The Story of William


Cookie flew out of the conservatory and swung from the sittingroom chandelier the morning we had to rush off to collect a toy-boy for Fifi.


So how did all this come about? Well, we decided it would be a good idea for our little Fifi to have pups and I discovered that borrowing a male would be extremely expensive, just as expensive as buying a male pup. So I started phoning and emailing all the local 'elevages' of Cotons de Tulear.

I looked around all the Internet advertisements and made countless phone calls. 'Madame, nous cherchons un chiot, un petit Coton, male, pouvez vous nous aider?' (We are looking for a puppy, a little Coton, male, could you help us?) I said over and over again. But somehow the reactions, though sometimes in the affirmative, did not ring my bell. Till..... I phoned a lady who said: 'J'ai un petit garcon.....' Bingo!! I turned to my husband, Allan and out of the blue stated. 'It's William'.

I have absolutely no idea why I said that, though I did feel a kind of warm glow descend on me. As for the name, why William? No idea, no..... nothing to do with Prince William, although lots of locals hearing his name do, with delighted expressions, state 'ahhh, le Prince William'. Nor is the explanation to be found in the conclusion of one of our guests who is convinced that William is the anglicised version of a Medieval inhabitant of one of our 13th century windmills, called, according to her, Guillaume, and flattered, yet disappointed that we hadn't called him Guillaume (the French version of William).

Ever since I predicted that the left back tyre of one of our old cars was going to blow and warned Allan to drive away slowly from the motorway filling station he has had a rather exaggerated faith in any seemingly vacuous remark I emit. Actually, the tyre did blow, within 1 minute (no harm done, he was driving slowly). So after my 'It's William' exclamation he was even more keen than me to go and collect little William.

This is what he looked like when we brought him home, the day Cookie swung from the chandelier.



Here you see him with Mr. Mousey, his favourite toy.







Fifi was really very sweet with William, allowing him to cuddle up and sleep in her basket with her.

William is a great favourite with everyone, our cat Tigger adores him above any other inhabitant of the Couscouillette. Tigger rubs himself all over William, patiently presenting his ears in William's face, hoping to have his ears licked out. William usually obliges reluctantly, though not with the same furore he has when licking Fifi.

A small 2 year old girl was so entranced with him that she never stopped exclaiming 'Will-iii-am Will-iii-am' in her parent's car for over an hour, all the way back from the beach....

Unlike Fifi, who is a picky eater, William adores his food and gobbles his evening meal in a few seconds, then hoping to pounce on Fifi's dish and finish that as well. Fifi, intent on remaining the boss, though she is far far smaller than William now, will teach him politeness by pretending to have no interest whatsoever in her dinner, then, when he approaches her bowl... jumping at him in mock anger. William always backs off then, whereupon Fifi gives him a very satisfied look, and sits next to her bowl again, as often as not leaving it untouched for hours.

William is now absolutely HUUUUUGE, compared to little Fifi. He was born on the29th of February 2004, which means he will only have a birthday every 4 years.