Pearl is a very shy girl.

This is my friend Pearl. 

Sometimes, Pearl has 1 ear up and 1 ear down.

She also has 1 [maybe even 2] bung eye[s]. 

There is a rumour that Pearl is a very shy girl. 

It's possible that no one has told Pearl this.

I would never have known it myself, not in a million years,  if her human hadn't told us so.

My Cushion thinks a lot of the holes in my neck are from Pearl. However, he can't complain because I give other dogs holes in their necks too. This is called Good Fun. 


In my opinion, it is much more important for us dogs to have Good Fun than to have beautiful necks.

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Sometimes, Pearl's shyness can get her into all sorts of trouble.

Luckily, Pearl's human is there to protect her us.

Last week, Pearl's human was in the local newspaper. She wrote a book!

I.n.e.x.p.l.i.c.a.b.l.y, it wasn't about Pearl. I would get very cross if The Typist wrote a book and it wasn't about me.

Oh well. 

Maybe it's just too hard to write anything interesting about a very shy dog.

YAY  for Pearl's mama! :)

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My Typist has asked insists that I include this video although it has nothing whatsoever to do with my story. She was going to show it to you last week but she was too tired. She says everyone will understand why she was so tired when they see it. Frankly, I've seen it and I don't know what she's talking about. It's 5 minutes [too] long, boring as hell and a bit noisy.

I think it may be My Cushion. Poor unsuspecting thing.


[To reduce suffering, I recommend you watch from 0.55. That way, you only waste 4 minutes of your life.]

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Note from The Typist: 

It was NOT The Cushion.

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8.40pm Extra Note from The Typist:
Hey! It was NOT ME!

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9.15pm Hopefully the last Extra Note 
from The Insomniac Typist:
No, no! It was NOT a possum or a kangaroo either!!


Which means, it can only be...




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 Happy+Easter break everyone! x 

Strange things I did as a child, with [or because of] my dogs.

This post is inspired by June's star gazing
and dedicated to my sisters and brother
who'd better bloody well read it.

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A few days ago, after reading June's post, I started reminiscing about some strange ideas I'd had as a child. 


Actually, I had many strange ideas as a child. 


This abundance of oddity might have been because I spent so much time alone [despite having 2 sisters, 1 brother, good friends in the neighbourhood and a boy across the road whom I was deeply in love with]. 


However, I think it was more likely my father's fault. It was he who fed me a potent brew of faeries, dragons, cyborgs, super heroes, mythology, mighty mice and miscellaneous talking animals from the time I was 5 [which was when I started reading]. Who knows what damage all those alternate realities did to my young mind? 


Little wonder I now have a talking dog myself.

"Listen, Typist. I can't really talk. I am just a voice in your head. You DO realise that, don't you?"

By the way, my mother didn't read much, so I can't blame her. 

But back to June's post. 

One thing led to another and soon, I was remembering the stuff I did to/with/because of my dogs that, in retrospect, might have given my family and neighbours cause for concern. 

Just for a giggle, I thought I'd share a few of them with you today. You may or may not find them so odd, depending on how odd you are yourself. But here goes.

Strange things I did as a child, with [or because of] my dogs.

*  I used to run on all fours with my dogs. I liked to whine, bark and growl too. I'm quite sure I thought I was a dog. To prove that I was a kindred soul, I sometimes slept in their large kennel. [Though never overnight. That would have been too much.] 

I can still run well on all fours today, which is very helpful as a stretch and warmup in my exercise class. My dog and cat sounds are pretty realistic too, and I love making them as I walk by the street cats. The looks they give me are priceless.

* Long before wheat grass shots became a juice bar staple, I loved eating grass. My favourites were long dangly blades which were excellent to chew, and young pale green juicy stalks which were great for sucking on. I don't think I would have discovered their delicate flavour without the guidance of my grass-eating chums. 

I wonder how much pee and other unmentionables I ingested along with the chlorophyll. But obviously, it did no lasting damage. 

Obviously.

*  My father used to regularly buy big bones from the market for the dogs. They were pre-cooked in some way, probably smoked or barbecued. The meat would mostly be gone [for human consumption] but some would still be on the bone. That meat was dee.vine! How do I know this? 

I always got first go before handing them over to the dogs. That's right. Sadly for Cookie, Shandy and Mickey, they never realised there was supposed to be meat on their bones. 

Do I feel any remorse for having shortchanged my dogs that way? Are you kidding? My only regret is not being able to get my paws on one right now.

*  My other favourite food as a child, after an exhausting day of wrestling the dogs, climbing trees, wading in filthy ponds and riding around on my bicycle [which was really a pretend car - strange because I still can't drive to this day] were pies. 

I made these myself. Here is the recipe:

*Smashed butter

*Crumbled dog biscuits
*A little sprinkling of mud [every pie has to have some chocolate]
*Shredded grass


Mix all the above. Press into old plastic containers. Bake in pretend oven. Serve them pretend hot, 1 for me, 1 for the dogs.


I think it's safe to say, I had a pretty awesome childhood.

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Did you do any weird stuff as a child? Do tell if you did! I'd hate to think I'm all alone in this. NOTE: You don't have to have had a dog to play. I hear you can do strange things with hamsters too.


P>S> Thank you for all your kind thoughts  and birthday wishes! They were much appreciated. I hope you find this post a little more cheery :) x

Monkey mind.

I've been feeling a sense of dread lately.

It's hard to describe. Mostly, it expresses itself in tears.

Being Cancerian, I've lived a moody life. Being menopausal, my mind has gotten even more capricious and swings from happy to sad and gungho to nervous in 2 blinks of a stitched-up eyelid. I have some idea of why I've been feeling particularly down lately but am not ready to share it.

One day last week, while walking through Hyde Park on the way to exercise class, I started fantasizing about moving to Somewhere Else. It wasn't a new thought but, at that moment, it was unexpected. The Other Half and I have been talking about it on and off for years, more and more lately, as many people getting old do.

In this particular fantasy, The Other Half and Georgia and I were on the road.

I imagined us living in Bali, New Zealand, India, Morocco and Brazil, hopping from Place to Place, living as 3 fortunate beings with no ties, obligations or dependants might do.

Then, one day, in SomePlace, it was time to get down on the floor, give Georgia a big cuddle and kiss, say goodbye and send her off on Her Last And Most Excellent Adventure, before continuing on our own.  

It was clear as anything in my mind's eye.

I don't know how I managed to imagine all that in my short 10 minute walk along Elizabeth Street, through Hyde Park, and past the Anzac mausoleum. I suppose it was like those flashes of your life that you're supposed to get when you die.

By the time I got to exercise class, I was sucking in snot, surreptitiously dabbing wet eyes with my knuckles and pretending I had a cold.

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Today is Georgia's birthday, that we celebrate on the day we got her.

She's been with us 3 years now and is almost 4. Soon, when people ask if she's an old dog (she gets that a lot because of her white muzzle), I won't be able to feign indignation. It was around this age that Rufus hurt his leg and started to go downhill.

As a biggish dog, I don't expect Georgia will live to be 15 unless we're terribly lucky. As part Dane, whose average lifespan, I'm told, is 7, I'm hoping she'll make it to 10 in good health.

I don't mean to be sad today and am writing this just to get it off my chest.

The Other Half has bought Georgia a lovely big lamb bone. She won't be getting a birthday cake because I can't (be bothered to) bake but I don't think she'll miss it. I'll give her some peanut butter and bloodwood honey on a bikkie and a few pieces of white nectarine instead. She'll get a butt squeeze, 2 good walks [weather permitting] and she'll be a very happy dog.

Today, I'm going to try not to do any more useless panicking and work instead, on stilling my monkey mind.

 HaPpy *3 yEars *

and* 8 months  

Georgia!

You're a good girl

and we love you lots x