viscos, Pic de Néouvielle, Pic du Midi de Bigorre, Pic de Macaupera. The shadow of a cloud drifts on the wind, lazy as a grand raptor surveying its domain, darkening an entire valley, the Val du Lavadon. I was born in the Pyrenees, with my two sisters and four brothers, seven little white rat-sausages jostling blindly to reach our mother’s teats.
What’re your parents like?
- Morgana de Soum de Gaia: not only was Mother a Princess, but she knew her realm from puppyhood and had grown up with most of the other dogs, the Soum de Gaia aunts, uncle and sisters. But Father was from Away and at twilight, the hour for wolf-tales before dark and real work, Mother would tell us the story of how they met and a slightly abridged version of how they mated. Amados de los Bandidos, my father. The very name was enough to make you want to run off into the mountains and howl with him, according to my mother, and she’d heard enough about him from our Human to make any bitch salivate. Amados this and Amados that and more importantly Amados for THE marriage.
Do you have any siblings?
- There were seven of us. The two I met up with again later, long after our Choosing separation, were my sister Snow and my brother Stratos. Let me tell you about my brother… Dominant? Stratos? Maybe when he was little. When he was grown up, he didn’t need to do anything. He’d just walk. And when Stratos walked you felt this urge to roll over in front of him, wag your tail, look at some far-distant imagined mountain, look anywhere but at Stratos himself . You’d want to say, ‘Hey Stratos, did you skip breakfast? Here have my throat. I don’t really need it.’ You’d know that once you’d cleared up the niceties of status, you’d follow him to the ends of the earth and that same big brother would protect you to the death. We were pack.
Tell us one thing you’re the most proud of and why?
- Not being such a bad dog after all. If you read my story, you’ll understand why.