It's a blog, ideas will be presented, opinions will be expressed, let's hope the ego dog doesn't need crate time.
It’s not uncommon this time of year to be dealing with vomit, runny poos and lots of socialising.
Maybe you got it on gumtree, rescued a reject or just got it gifted to you.
If you don't have one, I bet you've been seeing them in friends posts on facebook, or adoring them on instagram, you want one, you want all of them, you're definitely justifying it to yourself and maybe even your partner.
For some it’s a kitten, others a puppy, there’s even those whom are bequeathed the bedlam of both.
Whatever your back-story, whatever your reason, you’ve now got paws for thought.
It was another terrible weekend of indulgence for the bewildered beasts. Whilst they’re a mite confused, I’m jealous and mildly miffed.
When I first got my boy, Bear, I was cognisant of the fact he’d be susceptible to hip issues due to the likely mix of breeds he was. I wasn’t as concerned for Maddy, given the hardy nature of the Kelpie, I presumed she’d be as sturdy as Uluru, but not long after we met, she was cutting up rough after extended sessions at the park or beach. Some mornings she’d slide off the bed with what appeared to be bad cramps in her legs. To her credit, she limbered up like a champ and soldiered on trying to convince us that a morning walk on 3 legs was just fine.
When I was a wee toddler in the wilds of far flung hobbiton, our parents were cunning enough to employ cats to assist them with our upbringing. And up we were brung, myself and three older brothers.
When a cat is part of your home, it brings a whole new dynamic that is all too familiar to anyone who’s had the pleasure of engaging with these pharaohed felines.
My first cat was an aptly named stray called Lucky and I remember her as somewhat chilled, except when in the throws of violence with our other stray, Treasure. In both, we had the extremes of what I see as their behavioural scale.
It’s fair to say, I don’t get out much these days, this whole downward dog at the desk thing leaves the senses craving something they rumour to be life, or a pale impression thereof. So it was with much surprise that I found myself conned into a comedy show at the Melbourne Fringe Festival.
Lamenting my to do list, the never gonna get to do list and the list of other things that are yet to be allocated a fate, I found myself with an overwhelming sense of delayed spontaneity and decided decidedly later that I was going to put every nothing aside and do something other than nothing.
As the days warm and the bugs begin to swarm, it's time to iron your crocheted shorts and plan for sharper contrasts in the weather. Time to take out enough layers to stave off the evening bite, for draping over chairs, friends or donating to lost property as the sun reignites the fires within on those blue-sky basks.
My motley mutts embrace the change and revel in their shed, replacing their mud trails and full-body stamps on the sheets and pillows with a nice nose tickling of fur, sprinkling it over chairs, friends and anything that qualifies as property. If they’re not shedding, they’re scooting their ass along grass with grins from ear to ear, no it’s not worms, they’re victims of spring, as much as we are.
Some of the irrits provided by Spring can be more than overwhelming for our furry friends, they can scratch themselves raw and lick their tongues off on their paw. A dog with allergies will be scratching and itching a lot. Especially the face, belly, paws, and ears.
One of the down-sides of pet ownership is often the limitations on your travel ambitions. Not everyone gets Boo and You-know-who flown from pillar to post on a whim and a Learjet, many of us are required to take a more terrestrial trajectory in our travels. We can’t just whip out the unMasteredCard and get whisked away to golden coasts. It’s hard enough to get a taxi in Melbourne if you have mutts in tow, even those with guide dogs struggle.
Recently, I was tasked with an impromptu return road trip from Melbourne to Adelaide, and on long drives I prefer the company of others over radio or even my own playlist, as it is usually more engaging creating a lucid driving experience where I can avoid the snap naps and lapses that present such a danger when rolling alone. Given most of my crew have adult responsibilities, it was up to the dogs to keep me entertained on this journey.
There’s a homeless guy up at my local supermarket that often asks if I know of any dogs available for adoption. He assures me earnestly that he’s the best owner and would do whatever it takes to show that dog love and protection. I believe him, he’s on hard times but it doesn’t detract from his ability to provide for a dog. He’s always great with mine and they get excited to see him when he’s around, dogs are pretty sharp when it comes to judging a person’s soul.
Since nature was in nappies, dogs have co-existed among humans in part due to their ability to scavenge and hunt with us, as much as their ability to make us laugh and clear a room with a fart. They’ll follow you most places you dare and often take you places you wouldn’t normally dare. They’re companions, they’re comic relief, they’re stress relief.
I received news that a dog I’ve known for many years was sick today and not likely to get well. She was a sweet demon of a girl, with big floppy ears and a deceptive wagging tail. She’d wag her tail, let dogs approach and then unleash hell, sometimes, not all the time, but often enough to warrant vigilant eyes. The rest of the time, she was a happy bundle of contentment and she shared her life with Zorro, the dashing spoodle.
She’s not my dog, she belongs to my apprehensively-adopted family, (more) people I’ve caused inordinate amounts of grief. On occasion, I’ve house/child/pet-sat for them and whenever the dogs could, we took them to our place. I did take the cat once, which inevitably became a debacle, as his name’s Taxi and he bolted out the front door on night 2 so I was left walking the streets calling “Taxi!” in hushed tones around the Ballarat back streets. 17 wary drivers later, I opted to head home and he eventually returned.
When I took the eco dog for it’s first walk, I expected all manner of things, not least of all that the distribution method was eco-friendly.
Whilst I’m still yet to achieve a truly eco-friendly solution where we ship direct from our suppliers to your door, I was able to find myself a courier company that is carbon neutral.
Ever find yourself overwhelmed and wondering when it’s going to let up, only to swallow the bitter fukitol pill, unfold your hair and let summer be summer in your life? I myself prefer vacillating between work and play with enough reckless abandon that I feel alive still, albeit with only a faint pulse on some days.
This attitude has presented me with some of my best memories, although it has also cost me dearly on occasion. I see our society descending into a baseline of stress and obligation and our only motivation is fear from the insecurity of our jobs, our home and our circling debts, which is why I’m unapologetic when I take time for myself, no matter how small a moment.
I’ve read and practiced many forms of breathing and relaxation to better take advantage of some of those moments, but sometimes it’s simpler than that and you just need to get out in the sun.
Spring has certainly made an entrance this year, with snouts being rammed with fresh scents at near gale force winds and a sun intent on silencing the whinging wintered public. I’ve been getting out with my mutts and lamenting the lame to others about the weather and loving how it feels to be off-lead.
Some mornings I awake to the sound of birds, some the sound of my alarm but rarely to the sound of panting or pawing. My dogs have long since given up trying to rouse me from my often brief comatic episodes with my bed. The only thing that gets me up is the nagging knowledge that my yard will be dug for days unknown if they don’t get a run before I drag my corpse off to work. Until they learn how to make coffee, we have an impasse.
I've seen a lot of homeless in many parts of the world. I've traversed the path from indifference, to insult then finally to insight.
I've learned not to judge so much, as their stories are as varied as their faces, which you can verify in The Big Issue, if you don't believe my kind. I've shared a few laughs with their vendors. It's a real chance at
getting them back into independence and you hear it in the voice of those that are trying so hard.
It’s a funny old world, they tell us. Well, I contest she’s just delirious on the gas. We’ve all heard what the world is going to do about fixing the world but it all gets a little too meta at times. We’ve made the mud and nobody is coming behind us with plastic bags and baulking faces. This is our mess and without rubbing our noses in it, we’re going to clean it up before someone comes home.
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