doggie coma haiku

A tangle of legs

wet noses softly snoring

dreams of open fields

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Allow me to present…

 

It took a long time, I know.  But I take the re-naming of said pooches verrrry seriously.  After consulting baby naming books, dog naming websites, reading the names in movie credits and even the street directory I have now found a new name for the other dog.

Again in a nod to her origins, it gives me great pleasure to present Miss (Vespa) Paloma nee Rosealine.  But that too is a mouthful, so for now we’ll stick to Paloma, ok? 

Hajimemashite.

 

my beer cost $115

Yesterday my friend Indy Gurl and I decided to go for a wander with the dogs. We’ve been on the hunt for a dog friendly, walking-distance-from-home watering hole for a while and not surprisingly we eventually ended up in one.  It was quite a feat to get a table and we happened to be near another older, small dog.  The four of them checked each other out and existed in harmony for the next hour or so.  The sun was shining, the beer was cold, life was good.  Then mid-sentence I heard the most blood curdling series of yelps and whines that no pet owner ever wants to hear.  My little Willow was pinned under the other dog, I could have sworn she was trapped in it’s jaws at one point too.  My instinct was just to get my dog out of there and so I broke every rule there is and thrust my hand in to the mellee but I couldn’t tell head nor tail of one dog to the other.  I put Willow on my lap to check her for injuries and noticed some blood above her left eye.  Later at home I bathed it with hot salty water but it was starting to swell and had me worried.  When I checked on her at 3am it was very infected, tender and she yelped in pain as I tried to clean it.  My local vet didn’t appear to be open later in the morning so with no mobile phone to call around for an alternative I decided to go begging at the Lort Smith Animal Hospital.  They were great and managed to squeeze me in and little Willow just lay rather limp in my arms until it was her turn.  Rob the vet was ace, he did some tricky MacGyver test and turns out she has a graze on the eyeball as well as the cut on the eyelid.  She is now very jacked up on get better meds and will hopefully be back to her old self when I get home from work.  Phew, that was the most expensive beer I ever had!

 

one track post

 

I’ve had another epiphany lately.  I don’t want to be one of those boring people who when they get a new thing (insert toy/ baby/ pet/ car/ trinket here) it’s all they ever talk about.  Ever.  So today we’ll talk about ummm… err… I’ll have to get back to you.

 

Introducing….

Yup, I’ve done it.  FINALLY I’ve settled on a new name for one of my two dogs, the little one.  Yessiree, I’ve decided her new identity should say something about her personality but also pay homage to her origins.  Observing her closely since she’s been with me I’ve noticed that as she’s rather small she tends to get blown around in the wind and so, Ladies and Gentlemen, please charge your glasses and be upstanding to welcome the newly re-named, Willow!  Her full name shall be henceforth, forthwith Miss Pixie Willow nee Roxanne.  But that’s a bit of a mouthful, so for now we’ll just go with Willow. En chanté!

 

vive le creepy, I guess…

I’ve once again added to the repetoire of creepy stuff my dogs like to eat.  Do they like the nicely packaged, nutritionally balanced, easy to handle, posh sounding and extra expensive dog bikkies?  No.  Instead they prefer to gnaw incessantly on creepy, dried up things.  Today, for example, they hoovered up dried pigs ears  – blech!  So the list now looks something like this; creepy dried up roolami (I don’t know what that is, and I don’t want to know), creepy dried up lung from some poor animal, creepy smelly staffy sticks (ditto unkown contents, but I assume it’s not made of staffordshire terriers) and very creepy dried pigs ears.  Just writing that almost makes me eject my breakfast! 

As much as I detest looking and catching a whiff of this stuff (let alone touching any of  it) I rationalise that it’s effectively re-using stuff that would otherwise end up as landfill and contribute to global warming.  So in a small way I’m helping to fix the planet.  But I’m getting verrry close to drawing a line in the sand.  I certainly will NOT be buying or touching pig trotters or snouts!

 

nothing to wear, the sequel

I’m determined not to dress like a hobo when I take the dogs to the park.  Admittedly the early mornings when you’re not really awake make this a particular challenge, but normally I just grab something from the laundry pile (I know, cringe, but it’s only going to get wet/ dirty/ doggie anyway, so shoosh!)  and get on with it.  The dogs don’t seem to notice, or care for that matter, and everyone else at the park has that dishevelled and ‘please don’t notice this ensemble is part pyjamas’ look too.  As I wrote before we’ve had wild, no make that bloody wild, weather here in Melbourne of late.  If it hasn’t been blowing a freezing gale it’s been raining and sometimes they’ve joined forces.  Which has made finding the right shoes for the park nigh on impossible. Cue chorus, I have nothing to wear. Repeat.  My favourite boots were getting trashed and my least-worst chuck on bad shoes left me with cold, wet feet.  And then I struck gold and thought this was clearly a case for funky gumboots.  I ended up going one better, it is Spring now, and got these beauties.  Guess you could call them gumshoes??  So now I have happy feet, a warm upper and a warm head.  Did I tell you I had to buy a fancy hat too?