When you lose your beloved dog

Beautiful cavalier king charles spanielA dog is not just a dog.  And if you are a dog-lover, you will know what I mean.  This is George, my little boy. My baby.

I was shocked when he jumped on my bed one morning.  He hadn’t done that for a few months and his health had declined through the week.  Oh, he’d had such a hard, hard life.  Before he was one year old he’d had his first major leg operation.  He ended up having 3 leg surgeries over the next few years, 2 of them were major reconstructions.  He developed an auto-immune disease which caused large scabs to break out on his face.  He had a severe allergy to all proteins, so was on a special diet.  And because he was on cortisone, as well as other pain killers twice a day, we knew his life would be shortened.  But we loved him, and to us, being pain free and happy meant more than anything.  It meant he wouldn’t live a long life, but it would be a good life!

So, he jumped on my bed for a morning cuddle, which really shocked me.  I stroked him lovingly.  I’d had him at the vet the night before as he hadn’t eaten for four days – since our house flooded from a burst pipe.  Like I loved to do, I leaned over him and kissed the top of his head.  I buried my nose in his fur.  How I absolutely loved the smell of the top of his head!  After five minutes he tried to jump down but couldn’t, so I gently lowered him to the floor.  He still wasn’t well but at least he ate something the night before.

I went to work after checking him and left him asleep on the couch, head nestled on his favourite cushion.

At work I noticed I’d missed four calls from my son.  I quickly rang him.  He said he’s just arrived home from fishing and George was really sick.  He’d vomited all around the house and had severe diarrhoea.  I rang the vet to say George was on his way with my son.  He was put on a drip and admitted to hospital for tests.  I rang the vet throughout the day and kept getting updates.  I prayed for him, but just couldn’t leave work early as we had international visitors.  I was in a dilemma.

Our George was a fighter and he’d come through everything life had thrown at him so far.  I knew he’d pull through this too.  The vet rang me when I got home from work to say he was sedated and comfortable, but he was a very sick boy.  They were closing so I couldn’t pop in to see him until morning.

I waited for the vet’s morning call to say I could go and visit my George.  I just needed to know he was ok.  I ran to the ringing phone and couldn’t wait to hear about my baby.  “Hi Cathy. {pause} George didn’t make it through the night.  I’m so sorry.”  I sat on the end of my bed.  Stunned.  It couldn’t be true.  I didn’t get to say goodbye.  I wasn’t prepared.  But like all mothers do, I pulled myself together so I could tell my husband and my sons.

I went to the vet to bring my boy home, where he belonged.  The vet nurse lovingly laid him in my arms in a little white body bag.  I drove him home from the vets for the last time.  With a face covered in tears I kissed the top of the bag where his head was and breathed in deeply.  I just wanted to smell his head, just one last time.  I couldn’t’ smell him.

My husband, sons and I stood together around the mandarin tree and laid our boy to rest.

I now live with the guilt that I didn’t say goodbye to my little man.

“I’m so sorry Georgie.  I didn’t realise that last cuddle you gave me that morning on my bed was you actually saying goodbye to me.  I will treasure that moment forever.  I will see you again one day.  With Max, Winky, Kizzy, Chrissy, and all my little boys and girls that I’ve loved over the years.  RIP my little brave man.”

George died on 24th January 2015.  Forever loved.

 © 2015 CEW

Originally posted on my old blog site

 

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Warning – My best friend spews at the worst times

little girls - best friendsMy best friend has a weak stomach. She tends to vomit at the worst times imaginable – causing public humiliation for me – as well as for her {I should think}.

My first experience with her publically displaying the contents of her stomach was when we both worked in the city.  We were on a train during the peak hour rush; of all places!  She hadn’t been well and the doctor had prescribed her penicillin.  We were in the back corner of a very crowded carriage and there was no way we could get off the express train.  She didn’t look good and kept turning pale, and was whispering to me “I think I’m going to be sick!” She started emptying her plastic bag that held her lunch and whisper-yells “I can’t hold on, it’s coming!” As her concerned friend, I told the people around us to … “Stand back, she’s going to barf!!” She grabbed the handles of her plastic bag, opened it, leaned her head in, then projectile vomits her breakfast in one long fat stream.  And what did the stupid commuters do that were near us?  They all leaned forward to get a good look!  When they saw the multi-coloured rainbow spewing forth, they jumped back horrified.  Serves themselves right.  I hoped they enjoyed the accompanying smell.  It surely cleared the carriage when the train stopped.

Then there’s her moment of fame in front of thousands of people …

My husband and I, with her and her boyfriend, went to the horse races for a famous racing day. She apparently ate an off dim sim from a vendor.  It didn’t take long before it needed to make a reappearance.  We had no idea where the toilets were, so she ran to what looked like a sink in the middle of the spectator area, and emptied her guts.  Oh no … it was a public drinking fountain, on a hot day!  How is it that you eat some dim sims, and bring up vegetable soup? We needed to take her home, and fast!

As we walked to the car park, she clenched her stomach with her hands and looked for a safe place to … well, you know … go again. She saw a grill on the ground and made a bee-line for it.  She just leaned forward and let go, in the standing position.  Unfortunately, a lovely picnic blanket was on the ground not far away, and a group of well dressed ladies looked at her and made comments about “disgusting drunk women”!

Imagine my horror when I looked up – to see this all happened in front of the main grand-stand, in front of thousands of people. Many of them were pointing, laughing, and I’m sure I even heard a round of applause for her.  Actually, a group of bogans even gave her a standing ovation.

In the car on the way home, she opened the window, leaned out on a crowded highway, and off she goes again! Carrots, bile, yellow-looking soup rolled down the side of my car, and sprayingly greeted all those that were behind us.

I try to be a compassionate best friend, really I do. But I suck at it!

© 2015 CEW

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The stunning males of the animal kingdom

beautiful blue wren on window sill“Tap, tap, tap.”   I listened intently to ascertain where the sound was coming from, only to realise it was on my bedroom window. {Was Husband Romeo trying to get my attention?}  I sneakily peaked through the curtains and saw two little birds hopping around and merrily pecking at their reflections. I quietly opened my curtains wide and sat on the carpet, watching them for ages.  And with my tinted windows, they couldn’t see me at all!

I had no idea what species they were, and after a little investigating, discovered they were “blue wrens”; and would you believe that the stunning blue one was the male! {What the?}

I looked at these gorgeous birds and thought my facts must be wrong.  The pretty one would be female, surely.  Nope.  It was definitely the male.  And I realised that there are other animals where the male is the strikingly attractive, spunky, gorgeous piece of work, and the female … well … just isn’t!  At least I’m not the only plain looking female on the planet.   {Poor bloody animals.}  Is this God’s sense of humour at work?  If so, then I don’t think He’s funny at all.

fancy peacockLook at the peacock, for example, compared to the peahen (yes, a female peacock is called a peahen).

The male is all electric stunning colour with co-ordinated feathers. And he wiggles and waves his fail feathers to catch a female’s attention.  Bleedin’ show off.  He’s a chick magnet and he knows it.

peahen with peachicksThe female is … well … not really that memorable. Mind you, this poor hen is probably exhausted from looking after her brood of “peachicks” all day, while her other half is busy preening himself into immaculate glory.

Then there’s lions.

majestic lionOhhh laa laaaaaa, check out the majestic beauty of this powerful male beast!  He has an incredible coiffed hair do.  And he knows it too.  Look at his proud “I know I’m beautiful” look.  He wakes up with hair like this.  It’s his bed hair!  I wake up in the morning with a witchy-poo-fuzz-ball that sticks up on one side, wraps around my head to be plastered to the side of my face and is accessorised with a drool clump.

lionessCompare now the lioness. Oh hooray, I do have something in common with her.  Bloody chin hairs!  I know how this poor mumma feels.

{Long drawn out sign …}

So back to my beautiful blue wrens …

They have been pecking at my window every day for a few weeks now. Husband and Sons look out for them, and we can get very close without them knowing we are only a few inches away.  They must have their nest in a tree on my front lawn.

Unfortunately … we are not the only ones who have noticed them!

cat looking at birds on window sill

© 2015 CEW

 

My first big, bold and beautiful tattoo!

beautiful tattoo of rose and clock

I did it!  MY FIRST TATTOO

Big, bold and utterly beautiful … I love it!

What it means to me …

  • The clock represents time … the most beautiful “times” in my life, when my two sons were born
  • There are 4 hands, representing the times my boys were born, 4.32 and 11.40
  • The one red rose represents one family, and “Love”
  • I have my sons names tattooed on each side of the clock {which I Photoshopped out to protect them, as they would hate me broadcasting their names on my blog}

Did it hurt?  Oh yeah, it hurt like hell

Would I do it again?  You betcha

Where’s my husband’s name?  Well, if he ever trades me in for a younger model I don’t want his name on me!  Okay, I will get his name somewhere … soon

SO WHAT DO YOU THINK?

© 2015 CEW

 

When you see a ghost in your photo …

Family Christmas dinner with ghost in backgroundGhosts, spirits and the supernatural have fascinated me for years.  I grew up with a psychic Dad; and stories about his dreams coming true and “knowing” the future were my norm.  As I grew up it became common knowledge in my family that I took after my Dad.  Yes – it seemed I could foresee the future also.

A few years back I took my sons on a ghost tour in Ballarat (an old town in Melbourne), and since then, the boys have been captivated by ghost stories.  Son 2 even took his girlfriend for night visits to closed down lunatic asylums in Melbourne, but they were too scared to venture inside.  One particular night they heard a loud bang and ran for their lives.  They never went back.  It prompted me to tell them about the ghost who came to Christmas when their Dad and I were younger.

When I told them we had a photo of the ghost somewhere, they insisted I go find it.   I dug it out of an old archived box of forgotten memories, and told them the story in a quiet spo00oky voice.

close up of ghostIt was 1983.  I was having Christmas dinner at my boyfriend’s (now their Dad’s) house.  The dining room  window looked out onto an above ground swimming pool in the back yard.  There was a flat lilo floating in the pool.  When we had the photos developed we discovered what appeared to be a “ghost” laying on the lilo, looking at us through the window.  We had the photo checked by people at the photo shop and there was no problem with the developing of the image.  You will notice that the ghost has a reflection in the water and the curtain is in front of the ghost, showing that the apparition was most definitely in the back yard.  You can certainly see that it was in the swimming pool – on the lilo.  The ghost is pure white with tonal differences where his facial features are.

It is quite an amazing photo and it has generated much discussion over the years.  The boys still bring it out to show their friends, and some of them have been quite creeped-out by it.

We always get asked about the history of the house, which we are not sure about.  My husband’s family didn’t build the house and we don’t know if anyone died there.  The swimming pool was new and nobody had drowned in it.  So, we don’t know who the ghost may be, or why he came to Christmas that day.

Around this time we did have a strange night in the house.  I was sleeping over and I heard a tinkling noise in the middle of the night, but I fell straight back to sleep.  When I awoke in the morning I saw that the glass lamp-shade was not on the lamp.  It was on the other side of the bedside table directly over a small jewellery box.  I had no idea how the lamp-shade lifted into the air without breaking the globe to then move across and lower over a jewellery box.

I believe it was our Christmas ghost letting us know that he was still there.

To this day the ghost remains a mystery.

© 2015 CEW

Originally posted on my old blog site

What do Aussies really think of Halloween?

pumpkin with glowing eyesDo you really want to know what most Australians think of Halloween?  OK, you asked for it!  We think it’s … stupid!

Maybe it’s because we just do not understand it. Most of my Blog Followers are from the USA and Canada, so I apologise up front if I’ve offended you.  Here’s your opportunity to sock it to me – and educate me.

I am always prepared at home on Halloween night though. But not with candy.  Not with decorations.  Not with a skeleton sitting on my veranda in an old rickety rocking chair.  Not with fake cobwebs strewn over the front door.  Oh nooooo.

I prepare myself like this:-

I speed up the driveway and park in the garage, running to close the garage door in a weird running-crouchy position before any of the little witches and ghosts walking up the street see me.

In my home I shut all of my curtains and blinds. I turn the TV down so the house seems silent.  I tell the boys “If anyone knocks on the door, DON’T ANSWER IT! I’m pretending we’re not home.”

When Husband arrives home I usher him into the house and warn him with angry wife eyes “don’t make a sound!”

Are you getting the picture?  I’m like Ray Romano when his parents come to visit in “There’s something about Raymond”.  {Love that show!}

I don’t understand how …

We tell our kids never to speak to strangers or “accept lollies off strangers” – paedophile alert and all. So why is it ok for them to knock on strangers doors and get treats from them at Halloween?  I’d be terrified with terrorism that it’s a perfect way to attack Westerners – by handing out poisoned sweets.

Nope – not for me.

So last night was Halloween, and I ignored every knock at the door – the whole 3 of them! I guess it really was a “trick” to those trick and treaters.

So my answer to the little goblin’s question of “Trick or Treat” is this … “TRICK” … as I really was home!  Mwa  Mwa Mwaaaaaaaaaa {evil laugh}

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© 2015 CEW

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