I'd Like to File A Complaint Please.

"I'd like to file a complaint please."

 

If my pets could speak English, I'm pretty sure that this statement would cross their cute little lips several times a day.  This is not a judgement on my pet-parent abilities, it's perhaps just a gentle nudge to let me know that there may be room for improvement.

My pets are spoiled, there is no arguing with that.  Not spoiled in the way that they are allowed to be overweight and unhealthy, or that they have complete run of the house (okay, this may apply to the cats...but we all know that they have their own set of rules), but just that they are treated with a lot of love and attention, and I like to keep them happy. My husband wishes he was my pet....

If I had to analyse it, I think the top complaints to Management would look like the list below.

1.  You are much too slow with my food. 

This complaint comes mostly from the cats, who run back and forth vocalising to get my attention, but it could just as easily apply to the dogs.  Even if they have been fed, those little brats will approach the pet owner that didn't feed them and start carrying on about how they are STARVING and how no one has fed them.  They are liars and not to be believed.  I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but we have been tricked more than once into feeding them a second breakfast or dinner, and I fear that we will fall victim to their wicked ways a few more times.

2.  Why do you not get up from the lounge to let me out the minute I even decide to think about going outside? 

This is the cats, obviously.  I don't think the dogs think that far ahead.  Clawde is known for going in and out and in and out and in and out, and that's just in the space of half an hour.  If you do not bend to his will, he starts jumping up on stereo speakers and then pretending that he is going to jump up on the big TV. That works - we get up and swear at him, but he gets his way.  I suppose we'll have to do better in the future.

3.  Why do you not wake up at 2 am to let me back in/out?

Not Clawde, because he does this at 3 am and I'm too asleep to grab my phone.

Again, mostly Clawde.  If I don't immediately wake from my slumber to open the door for His Majesty, he jumps up onto the sliding screen door, hanging on with his claws and climbing up and/or down, making the most hideous sound.  Yikes, that works too (except when I've clipped his nails, then I hear a very satisfying 'thunk' as he lands back on the floor...ha ha, one point to me!).  If I don't get up to let the dogs out the minute that they leave their beds, there is the rhythmic beat of their tails on the walls to wake me, and then the not so subtle doggy-breath face wash.  Yes, that gets me up too.

4.  How dare you make the bed without my assistance? 

Excuse me??  Are you making the bed?

As you have guessed, this is mostly Purrkins, who takes great delight in helping me out with any housework, but particularly bed making.  See below for the look on his face when he discovers that bed-making has occurred without his management.

5.  Your cuddles today have been a bit sparse. 

An upside down dog is a cute dog.

Yes, that worked well.

All of my pets like lots and lots of cuddles, except perhaps for Chamois, who is quite an independent dog.  If Manu has not been receiving as much attention as he thinks he needs (just a heads up, he never receives as much attention as he thinks he needs!), he will let you know that he is WAY too cute not to cuddle by laying upside down in a room.  It may not be the room that you are in at the time, but he knows that you will have to walk by him at some point.  Upside down bellies always get scratches eventually - you just have to lie there long enough.  Purrkins is much less subtle and will plonk himself onto your lap, no matter where you are or what your are doing or if you are allergic to cats (poor Shawn!).  That cat is a problem solver.



Chamois says she can do upside down too.

6.  Why is the chicken coop not open and our freedom granted?

The girls get louder and Harvey Henbanger crows louder and longer.  Eventually I cave in and they get to come out.  They cluck away and admonish me as they run up the yard, chasing bugs and tasty delights.

After much thought, Management has reviewed the complaints and would like to take a neutral stance.  While these may seem like big issues to the non-humans, Management believes that the complainees should go out into the real world and see how other cats/dogs/chickens live.  Management believes that the residents have a pretty good life and really don't want for much.  As they say, if that's all you have to complain about, life is pretty damn good.

 

 
 
 
 

Friday Follies - Some Fatherly Advice



With Father's Day looming this weekend (in the Southern Hemisphere), I thought it might be a good time to reflect on fathers, because, well, we all have them in one form or other.  Whether they be still with us, no longer with us, present, absent, biological fathers, stepfathers.....we all have them.


Cute!



I've only ever had one father in any form, so I can only speak to that experience.  My dad was always full of 'fatherly' advice, as I'm sure yours was too.  I wouldn't say that it was always good, but it was always there and definitely plentiful.  You didn't have to ask for it either, it was freely given.

Recreation of me winning a fight
with my brother

I think as a small child, the advice you get is fairly basic (and probably not always true...you see, my face DIDN'T freeze that way, thank you very much) and often revolved around safety and manners.  Don't touch that. Say please.  See if you can figure it out yourself first.  Don't hit your brother in the testicles, it's a sensitive area on a boy (yes, I remember that one.  I'm not sure if the result was what Dad intended, but it did clue me in to the fact that if I wanted to win a fight, I should knee my brother in the nuts.....  Thanks Dad!).  And so on.....

As I got older, the advice changed and became more age appropriate.  I usually did quite well in school (I didn't dare not to - both of my parents were teachers), and would get quite upset if I bombed a test or didn't get assignments handed in in time.  I can remember in junior high school, I had a particular English teacher that gave me 60% on every assignment and exam, no matter how hard I tried.  Previously, I had received excellent marks in English (again, Dad was an English teacher, what could I do - although I think he cringes at my use of language these days.) and had teachers that encouraged me to investigate professions such as journalism (Dad was a journalist too early in his career...oh dear!).  I approached Dad to help me with my English class so that I could get better marks.  No matter how hard I tried - 60%.  Dad was getting frustrated too, so being a Shakespeare fan, he did one of my assignments for me.  Guess what?  He got a 60%.  Dad's advice after that was 'Screw it, just do your best.'  I did, and never got better than a 60%.  Thanks Mrs Batey.

To be or not to be 60%

And then the teenage years hit, and quite frankly, my Dad's advice was not welcome.  I pretty much viewed him as someone who didn't understand and would never understand.  Now that I know the stories from his wayward youth, I probably should have listened to his advice and might have saved myself a lot of pain.  But we have to learn our own lessons, don't we?

As I slid ungracefully into adulthood (the teen years were not my best), I realised that this old guy actually knew what he was talking about.  He was still full of shit, but he knew what he was talking about.  He has taught me not to worry about the small things, just do my best and it will all work out.  He has taught me that it is more than okay to fail, you need to fail to grow.  He has taught me the importance of family and friends, and that you don't need a lot of friends, as many will come and go throughout your life organically, but there will always be some very true friends.  He has taught me how to expect to be treated by a man and that I am worth something.

Perhaps one bit of advice he has given me always gives me a giggle.  It's not appropriate for every occasion, but I do like to pull it out of my hat once in awhile.  "A faint heart never f**d a pig."  Eloquent, to say the least.  So take that risk, face that challenge, because you need to be brave, and even if it doesn't work out, at least you tried, and that's more than some people ever do.

Thanks Dad, and Happy Father's Day to all the fathers out there in all of their wonderful forms.  And Happy Father's Day to all the pet-parents too!.



Happy Father's Day!



Harvey Henbanger - The Evolution of a Rooster

Harvey Henbanger

Harvey Henbanger has been introduced to you before.  He continues to fascinate me as he grows into his role as protector of the flock and provider for his small little harem.

Growing up, Harvey was always happy to play second fiddle to Uno, the more dominant rooster.  He let Uno do the hard work, watching over everything, crowing his dominance in reply to the neighbourhood roosters and generally making sure that all was well and stable in the group.  Harvey let Uno take on the stressful role, while he quietly hung around and had his way with the girls behind Uno's back.  It was a good life for him.

As he got a bit older, he started to challenge Uno and there were few chest bumping disputes, but Harvey would always back down (and quickly fornicated with a hen behind Uno's back...that'll teach him!).

Sadly we are only allowed one rooster on our property, so we had to say goodbye to one.  I had chosen to keep Harvey because a) he was a bit more laid back than Uno, and hopefully would never decide to challenge and attack me, and b) he was prettier (sorry Uno, but I had to find a way to pick!).  Fortunately we found Uno a home at a place that is basically a rooster rescue refuge.  He got to keep his head and his life, and that made me happy. After all, Uno was a great rooster and it wasn't his fault.

Where are my girls?

The absence of Uno left a gaping hole in the leadership of the flock.  Not used to having to take charge, Harvey knew he had to step up, but it was clear that he didn't have a clue.  If he did, he didn't have the confidence to put it all into place.  The Evolution of Harvey Henbanger has been an enjoyable and entertaining time for me as he has finally blossomed into a pretty cool rooster.

At first, Harvey couldn't keep his girls together. I think they knew he wasn't a good leader, so they scattered around the yard, doing their own thing and ignoring him.  I was impressed at their ignoring skills as he raced from one end of the yard to the other, yellow legs pumping at full speed, wings held just slightly away from his body, and his comb and wattle flopping to and fro as he tried to figure out just how to get the girls to pay attention.  Sometimes in the middle of his travels, an airplane or helicopter would go overhead, and he set off after it in a completely different direction.  He certainly got his exercise.

Clearly the girls had little respect for him as he did his rooster dance, hoping for a bit of female affection.  They usually just walked away, pecking casually at the grass, looking completely disinterested.  Not that that stopped him, he'd still hop up on them when their backs were turned.  No one had ever discussed consent with him, I'm guessing.

Some of the girls even had the audacity to do the rooster dance around him, showing him who was really the boss.  Harvey just seemed a bit lost and confused and you could tell that he was not confident.

Hello neighbours!

As time as passed, he has figured things out and is a lovely and gentle leader.  As the hens emerge from whatever plant is the popular egg-laying spot for the week, singing the song of their people in a loud and might voice.  Harvey once again takes up his running at full speed, chasing the hen.  But this time it is to quickly jump on her and fertilise her again.  He knows that the hen has a fresh egg brewing in there and it must be claimed.

In the mornings when I take them scraps from the kitchen, he always picks up something that he considers particularly tasty, makes a lovely clucking sound, places it near one of the girls, and steps back as if to say 'Look at the lovely treat I have provided for you'.  He won't start eating until he has made sure that all of the girls are eating and looked after.  Truly a gentleman. 



He now takes command of the girls, and if there is a suspect noise, or he thinks there is a threat, he gathers them up, jumps up onto a rock or tree stump for a better perspective and makes sure that all is well and danger is averted. When the neighbourhood roosters crow, he crows back with confidence (even though he does have the worst crow I have ever heard....it's more of a screech.)

You call that a crow?



It's clear that even though he's not a year old yet, Harvey Henbanger is very confident of his job and his place in the world.  He has a gentle manner and I don't feel like he will challenge me. He must know that I admire his character, and I am quite proud of his progress.  Well done Harvey, may you have a long life filled with yummy treats and lots of girls to dance around.  Mummy thinks you are pretty cool! 

Who's a pretty boy?

 

 

 

Friday Follies - It's Great to be Grateful

Who doesn't love Winnie-the-Pooh?

Getting caught up in life's little annoyances and problems is unavoidable, but I think Winnie-the-Pooh had the right idea.  Gratitude can change everything.  We all fall into the trap of letting inconsequential hiccups cause much more grief than necessary. I know with myself, I can slide down this slippery-slope very easily and quickly.  As reflected in the lovely silver 'wisdom' hairs on my head, I'm much older now, and have learned that it's not worth the energy to let these things affect me more than they should. 

Sometimes when I'm just minding my own business, thankfulness for my life whacks me across the face like being slapped with a big, wet fish.  It's pretty hard to ignore.

Some things I'm grateful for....

- As I age, my body is changing in ways that I don't appreciate and quite frankly, horrify me.  But it all works (mostly) and I am grateful that I am mobile, semi-sane (matter of opinion) and reasonably healthy.

- People irritate the shit out of me in general and I don't have a very active social life (okay, that's not a negative - I'd be a hermit if I could), but I have many, many good friends that I know I can rely on.

- Although I may not have as many pets as I dream of, but I have changed the world for the pets that I do have and have had, and hope with all of my heart that I am giving them the best, most loved life possible.

- Work annoyances usually don't bother me, as it's just work.  This week I've had to have a stern talk with myself to remind me of the positives of my job. It has been a week of observing an overbearing bully attack most of the staff at one point or another.  All I can do is just quietly smile, remind myself that it doesn't matter, and am quietly satisfied that my life is a heck of a lot better than hers and she clearly has a very sad internal life.

- I have made some poor decisions in life (and I am VERY grateful that most of mine were made before social media....I dodged a bullet there!), and when I look back on some of mine, I can only cringe and push these memories back into the box in my mind that keeps them hidden away from sight.  I prefer to focus on some of my better decisions, such as moving to Australia to spend more time with my family. Not only have I enjoyed the company of my parents (yes, I actually like them and consider them my friends - don't tell that to my teenage self, she would never believe you in a million years) and I am happy that they are still in good health. Many others of the same age have increasingly declining health or are no longer with us.  My move to Australia also means that I no longer have to endure the torture of long, dark, bitterly cold winters, for which I am so, so thankful (did I mention that I was thankful?)!  The thought of never having to shovel a driveway again is a very nice thought indeed.

- And, of course, my decision to move halfway across the world meant that I met my ever-suffering husband, and we are still together and in what I consider (and hope he does to!) a solid, healthy and loving marriage.  We drive each other crazy sometimes and push each other's buttons, but we are a team, and a pretty good one at that.

My father gave me some advice at once when I was wallowing in the depths of despair and bemoaning my life (also known as being a 'drama queen' according to my dad) that I still use today and find incredibly useful at putting things into perspective.  "When something happens, think about how it will affect you.  Will it still matter 5 minutes from now, 5 days from now, 5 months from now or 5 years from now?  Give it the attention it deserves."  As soon as I remind myself of this, it becomes easier to let the small irritations go and remember that everyone is dealing with their own crap.  I'm pretty sure that none of these will be brought up at my funeral, so in the immortal words from Frozen, I'll let it go.

"Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings." William Arthur Ward

"Let us be grateful for people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom." Marcel Proust

Same, Same but Different - Dogs vs Men

In a previous blog post, I compared cats with peri-menopausal women.  It's only fair that I now point the finger at dogs and men.  For those overly-sensitive males out there, please don't take it to heart, it's just a bit of fun, even if it really is almost 100% true.





FARTING

Any list that starts with farting is a good list in my book.  I dare you to find me a man that isn't completely enchanted and beguiled by his own farts.  They seem to be so extraordinarily proud of what is a normal bodily function.  They have no shame.  And neither do dogs.  As an owner of two extra-large canines (plus a husband), our living room can get quite hazy with the fog of farts and flatulence that emit from the male orifices.  It can be quite noxious.  Anyone that has big dogs know that not only do their farts smell, they are loud.  Sometimes there is a cacophony of cheek-flappers assaulting my ears in the evening.  Men are also very proud of their loud flatulence, and usually give you a sly look to ensure that you noticed.  We notice men, we notice.

HUMPING

Dogs will hump almost anything - other dogs, cats, human legs.  Men won't hump anything, but.....

THREATENED BY THEIR OWN KIND

Dogs will approach a new dog with caution, making sure that the new dog is not a threat and won't upset their place in the world.  Men approach other men in the same way, circling each other like dogs but without the bum sniffing.  Thankfully, men, like dogs, usually make friends easily and all the posturing comes to nothing.

TERRITORIAL MARKING

Why is it that men get such a kick out of peeing everywhere but the toilet.  'Because they can' is the most appropriate reply (and as a female, yes, I do get a bit jealous of that).  Dogs love to mark out their territory with the cock of a leg and a squirt of urine, full of informative data for other dogs.  When we  have other dogs come to stay, it becomes a great game to pee over top of the other dog's pee, and it becomes this endless circle of  urination.  Same goes for a man peeing in the yard - the dogs, particularly Manu, cannot wait to pee in the same spot.

IF YOU GIVE THEM ATTENTION, THEY WILL FOLLOW YOU ANYWHERE

It doesn't take much - some subtle eye contact, a smile and a gentle touch and they are yours.

BOTH HAVE TO BE TRAINED

When you first get a puppy or a man, they are very excitable and burst with enthusiasm, but really don't know how to behave properly or what is socially acceptable behaviour.  With lots of work, love, encouragement and positive reinforcement, both can be trained. Up to a point.

FASCINATION WITH CROTCHES

I don't think I need to elaborate on this one.

At the end of the day, we couldn't live without either of these lovely creatures, could we?