Life As A Dog

Every morning I stumble out of bed dazed and disoriented. I trudge out to the living room and peer outside. And there is she is: Queen Cookie, our beloved dog. Resplendent in the sun. She perches on her cushion on the back verandah in bliss. We adopted her from an animal shelter a couple of years ago and she's been an awesome addition to our family.

Meanwhile I blunder on, trying to coax reluctant children out of bed and off to school. I wonder: would it be easier to be a dog? 

Reasons I think it would be easier to be a dog: 

• She gets to lie around in the sun all day.
• Like me, Cookie is also a breast cancer survivor. Unlike me, she's blissfully unaware of this fact. She doesn't even have to go for regular mammograms!
• She's completely unperturbed by her greying fur. 
• While she's lying there in the sun I'm pretty sure she's not thinking: but what am I DOING with my life? 

• She may have had puppies, we're not sure, but they're not her responsibility anymore.  Furthermore they're not going turn up for Sunday lunch, bringing their laundry and asking to borrow some cash.  
• She doesn't have to think about housework. In fact, the dirtier the better! Like all the dogs I've known, her favourite thing is rolling around in the dirt after a bath.
• She gets THE BEST pats, belly rubs and cuddles. 
• Going for a walk can often seem like a bit of an effort for me, but for her it's the most exciting thing EVER. 
• She doesn't even think about her age despite the fact that every year is supposedly seven (or something) in dog years. 
• She takes the time to stop and smell not just the roses but every damn thing. (Okay, maybe that's a bit gross...)

On the other hand, it must get terribly boring being a dog. Which is why our Cookie Monster has tried to liven up her life by bolting out the gate and going for a wander a couple of times. Related: we think we know how she ended up in a dog shelter.

About a year or so ago she managed to wander off several blocks away, following another dog. Perhaps she had a tryst with her boyfriend. It turns out that the other dog belonged to a girl who knew Mr 15 from school. I was at home posting frantic messages on Facebook while Mickey Blue Eyes scoured the neighbourhood. Long story short: the girl eventually saw my posts and the local pound delivered a trembling Cookie back home in their van. She was suitably sheepish but seemed happy to be here again. 

Her adventure over, she was back to her favourite spot in the sun.

Yep, life as a dog is pretty darn tough. 

Linking up for IBOT.

If you could be an animal, which one would you be? 

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Where do I begin?

Beginnings are HARD.

Image credit: https://www.loishermann.com/year-new-beginnings/

Writing one for this post is proving to be problematic. It's Monday (a bit of the old Captain Obvious there) and the beginning of another week full of exciting things. Using exciting in the sense of rather ordinary. Additionally, another week ended in which I did not suddenly become a millionaire. RUDE. Because I was all set to begin my new life of luxury. 

And while we're on the subject of beginnings, which we are. 
Just an FYI there. Because I do tend to waffle and have a short attention span.  I can't promise I won't meander onto another subject mid paragraph...

What were we talking about again? Oh, yeah. Beginnings. 

Life began for me one balmy day on January 15th 1971. Well, I assume it was balmy. I don't actually remember. That would be pretty impressive if I could, but I can't even remember five minutes ago let alone the day I was born. However, it's a fair guess, 
considering that January is summer time in the good old land of Oz. Also known as Australia. Which is where I was born. Each birthday I do remember has always been hideously hot. 

In a surprising coincidence I was born in a hospital in the same suburb where I currently live 45 years later. Yes, I've gone far in life. Winning! 

According to my Mum I was rather reluctant to leave the cosy cocoon of her womb. She spent hours and HOURS in labour. I finally arrived at around 6 pm. Just in time for dinner. Typical. 

Throughout my life I've shown a distinct lack of interest in beginning each day. Read that as I hated getting out of bed. Mum would be calling me and trying to wake me. When I finally surfaced I was grumpy and surly. Beware anyone who committed the heinous act of glancing sideways at me. Especially my brother. 

"Muuuuuum!" I would wail "Mark's LOOKING at me!"

As an adult I'm still not a morning person. I never spring out of bed eager to begin my day. 

In 1976 I began kindergarten. I remember clutching a red suitcase, unimpressed by the proceedings. 

Many years later I was terrified of the new beginning called high school. Even more scared when it ended. I had no idea what I wanted to do when I grew up. Still don't. 

But I trudged off to TAFE and a couple of years later I finally began working. It was a shaky start and I never really found my footing career wise. Enter Mickey Blue Eyes and the beginning of being a wife and then a mother. 


Without a doubt the scariest beginning was my breast cancer diagnonsense. I began the most challenging ride of my life. And now it's all over and yet only just begun.The start of a 'new kind of normal'. Adjusting to life as a breast cancer survivor. Have I mentioned that that I don't really like pink?  Yes, I WILL survive. Now let's all break into a rousing chorus of the old Gloria Gaynor hit.

Hang on, I prefer The Carpenters. And this song fits in with the theme of the post. Sorry, I couldn't help myself. 

I even tried to write an eloquent and deep poem about beginnings full of  my thoughts and feelings and shit. Totally nailed the shit part.

Check it out:


This poem needs to have a snappy beginning
To hook you and have you instantly grinning
Something unique, using words to entice
To make you read on, and then read it twice

So why do I sit and just stare at the screen?
How do I begin? And what do I mean?
There must be interesting words I can write
To make you a fan of this glorious site

All I have to do is simply commence
Just tap away, I don't have to make sense
Think about all the beginnings in my life
As a daughter, a sister, a friend and a wife

Even then my life had only just begun
When I was expecting son number one
The start of this thing called being a mother
Then soon I welcomed his cute baby brother

A family of two had now become four
But wait, said fate, there has to be more
Alas. our dear baby boy number three
Didn't survive, it just wasn't to be

Dismal days with housework a bore
The joyful birth of boy number four
Along the way, many shaky starts
Fears and struggles with heavy hearts

But for every beginning, there is an end
To make way for change and start again
Seasons change, days come and go
Learning to live with this constant flow

Decisions to make, life is curious
Emotions change, joyful then furious
Bored, elated, forlorn or excited
Impatient, determined, defeated, delighted
Battles fought and ultimately won
Playing The Carpenters We've Only Just Begun

Beginnings are hard, but so is the end
I fear you may never read here again
Through all our beginnings we're never alone
And that is the end of this woeful poem.



You're welcome. 

Linking up for Life This Week.

How do you feel about beginnings? 

Which song do you think of? 

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Life And Other L Words

You may have noticed that I have been missing from this space lately. If you haven’t then I would prefer it if you would please just pretend that you have for the sake of my fragile ego. I might cry otherwise and it wouldn’t be pretty. It would definitely be an ugly cry. Hideous, even. Not that you would be able to see it but I’m hoping that just the thought of having that image in your head would be disturbing enough.

The reason for my absence is very simple and can be summed up in one word *:

Life.

That shit gets busy sometimes.

Not to mention the other L word.

Lazy.

SHHHHHHH!! I said don’t mention that word!  Oh right, it was me who mentioned it. Silly me.  As if I would ever be so frightfully lazy that I simply couldn’t be bothered boring you with this blog. That never happens. No way. Well, not very often anyway. Ahem.

Anyway, I may as well bring you up to date with everything that has been keeping me as busy as a blue arsed bogan fly. On that point, do flies really have blue arses? I digress but you know me, always asking the important questions.  Back to being busy -I was going to let you know what has been keeping me so busy. In keeping with the lazy theme I will do so in the good old convenient ‘I can’t be arsed with anything else’ bullet point form.  You’re welcome. Here goes:

• Children: I have 3 of them. They are rather time consuming, requiring constant feeding, bathing and cuddling on a daily basis. Who knew? It was so much easier having a pet rock. (It was a 70’s thing. I’m showing my age. Sigh.) Except for the cuddling bit. Children are cuddlier, I must admit.
• Husbands: Actually just one husband.  He is here ALL THE TIME. All day. Every day. Constantly. He regularly attempts to engage me in conversations about things I have no idea about. Like finches or shares. He even made me feed his finches worms. This may be grounds for divorce. Did I mention that he is here ALL THE TIME?? Don’t get me wrong, I love the man. I’d just love it if he left the house occasionally too. Of course I’m conveniently ignoring the fact that he did go to Darwin for 10 days recently (which is why I had to feed the finches) and to Wollongong  just the other day. Minor details.
• Mr 4 became Mr 5 yesterday.
• Mr 5 had Kindergarten Orientation this week with two more sessions to go.
• Mr 12 had High School Orientation with more sessions to go.
• I bought a new Dyson. This has resulted in me momentarily becoming all domesticated and actually using it regularly.  I’m sure the novelty will wear off very soon.
• I am trying desperately to regain Exercise Addiction. Between this point and the former, I fear the end is near.
• I also bought some new saucepans. This was all good until I realised I had to rearrange the kitchen cupboards in order to fit them anywhere. And possibly even cook with them occasionally. Ahem.
• Counselling- my regular counsellor buggered off or something so I had to start over with another one. Hmph. Then, after I had one appointment and booked another, they had booked me in with yet another counsellor. It’s like a game of Musical Counsellors. Awesome.
• I finally rang up again about a so-called Adult Asperger’s Support group only to be informed by a woman sounding like a bogan Shazza (not that there’s anything wrong with bogans, of course) that the group was for carers of people with Asperger’s not people with Asperger’s. Natch. Why would we need support? We’re a bunch of self-absorbed, stimming, monologuing arseholes with no empathy. Silly me.
• Wallowing ,like the big sooky la la I am. See previous two points.
• Yet another L word – Lego. Dealing with Lego in some way or another takes up an extraordinary amount of my time. Buying it, assembling it, and cleaning it up from every corner of the house so I don’t suck it up with my Dyson.
• Children: Yes I know I already mentioned them. But they really do take up SO MUCH TIME that I thought they were worth another mention. I’m not complaining about this. In fact, I’ve been deliberately spending more time offline in order to spend more time with my boys. This has resulted in the following games, mostly involving Mr 5 and sometimes Mr 9:
• Pretending to be a dog. Mr 5, not me. I’ve gone so far as to actually give him water in a bowl. If I give him a collar and leash that would be taking it too far, right?
• Pretending to be a bird hatching out of an egg and building a nest. Mr 5 again. Ditto, if I put him in a cage that’s going too far, right?
• Hide and Seek- an old favourite. However, I can now no longer squeeze into the same hidey holes as I did when Mr 12 was little which is rather disconcerting. Apparently not quite disconcerting enough to make me pass on the cake for Mr 5’s birthday yesterday. Classy.
• Blue screen of death – this happened with one lap top which means we have only one and Micky Blue Eyes uses this for work. So I miss out until we get another one. Sigh.

Therefore, I will most likely continue to be missing in action until Christmas. Oh NOOOOOOOOOO, I said the C word!!  I tried to cancel it but nobody listened!! HMPH.  Okay, that’s it until the next exciting episode of Days Of Our Bogan Lives. I will be busy with all of the above when I am not sulking  in the corner about my failure to cancel Christmas. Sniff. 

Later, dudes.

What has been on your bullet list lately?

*The fact that I could sum it all up in one word did not stop me from banging on with another nine hundred or so. You’re welcome.

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