And the answer is....

So what did you guess? What was Dear Dog barking so annoyingly at??

No, not that.

or that.

Sorry, try again...

You really want to know?

It was...

Wait for it...

... a caterpillar.

Yup. Huge anticlimax, right?

Big Brave Dog was scared of a small 5cm long caterpillar. It had dropped to the ground and was wriggling in between some leaves. Big Brave Dog was trying to paw it out from under the leaves, but was so scared of it he wasn't having much success.

Mommy to the rescue. By that stage, the poor caterpillar looked so done in that I thought he may as well finish the job. So I dropped it on the paving, and it was instantly pounced upon, and then dropped again. Then Big Brave Dog decided that, before Pathetic Dog got hold of HIS caterpillar, he'd better take it away somewhere else. Which he did.

I then noticed a second caterpillar, so, in the interests of fairness, thought I'd better give it to Pathetic Dog - who lived up to her name and was completely pathetic. A quick sniff, a quick mouthing, and then she quickly dashed off to see whether Big Brave Dog's caterpillar was nicer than hers. At which point Big Brave Dog decided that hers must be better than his, and wanted a swap.

At which point I got rather fed up, grabbed both caterpillars and hurled them both into the nether regions of the field next door. (No sense in leaving them lying around to chomp up more of my plants, right? and I don't have the heart to stand on them.... I know, I'm pathetic too!)

So there we are, ladies and gentleman. My Dear Ferocious Big Brave Dog, who wants to kill anything that moves past HIS gate, or on HIS road, or on HIS field, was scared of a measly little caterpillar.

The world is full of strange facts. And useless ones.

From the morbid to the manic

I've already done a blog post today about Zoe, so don't want to rehash that here. You can read that over at the Born Sleeping blog. That's the morbid part from today.

Now for the manic: my dog. This evening, he's out on the driveway, barking and barking and barking. Not that insane "GET AWAY FROM MY GATE" bark. No, it's more the "Mom, please come see something weird over here" annoying bark. At first, I thought he was barking at passersby. Then I thought the mouse (rat?) had returned and was taunting him from on top of the roof. At that point I wandered out to see what the deal was. Nope. Not that either. Any guesses as to what he was barking at?

I'll give you a day or so to think of an answer. Closest answer to the truth will win a prize... not sure what sort of prize, but I'll think of something.

Baggins is the business

At home he's a terror - digs ALL the time. I've given up on mending my back lawn because there are more holes than lawn now. He also chews all Nathan's toys - anything left lying around will later be found outside, half destroyed.

It's not for lack of exercise - he gets walked every day. It's just purely that he does it to annoy me, as a punishment for leaving him at home when I go out. (So I'm trying the reverse psychology thing - I'm not reacting to it, and we'll see whether that cures it.)

When I walk him, I have no issues with him. When anyone else walks him, they have issues. Clearly he understands that I'm top dog. Never the less, my mother decided that he needed training, so she's paying for me to take him to dog training.

We've had 3 weeks with the dogs now, and every week I've been amazed at how BRILLIANT he is - the star of the class. Really. Last week we were put between two difficult dogs specifically because he is so well behaved and obedient. This week, he far outshone all the other dogs.

What this tells me is that Baggins is bored at home. He ADORES the stimulation of training. He could probably win competitions if I decide to take him along that route. Seriously. If he continues to shine like this, then I think I might just have to train him for jumps and things, because I can't tell you how his face SHINES at training. Even when he has to sit/ stand for ages, he accepts it all and just shines.

He really is the business when it comes to this training malarkey.

And I just love him all the more for it.

Let the record reflect...

Graeme VOLUNTARILY commented that Alyssa is "quite a nice dog". This from the guy who regularly threatens to kill her and usually means it.

Slaan my dood met a veer.

Bafana Bafana have to win now.
___________________________________________
Okay - truth be told there were conditions attached to his comment ... like that when she didn't jump on him, or hassle him, she was....

Come back, Baggins - all is forgiven

All this time I've been thinking that it was Baggins digging up my garden. On my return from dropping Nellie at nursery this morning, I caught Alyssa in the act, with Baggins sitting calmly by her side, watching her. Now I don't doubt that he has done his fair share of damage, but - ALYSSA!! My word - she's turning into a naughty dog as she settles down and loses her abused dog fears. Sorry Baggy boy, for only blaming you. The little lady is just as guilty and hence forward will be equally punished.

The botched cake

Doesn't look too bad, does it? Doesn't taste too bad either. And that's not just my opinion (I had one slice, to check). No, my naughty dog (Baggins) decided it smelt so good he would find a way to climb up and start licking the icing off.... hmm... maybe I shouldn't tell Graeme that, since he has to eat it. Hee hee! (Never mind, my love, I cut off that part and fed it to Alyssa, so you're safe.)

Attempt #2 also botched, but I haven't iced it yet. It looks a lot like attempt #1 though, so I'm sure it will taste fine. Attempt #3, however, was a complete disaster. The good news is that Baggins now gets to eat it, which is what he wanted to do in the first place.

After all these attempts, I've narrowed the problem down to one of two things - either it's the eggs, or it's the oven thermometer. I'm hoping it's the eggs, cos it's a new oven, so if the thermometer is broken, I'm going to put someone's head on the block. Or maybe I should just shove attempt #3 in that person's face - yes, I like that option. Nothing like a bit of raw cake in the face to drive home the point that the thermometer isn't working.

OK, so here goes attempt #4. Watch this space!

Not just a pretty face

We have a flea problem. A serious flea problem. Despite dipping, flea collars, and spot treatment, our dogs have fleas in their hundreds. Last night I took about 50 fleas off each. The night before that was the same. I've been combing the dogs every 2nd night or so, to help kill as many as I can manually. As a result, the dogs have learnt what to expect when I pick up the flea comb.

Last night, Alyssa was either fast asleep or out of ear shot when I called them for their combing. Baggins rushed to me and we started the combing routine. A few minutes later Alyssa became aware of the fact that Baggins was getting a combing. Normally, Alyssa goes first, then Baggins, and then Alyssa again (because she always has more fleas than him). Needless to say, she was frantic to get in on the action.

Initially, she tried to lie on top of Baggins. When I pushed her off, she then ran outside and started barking at the gate, in the vain hopes that Baggins would come out to see what all the fuss was about. I had a good chuckle over that. Then she went and found his hoof and brought that inside. She put it down just outside of his reach, so that he would have to get up to retrieve it. Again, all this to no avail, but I was amazed at her ingenuity. In desperation, she finally resorted to going to Graeme in the hopes that he might intervene and re-establish the natural order of things. Of course, that didn't work either, so she went off to sulk on her bed.

Whatever else you may say about our beautiful, small dog, she is not just a pretty face, I've discovered. Underneath her fear of humans, there lurks a very intelligent problem-solving brain. Now, the question is just: how do we tap into that brain and train her properly? (It would be great if she could pick up her own poop, for example!)

The capacity for evil

The other day, I was busy combing our rescue dog, Alyssa, when I discovered something horrible. She has always been averse to having her head and neck combed. Now I know why. As I was searching for fleas, and combing her hair the wrong way, I discovered a thick band of scar tissue (about 1cm wide) on which no hair was growing. Poor Alyssa has either been strangled, or tied up to such an extent that she developed a deep cut around her throat.

How can any person harm someone or something else like that? I can understand losing your temper... I've come very close to throttling Baggins when he's dug yet another hole or chewed even more of the irrigation system.

But the sort of wounds Alyssa has speak of a deliberate, long-term action that has scarred her both physically and mentally. While I may smack Baggins, I do so with a rolled up newspaper on his rump. While I may smack Janel, it's a sharp pat on the hand, or on her bum. These are actions designed more to shock than harm. If I were ever to cause serious harm to either man or beast... well, I wouldn't. That's the point.

I don't understand how people would allow themselves to lose control to that extent. I mean, I understand how it happens, even in normal, rational human beings. You just get pushed beyond the limit, and i recognise that that can happen to anyone in extreme circumstances, that no-one is immune. What I don't understand is how you can allow yourself to be put in that situation, (particularly on a regular basis), how you can fail to develop the self-discipline needed not to remove yourself from the situation, or change the situation. What I don't understand is the lack of compassion for other lives.

When I was teaching in the UK I realised for the first time that children who behave irresponsibly and immaturely don't grow up. They don't miraculously become functional adults who can take a responsible place in society. They become irresponsible and immature adults, who procreate irresponsibly and then raise more irresponsible and immature children. These individuals are totally 'me' orientated and have no ability to sympathise or empathise with others. It was a real eye opener for me. These kids saw nothing wrong with vandalism, taking drugs, physical violence against both friend and foe, and, what was worse, neither did their parents.

While I can understand it at a cognitive level, at an emotional level I really don't. The kids I've described would have no problems with beating a dog to death. I understand that because they have no capacity for real love, because they've grown up in a world where real love has not been demonstrated to them. At an emotional level I just don't get it. How can anyone lose touch with their own humanity to that extent?

I know that we aren't the perfect dog owners. We don't have enough time to pay them the attention they deserve/ walk them/ play with them/ keep them as mentally healthy as they should be. I know that. Yet, I also know that the home we provide for our pets is a safe and happy one. They are loved, fed, given shelter, and cared for. I know that Alyssa is happy with us and feels mostly secure (every now and again, her emotional scars come peeking through and she wets herself). It makes me feel good to know that we are giving her a new chance at life, in the manner that it should be lived. I am astounded though by the human capacity for cruelty and violence. Within each of us there is a tremendous capacity for evil, and I am astounded at how easily we allow that capacity to become a reality.

Dog solutions

Puppies chew. Everything. Baggins is no exception. He will chew air plants, sticks, pens (from the bin), used tissues (also from the bin), garden trellises, irrigation pipes, Janel's toys, shoes, washing stands, his bed, his blanket, grass runners (that he actually will pull up for the express purpose of then chewing them - anything EXCEPT his chew toys.

Puppies dig. Again, Baggins is no exception. In the worst spots I've put down plastic mesh (which stopped him in that area). For the less fixable areas I've tried smacking, hosing him with the hose-pipe, putting his poo into the hole, and putting pellets into the hole that are supposed to repel animals (particularly dogs). Thus far, nothing has worked.

And the problem is not boredom, because he does the worst of the damage when we are home! (Although we have been rather slack at getting out for long walks on a regular basis, so maybe it is...) In his defense, I genuinely think he is digging after a mole, or something. I don't think he's just digging for the hell of it. At least, every time I've caught him digging, that's what he's been after.

This week we hired a dog walker, Kristin. (I know, it seems like a luxury, but I'm prepared to try anything.) She is training to be a dog trainer, and is doing some courses on dog psychology. I'm hoping that she can help us get him over this patch and teach him some basic skills. I had planned to take him to dog training classes at one of the local schools, but our finances just don't allow it. From a physical perspective, with my hips having come apart (oh yes, I am now wearing a belt to hold my hips together because otherwise I can't walk!), I simply can't do it. Hence Kristin, the next best thing I figure.

Anyway, she made a really interesting suggestion. She recommended we bury half blown up balloons in the holes. The idea is that next time he digs in his favourite spots, the balloon will be punctured by his digging, burst, and scare the living daylights out of him. Hopefully, he will then be too scared to dig in that spot again, and over time, he should become too scared to dig.

Has anyone else heard of this remedy? Does it work? I dutifully buried a few balloons today, so if and when, I will let you know how it goes!

A mother's work is never done

I hate feeling like I have nothing new or interesting to say, but I'm afraid that's the state of my life at present. I feel sick all the time - whether or not I eat. Practically the only time I don't feel ill is when I'm sleeping. I also feel tired all the time.

And yet life carries on regardless.

Take today, for example. In the space of about 15 minutes I found out that the Bio paper the kids write tomorrow was missing (we found it in the end), and that Nellie was not only running a temperature, but hadn't eaten all day, and was complaining of ear ache. So - Mommy to the rescue! In between trying to drop off patterns with my CMT, dealing with telephonic queries about the nappies (I'm starting to get lots of calls - which is great), keep the dogs from freaking out (they still panic when we leave without them - I eventually resorted to putting them in the car and taking them with me), and collecting Nellie from nursery, my nausea and tiredness don't really have time to feature. I'm not sure whether to be grateful for that or not.

Then, sitting in the doctor's waiting room, Nellie promptly threw up all over me (got very little on herself and just about all of it on me). So rather than sit in an icky shirt, I went into the bathroom and washed it. I figured that sitting in a cold, wet shirt was better than sitting in a warm, wet, smelly and sticky one. Plus, I'm not sure that the smell wouldn't have triggered my own bout of vomiting, and dealing with one person throwing up is bad enough - two in one family is more than I can deal with right now.

Then, home again (jiggedy-jig) to discover that Graeme's brother is ill, and so would rather go for supper at his mother's house than come to us (we were all getting together for supper to say farewell to the other brother who's jetting off East for a few weeks of holiday). Rather than stay and help me, my husband went off to join them... leaving me to clean up the dog's diarrhoea and my daughter's poo in her pants (not that he was aware of this when he left, give him his dues).

So let's just see... to sum up, today I have been vomited on, cleaned up poo pants, and had to clean up diarrhoea, all while trying hard to keep my own bile down and being so tired I feel I could sleep a week, and all on my own. Oh yes, it's definitely been a 'mommy' day.

Which leaves me with only one question (and it's not the one you're thinking... I know why I want another one!) ... how the hell do single parents do this day in and day out????

Sucker for punishment?

Our dogs arrived last night. Baggins is 4 months, and Alyssa is 1.5 yrs. We had a rough time initially - they were extremely restless and nervous. Baggins kept having whining and shaking fits. Heartbreaking, really.

But then, at around 9pm they started to play with each other, and that made ALL the difference. Suddenly they realised that neither of them was alone, and that maybe this new life would be a good one. Incredibly, they went to sleep in the kitchen with barely a fuss. Alyssa whined for all of about 3 minutes, and then neither said a word until we got up this morning (and discovered their little presents on the kitchen mat).

Baggins appears to be house trained to a large extent already (thank God!). He was filthy when I fetched him - covered in fleas and (probably pig) poo. We had to leave the car windows open overnight to get the smell out. Needless to say, he went straight into the bath when we got home. He's a sweet little thing - quite calm when he's not playing with Alyssa. He's already trying to assert dominance over Alyssa, but I think she'll soon stop taking his nonsense. I took him to the vet this morning to get his innoculations (meant to get him micro-chipped, but forgot). The vet seems to think he may also have mange. Great. But we'll soon get him sorted. He's also rather undernourished - his little ribs really do stick out. Other than that though, he's perfectly healthy and very cute. (Not so cute when he refuses his chew toys and chews Nellie's dolls instead!) Good thing he won't be in the house unsupervised.

Alyssa is very nervous. Given her history of abandonment, I'm not surprised. She's also EXTREMELY jealous of Baggins. It has been very tiring trying to manage her while we've been trying to de-flea Baggins. But she is very sweet. The way that she and Baggins play together is also very cute - they are bound to keep each other occupied during the day while we're out.

Anyway, all this running around getting them and handling them in the first few hours, and handling Nellie who doesn't understand why they don't want to play with her (and is VERY upset about that - after all, these are HER dogs!) is exhausting.

Exhausting.

But we start half days at school on Monday, so things are getting easier already.

Dog Number 2??

This cute puppy could be ours.... isn't he sweet?

Dog hunt

We have decided to get Nellie a dog for her birthday. We started out looking for just one dog, but we will be coming home with two. We figure that since we're going to be out all day, the dog should have a playmate to prevent it digging up the garden.

We've now been to 4 different shelters around the Peninsula, looking for the perfect dog pair. We want short-haired, medium-to-large dogs under 2 years of age. Our preference is for a teenager or yearling.

Thus far, we've only found one real possibility - introducing Alyssa. She stands about 50cm high and is about 1.5yrs old. Isn't she cute?

Of course, my heart was stolen by this little puppy, but looking at his mother, he's going to be far too big for our little garden, so we won't be taking him home with us.

So the search continues for a playmate for Alyssa....

A very long post...

Holidays are here! Yay! And the sun was out in force today. It’s been hotting up all week, and I’ve loved it. I even took 2 classes outdoors. (SKOK!) (OK, admittedly, one was because the art room down the corridor were using thinners and I had an asthma attack as a result, so had to evacuate my classroom, but still.) Today was another gorgeous day – one of those beautiful spring days that holds such promise for a fantastic summer. After the final assembly I took to lazing in the sun on the Matric Lawn, waiting for my colleagues to pack up so we could go out for lunch. I kept thinking to myself – there’s no place like home!

Yup, there’s nothing quite like azure (not just blue!) African skies, bright sun, lazing on the thick, dark green lawn, gazing up at the Mountain, feeling the light breeze play over my skin, listening to the birds in the trees… and all accompanied by the lovely smell of diesel fumes from the lawnmower 15m away that sounds like it’s eaten a toaster for lunch and got bits stuck in its teeth. But lawnmower aside, I had the most glorious 20 minutes laze. I haven’t done nothing like that in ages. No books to mark or lessons to prepare, and no other human beings needing or demanding my attention. Glorious! Heavenly! I felt like a student again at the start of the summer holidays – with weeks of summer nothingness ahead.

Of course, being on a lawn, it didn’t take long before I was drumming up earthworms and doing a bit of weeding. I can’t help myself. Really, I can’t. I love weeding (anal, I know, but I do) and I still find earthworms fascinating… the way they wriggle around, the way they feel in your hand, the way their internal structure is designed, the way they mate, their similarity to parasitic worms… Once a biologist, always a biologist I guess.

But it brought back so many happy memories of years gone by and all the hours I spent weeding the lawns with my mother (at the same house Graeme, Nellie and I have just moved into, in fact). This is one the reasons I’ve come home. I want my kids to have the kind of childhood and young adulthood that I had (minus the stuff ups and heart break) – not necessarily weeding the lawns (although I do hope they learn to love gardening), but just having happy times doing ordinary stuff with family. There is nothing so precious! Kids don’t need lots of expensive gadgets – they need love and time and words of affirmation from their family. I want Nellie to have all that.

Much later, after Graeme had collected Nellie, we were all outside on the stoep (porch/ patio) and in the garden, enjoying the late afternoon sun. Nellie was riding her car (she can now push herself forwards, so she doesn’t have to just go in reverse anymore!), I was reading in my rocking chair, and Graeme was practicing his bowling. (Oh, the injustice of SA being out of the twenty 20!) Suddenly I heard this voice – my voice – saying ‘Be careful of Nellie – you don’t want to hit her on the head’ and ‘Don’t throw that on the roof – you’ll crack a tile’, and ‘Don’t bowl in that direction, you’ll hit a car’, and ‘Don’t bowl up against the house – you’ll crack the bricks and we’ll get leaks’. When did I turn into my mother (no offence, Mom – you’re the world’s best mother and I couldn’t cope without you!!)? Not sure, but we did have a really good chuckle about it.

Speaking of sport, I had a lovely evening out earlier in the week. Rondebosch rugby boys are touring in Argentina next year and so have organised a series of fundraisers. One was a ‘Rugby Rules for Girls’ evening, and as I teach some of the boys, I bought a ticket and went along. I was really hoping that they would cover the off-side rule, and when penalties are awarded, and what affects the decision to either kick for the posts or have a line-out, but they didn’t. Never the less, it was a really fun evening.

We had former SA Springbok prop Toks (Albert, I ask you!? A good Afrikaans rugby boy-tjie and his name is Albert! Go figure.) van der Linde and commentator Gary C as the MC’s and they were fabulous. They got women up on stage and taught us how to tackle correctly, scrum and do (is that the correct verb?) a line-out. They also went through the various positions on the field, and the difference between a ruck and a maul. Some of the stuff I already knew, but I definitely learnt stuff. They were a good laugh too, and the food was delicious (Woolies food always is!), so all round it was a great evening. I even managed to teach Graeme something afterwards! Now that’s something.

So – what are my plans for this glorious week of freedom I have ahead? Sadly, very little lying in the sun lazing. No – this week is the time I have to catch up on my business plans that have been on a back burner while I’ve been working and sorting out the house. It is also the time to finish sorting out the house. Our housewarming is next weekend and I’d like the last few boxes and bits and pieces to be done by then.

I’m hoping that the change of scenery and focus will help get me back on an even keel though. I’ve really been struggling with grief again recently. I’m back to being mad with God and therefore not really wanting to talk to him. I know that grief goes in cycles, so I’m not too worried about this; it’s just that it’s hell living through it. I know I will get through this and that at some point in the future I will find a way to live with the pain, to reconcile my (intellectual) faith with my experiences, but right now that’s a bit beyond my capabilities.

I was having a conversation with a colleague at work about this just last week. She lost her dad to cancer a few years back and her faith took a massive blow. Like me, she’s still struggling to find a way to make sense of her pain and her loss, and to reconcile her experiences with her faith. I was deeply pained to hear that her church family told her that the reason her dad died was because she didn’t have enough faith when she prayed for his healing. I know that lots of Christians believe this particular doctrine (and that they fail to temper it with the freewill of the individual or with the effects of the sin of the individual, or with God’s omnipotence) but it still angers me that they could be so unloving as to express it to someone who is grieving. Where is their compassion?

One of the kids in my register class made a comment this week about the Americans remembering their 9/11 dead and he said something to the effect of ‘oh just get over it already – that was 6 years ago!’ I nearly hit the roof! Before I left SA, I didn’t really understand what a big deal WW1 and WW2 were, and every year at the remembrance services I would think pretty much the same thoughts as this kid. Then I went to the UK, where it is a MASSIVE event every year, and slowly, as I absorbed the national culture, I came to understand what a massive impact the wars had on the population, economy and industry in the UK. Then I lost Zoe. On one of the grief message boards I’m part of the rules there state that there is no time-frame by which you are supposed to ‘get over’ your grief, and that therefore no-one should ever tell another member that they ought to be ‘over’ it by now – whether that was 6 months or 60 years after the event.

I understand now what it is to be a loved one left behind after a tragic, unexpected event, trying to move on with life, but never fully able to because someone you love has been prematurely ripped from your life. It doesn’t matter whether that loved one is lost through war, natural disaster, accident, illness or some other tragic circumstance. The fact is that you never forget. You will always remember, and you will always try to celebrate the life cut short. If that loved one is lost in an event that kills hundreds or thousands, then all the loved ones affected may choose to remember together, thus creating a memorial event. To be told to ‘get over it’ is like being told that your loved one no longer has any worth or meaning, and no-one has the right to say that about another person.

I tried to explain this to him, calmly, but either I wasn’t doing a very good job, or he just wasn’t getting it. He kept saying that he’d lost his grandparents, so he knew what it was to lose someone. I kept saying that he obviously didn’t understand the nature of grief if he was able to say he’s lost a loved one and yet can make a comment like that. The more he failed to understand the connection between the two, the more irate I got, until eventually I lost my cool and yelled at him so loudly the entire class (and they are a noisy bunch!) shut up and told him to shut up too. I told him he was being incredibly rude, selfish, inconsiderate and insensitive and that if he ever dared make a comment like that in my class again he need never return to my class – he could sit in the corridor for the rest of the year as far as I was concerned.

By this time, I was just about in tears. I was shaking with anger and grief. I felt like his failure to understand this was such a slap in the face. And something has just occurred to me – he hasn’t been in class since. I’m sure it’s coincidence – he’s probably been bunking school to watch the cricket. Still, I hope something I said, other than the message to get lost, has stuck and given him pause for thought. I shouldn’t have lost my cool. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to take it so personally. But I’m human, and as I said, recently my grief has been very close to the surface. I guess I was a time bomb waiting to explode. Not having the space and time to blog (or write) has curtailed a very important outlet for me.

Not having my London friends around to talk to has been another problem. I don’t think I realised till now just how much I’d been relying on them to help me through this aspect of my grief work. (I miss you guys so much – both my morning GG ladies and my evening GG! You were my lifeline!) I think it’s time that Graeme and I followed up the support group thing here so I have another outlet for my grief. I really don’t want another explosion at a kid (or anyone else, for that matter) because I’m not dealing with my grief very well.

For the moment though, at least I’m back online can blog again. But for those who pray, please keep praying. I know that it can be hard to keep praying the same prayer for the same person over a long period of time, so I appreciate your prayers all the more. In some respects I think the grief only really starts when the world around you starts to forget you are still grieving.

And on the subject of prayer – this was sent to us recently on email. Oh to have the faith of a child (dog)!

Why I love dogs...

OK, so strictly speaking this has absolutely NOTHING to do with Nellie.... but with all the stress of having a toddler while being pregnant and sick, I haven't laughed a lot recently. My thoughtful husband emailed this home to me, and I have to confess this is the first thing in MONTHS that has actually made me laugh out loud when I saw it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!