12 August 2014

Puppy School Dropout

                                  

“You have to move faster than that”, Susan screamed as she panted breathlessly behind us, barking one order after another.
“Now wear something more appropriate next time as you will be doing a lot of crawling around the floor.”
“Your puppy is going to be one confused little girl if she is made to wear a blue collar. Get her a pink one.”
“You have to bring four different types of treats with you. They are just like us you know, they like a choice. ”

Really Susan? A choice?

I stopped to catch my breath and Susan caught up with me and grabbed my arm tightly.  Her gaze held mine and her flushed cheeks seemed to wobble with delight as she ran through her list of acceptable puppy treats.
Unfortunately I stopped listening at the point she mentioned “Kangaroo meat”. 
My mouth remained closed but that voice inside my head was speaking very loudly indeed, ’ I don’t really care how delicious a gaming meat you think it is Susan, I am not feeding a puppy one of our Nations most iconic animals. Eating Skippy? Absolutely not Susan.’

Puppy school is harder work than I thought. Keeping my mouth shut is even harder.
Although I can hardly disagree with Susan when she says, "everyone deserves a good start in life and to learn some manners".

It's only four sessions after all. I can do it….I just need to be on my best behaviour for a few weeks. Perhaps it might help if I have a gin and tonic or two right before classes start (my kind of treat Susan). 

Anyway, I think I am finally understand the meaning of the phrase...it's a dog's life.
Just last week the Vet recommended that Stella should be 'groomed' so that she would get used to it before she gets older. I just didn’t realise that 'grooming' meant a shampoo, cut, blow wave, and manicure.  Stella came prancing out of the RSPCA Pooch Parlour looking like a million dollars. Her blonde hair was silky, shining and smooth. I caught sight of my own dishevelled birds nest reflected in the glass window and, without thinking, asked if I could book myself in for the full works too…if only.

Uh oh Stella.....here comes Susan again….and she is heading our way.

“Oh Stella sweetie pie, tell Grandma she needs to do better than this, she is not running fast enough with you. C’mon Granny, faster, faster.” 

I growled and tried to quicken my pace but that voice in my head was now barking loudly at Susan.

'Just between you and me Susan, Stella is a DOG she cannot tell me anything. And Stella might be the one dragging me around the room but what's with the Granny business? Really Susan? Really?
Sure, we might both be big blondes and yes, I’ve been called a bitch many times but no-one Susan, and I mean no-one, has mistaken me as a close relative of a four legged animal. Ever.

Besides, do you know how hard it is to run around the room when your freaking dog is running in the other direction after Elvis, the little Chihuahua, who is a quarter of her size.  She will not leave him alone.  And look at tiny Jay Z - that dirty dawg. He is jumping on her back every chance he gets. You call this socialisation Susan? I call this violation.

I got the evidence Jay Z - just sayin'
Then, if all that wasn't enough, two mean looking little boxers chased Stella under the lounge and she refused to come out. No amount of pleading, bribing or crying on my part would get her out. I had to crawl under the lounge to drag her out. And Susan perhaps you do have a good point about wearing suitable clothing. It was all rather awkward in that tight skirt.




Suddenly there was a high pitched screech.  “It's time for pee pees, outside puppies". Susan bent down to Stella and squealed excitedly in a high pitched baby voice, “Ok sweetie petutti, time to go outside for pee pees.”  

"Excuse me Susan", I said in a firm voice. "Stella doesn’t know what you mean by 'pee pees'. The only command she knows is ‘go to toilet’.

And then without any hesitation whatsoever, Stella promptly pooped at Susan’s feet. Ooops……..big whoops Stella.

Not our finest moment but, on the upside, at least she obeyed one command during the whole night, well sort ofkind of, nearly.
Something tells me it's going to be a long four weeks……I wonder which one of us drops out first…..Susan, Stella or me. I am betting it’s me..because when I look at the faces of Stella and Susan they seem to be really, really enjoying themselves.




28 July 2014

The Downward Dog

After six months of giving my new house more makeovers than Joan Rivers has had facelifts, and fixating about all the maintenance issues, I  had to STOP and get some perspective.

So what did my daughter suggest? Yoga....Buddhist meditation....and...... would I mind looking after her dog for a while. 

Lovely as that girl is .......I somehow forgot to clarify how long 'a while' is.  

Meet Stella. 

A very busy little Golden Retriever who is doing a sterling job retrieving plants out of my pots. Which is really a bit of a shame given there are many weeds everywhere that could benefit from her skills.

However, I have managed to get my own back. Can you guess at what point in this photo chronology she came to stay with me?




Dress ups are so fun, no? Maybe this will hurry her owner up to come and collect her dog for fear of what "Nanna" is doing to her baby fairydog. She is cute though I will give her that. Plus my plants don't make me laugh out loud like she does.  

I hope, unlike my greenery, you are all well and thriving. 

25 March 2014

It’s the 21st Century, right?

Well the upside of living in the country is that there are lots of cows close by but the downside is that it’s hard to get a stable internet connection.

Yes, apparently it's the 21st Century. Just not everywhere it seems.

However, after much moo-oo-oo-ing on my part, it’s apparently now green lights all the way.

So tell me, now I've rejoined the 21st Century, has anyone else been as obsessed as I have about the missing Malaysian Airlines jet?


I have zillions of pictures taken from plane windows.... I love flying.

It’s extraordinary that in this day and age commercial jets don’t have a requirement to automatically report their speed and position. I just never imagined that a plane could go missing for weeks when we have all this sophisticated technology available to us. Although strangely, in this case, it seems that some countries have not been very forthcoming with satellite data for fear their so called "enemies” may know their full capabilities…sigh


And now sadly the Malaysian Government announced last night that the plane has crashed in the Indian Ocean killing all 239 people on board. This conclusion, without any direct evidence, is all based on seven signals picked up by a private British firm whose satellite data showed that the flight had gone in a southerly path, deep toward the Indian Ocean, and away from any possible landing sites.
The poor passengers, crew and their loved ones. What a rollercoaster it's been.


I hope that in the next few days the weather will co-operate and enable the multinational search crews to find the missing aircraft and establish reasons for the crash.

Our thoughts and prayers are with them all.

And let's do more than hope that all governments legislate for more stringent requirements on aircraft for automatic and independent reporting of location and speed. It’s a small price to pay considering it was five years ago that the Air France flight was lost and it took two long years to find the debris.

I tell you, next time I catch a long haul flight I will not be saying my usual "no" to an alcoholic beverage or two.  


21 February 2014

Dear Pope Francis


 

I know you are a busy man without much time to spare but I am writing to alert you to the existence of a MIRACLE that you most definitely would not be aware of.
To expedite this matter, I have researched the miracle authentication process your organisation uses and I believe that this miracle will indeed stand up to your stringent processes.

It is without a doubt ‘mouth gapingly’ unbelievable.

I  first came across it while I was perusing the Daily Mail newspaper.

I know, please......, please hear me out.
I can understand that right about now you have an overwhelming desire to stop reading and throw this in your wastepaper basket.

Please don't.
I know this tabloid newspaper is a highly unusual and questionable source. However, I keep remembering what I learnt in Bible classes - God is everywhere and in everything. Could that also mean even possibly the Daily Mail?

Since my discovery I have been diligently carrying out my own authentication process. First, I asked a cross section of the public for their honest views about “my find”. And even though people initially took a quick look and then fobbed me off because of my so called “willingness to see the common in an uncommon way”, I persevered.
In order to ensure against any self deception, I then asked ten extremely vain people with a great deal of scientific and practical knowledge in this area, to repeatedly look at this miracle from all angles to see if they saw the same phenomenon I did. (Please note that being the professional I am I did not just rely on the impaired vision of my middleaged friends. I had the foresight to borrow my neighbour's magnifying glass to give this exercise the kind of accuracy and precision it warranted.)

I am delighted to report that every single person agreed with me. Without exception.

I have therefore come to the conclusion that what I see is definitely no illusion. It is indeed a miracle. A miracle that cannot be ascribed to the laws of nature or even human powers.  In this particular case, there has definitely been a supernatural intervention by a MIRACLE WORKER.

So, well ....  

The bottom line Frank is that once you look at this wonder I need the miracle worker’s name and contact details. Pronto.

I am not just asking for purely selfish reasons because hell, as we all know,  vanity is one of the seven deadly sins isn't it? I am actually asking for the benefit of all the millions of aging people across the world who look in the mirror every morning and want to know who that stranger is staring back at them.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Here it is.

The Miracle unveiled.

 


 
Can you please tell me how Christie Brinkley looks like this at 60 years old? I am sure you will agree it is a Miracle. Problem is,  she ain’t sayin’ nothin’.

 

Kind Regards

Lilly

(PS. This letter is not designed to make fun of the Pope. He is an absolute breath of fresh air who would probably have a laugh too).