Yesterday we had to make the heart breaking journey to the vet. Even though we knew it was time for Wes to go, it was still very traumatic. He had gone downhill in the last two weeks and although he still knew when it was dinner time nothing else seemed to work. Do dogs get dementia? I’d let him out for a wee and then he just wandered until one of us tapped him and guided him back inside. He slept most of the day and then paced most of the night.
My son cried so much I had to keep him off school today. He sits in his window and stares out at the grave. Not sure how to comfort him, I’ve distracted him with movies, but it doesn’t last long.
Goodbye Wes August 1998-March 2015. It was a good innings.
After much fretting and changing of minds and plans, my Camino trip is back on. At the minute it’s just my dad and myself walking. Hopefully it will stay that way. By the time we leave the family will be sick hearing about the trip.
My husband, the three children and my mum will meet us in Barcelona in October. At least that’s the plan at the minute.
I bought a bright orange backpack so dad can spot me anywhere.
We started our training today. I wore my orange backpack and my boots. The boots are not that comfortable, but I’ll try them a few times before I give up and buy a new pair. We walked 14.80 kilometres. I’m tired, one foot is sore, my back is sore and it’s only lunch time. Dad went home and had a sleep. I think we have a long way to go before we are Camino ready. But I still can’t wait.
Red Tailed Black Cockatoos at Jamarri Sanctuary
Photo by Smills Enjoying a biscuit
Before Christmas a group of artists – writers, painters, photographers were invited to Helms Forest and Jamarri Cockatoo Sanctuary. The idea was to inspire creativity within the group and to hold an exhibition to bring awareness to the plight of the Black Cockatoos and their future if the intended logging at Helms goes ahead. The Cockatoos are amazing birds and the Red Tail is one of my favourite. Although they are very noisy. Below is my poem. (Hamadryad is a nymph who lives in a tree and dies when the tree dies).
The Last Hamadryad
As last Hamadryad
Lay down on the forest floor.
A carpet of dry leaves and grasses
Cushioned her beneath the Banksia tree,
Too weary to continue the fight against the
Machine. The one that drove her kind away. Fleeing on
Black wing, a glimpse of red tail feather, as the dryads and
Nymphs departed. The eerie silence spoke of the soulless of the
Invader. Of the emptiness that was to come. Loneliness beckoned
We watched the sky change colour as the sun slowly sank into the Indian Ocean.
This little red bundle of joy is now halfway through his 16th year. His mother was a Doberman and his dad was a friend’s visiting dog. They were so embarrassed they didn’t tell us what had happened, although they did record the conception!
We headed off on holiday, driving up the west coast of Australia. We didn’t have mobile phones and only found out when we rang our neighbour. He told us Sassy was pregnant so we cut our trip short and headed for home. By the time we got back she’d had 9 pups. Wes was one of them.
We also kept his brother, Rory. They were trouble together, often taking off after kangaroos. Rory, who was the sweetest dog had his leg badly ripped by a roo and had to be put to sleep. Wes stopped chasing Roos after that.
Brian, Sassy, Wes and Rory
Now he’s old. He’s deaf, blind in one eye and stumbles around. Sometimes he forgets what he was doing and asks to be let out and then back in. However, he always knows when it’s dinner time. The vet tells us he’s in great health, but at least 3 years past his sell by date.
We have left beautiful Western Australia for Christmas with my husband’s family in tropical Queensland.
We’ve already sat through a tropical storm and been dragged around Dreamworld. I can no longer feel my feet.
We attempted, very badly to play mini golf today, the only stroke we got was heat stroke. It’s 33 degrees here, but very humid.
Tomorrow we head inland to Roma, and then we spend Christmas in Injune.
It will be a very big change from our breakfast at the beach, but I’m looking forward to it.
Tomorrow we have a 7ish hour drive inland, oh joy.
Until then I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year.
I saw a post on Facebook this morning, reminding me there are only THREE Fridays until Christmas. Someone must’ve had 2014 on fast forward. Tomorrow is the last day of the Australian spring. The sky is blue and cloudless and a slight breeze tickles the trees outside.
Soon the summer heat will burn shoulders and noses. The aroma of backyard barbecues will travel on the breeze and ceiling fans and aircon will work overtime.
But now the sun is disappearing below the trees and a sliver of moon climbs higher.
That wee white sliver is the moon.
And what have I been doing on this beautiful day? I’ve been organised and getting those Christmas cards written. It’s my Christmas tradition to do it with a glass of Bailey’s. Now I just have to get them to the post office, but that’s another story 😜
Revenge of the Bra
Sick of being kept in the dark and forced to endure sweaty bodies, bras are fighting back. That time the hook of your bra caught in your favourite top was no accident. It was a deliberate attempt to maim said top, rendering it useless to wear. These bras will stop at nothing to redeem their freedom.
What about all those straps that refuse to stay up, no matter how many times they are adjusted. They just casually slip down, forcing the wearer to spend the day either (a) pulling it back up, (b) stripping off in public toilets to adjust or (c) getting a friend to help.
Check the web, the Wonderbra should really be called wonder it didn’t strangle you. A Triumph bra caused the above infliction, and according to their spokesperson this is unfortunately a common occurrence. Although they claim it’s an allergic reaction and not a vicious bra attack.
My friend almost had her eye gouged out by the wire in her bra, when she pushed it back, it retaliated and stabbed her in the armpit.
The web is full of stories of bra attacks, but the media is still covering it up. The revolution is almost upon us and we haven’t realised it. 😜
Life has been very hectic lately. Spring is here and the hot days are rolling in. Today I finally planted my seed potatoes, hopefully the dog doesn’t destroy my potato towers.
On Thursday I submitted my application for PhD and had a short story published on the ABC website. It’s a quick read less than 400 words The gardener and the bull ant
Took this beautiful photo during the week and not long after the pink disappeared and was replaced by blue, as the sun slowly sank. We’ve had some spectacular cloud formations, some look like an artist has flicked a paintbrush over the sky. Others resemble large cotton balls and look so fluffy and white.
They plant a tree with your £5 entry fee. How great is that!
Our short story and poetry competition has an incredible prize fund of £3,000, which will be awarded to each category as follows:
•First Prize – £1,000
•Second Prize – £300
•Third Prize – £100
•Two Highly Commended – £50
In addition, we will be planting a tree in Kenya for each entry, so every entrant is a winner! When the contest closes we will email the GPS co-ordinates of your tree to you.
Please Read the Rules Before Entering!
In brief, they are:-
•Short Stories up to 4,000 words, excluding title
•Poetry up to 50 lines, excluding title and lines between stanzas
•The theme is open
•Online entries preferred but written entries are also accepted (Click here for the address and postal details)
•Open to writers all over the world
•Entrants must be 16 or over at the time of submission
•Entries must be written in English and must be your own previously unpublished work
•Entries must show no name, address or identifying marks other than the title.
•You may submit as many entries as you wish
•£5 per entry
•Closing date midnight 30th November 2014
Click here to read the rules, Ts and Cs in full.
Your submission will also act as your acceptance of the rules.
Click here to enter the competition