Billy and the Blue Bottle Kiss...

This arvo, I went to the beach for Billy's daily walk.  I went to get Billy out of the car and realised I hadn't put his collar on.  I considered turning around, going home, getting the collar and coming back, but I thought 'nah fuck it'... Bill jumped out of the car and we started down the beach.

There were a couple of car tracks on the beach... as I've mentioned before Billy likes to sniff the trail.  So, he was walking 50 metres or so towards the dunes from where I was - wading through the water at ankle height.  He dropped his ball (which he proudly parades around in his mouth and drops when he feels like having me throw it - oh yeah, I'm a slave to the furry baby).  I walked toward him to grab the ball and as I did he picked up something with his mouth.  I thought it must have been a dead fish... so I yelled 'drop it'... and for once, he actually dropped it.  As it feel from his mouth I felt the pit of my stomach tie up in a big fat knot...

Billy had his first 'Blue Bottle Kiss' and I'm not talking about the cool 90s indie band...

 The wind blows them into the shallow waters and up onto the shore over the summer months...  The little bastards will still sting even when dead.... and it's NASTY!  Thankfully not life threatening... but super painful!  And my poor Billbo had been stung... in his mouth! 

He ran down the beach to me, looking at me while meekly while swallowing deeply.  Then he vomited up a saliva spew... sat down for a minute while doing the pre-vomit (his body uncontrollably convulsing back and forth) before hurling up his breakfast.  We turned around to head back and he seemed fine, other than obsessively licking his lips, slowing down every couple of minutes while his head shot forward and back like a chicken (I know that feeling all too well).

Finally, with my heart racing, we got back to the car.  I filled an ice cream container with fresh cold water nd my little man began to drink and drink and drink!  Poor little Bill was salivating like me each and every time I visit a better than good retro/vintage furnishing store.  His tongue hanging out - very red - and dripping with saliva.  A quick stop at the Vet confirmed my thoughts... Cold water and lots of it.  I also gave him some watered down milk with ice blocks as a little treat.

He is much better now and back to his happy, panting (but not dripping saliva) self.  Poor baby Bill!  Hopefully he has learnt his lesson... but some how, I don't think will be his last Blue Bottle Kiss!

My Bambino

So... I'm now officially a mother, of the four legged variety. Had an awesome birthday... Friday night Micko and I got a little smashed watching Muse on our other new pride and joy (the 50 incher). Woke up bright, early and little scratchy to go and meet my future baby.

Arriving at Billy's foster families beautiful home in Grafton around 10ish, we head through the side gate, when around the corner came bounding the strangest dog I've ever seen. He's black, with a kind of Kelpie head and a white strip on his forehead, a bit of white under his chin and neck and the biggest paws I've ever seen. He has the most beautiful, and kindest, eyes. I fell in love instantly.

The lady, Janette, who runs the Grafton Animal Rescue centre is seriously one of the loveliest people I've come across... she is totally and utterly dedicated to those animals and I totally and utterly thank her for it from the bottom of my heart. Bills foster Mum was a gorgeous girl, Ellen and he was very smitten with her. I was initially concerned he might not warm to me... but I was very wrong.

We jumped in the car to head home and I sat in the back with Billster. He sat with his head on my lap, looking up at me with his big brown eyes, melting my heart, all the way home. That afternoon, we took him for a bit of a walk along the board walk and the island and grabbed a couple of DVD's for a quiet night in.

Billy has settled in quite well... He looooves cuddles and attention and is picking things up quickly. He is toilet trained (thank god) and hasn't had a single accident inside. He sits at his mat to eat and only leaves once finished. Once we reach the gutter of a street, he'll sit at our feet and wait for a call before crossing the road. He's a pretty intelligent little bugger.

The only problem is his separation anxiety. He cannot be out of eyeshot of either Michael or I. He whines continually if I leave him anywhere or close the door. I'm working through some techniques to desensitise him at the moment, but I have a feeling it may take a while. He is improving... for example, right now I'm in my office on the computer and he has wandered into the back yard to chew on a bone - which is a new development! He, at first, would never stray from underneath my feet. Also, ont he positive side, he goes to sleep fine in the other room... so I'm very hopeful for a good recovery.

Besides, the clinging thing does come with benefits! Especially when down the beach or in the rainforest... without his leash on, you know he is going to stick to the path (in the rainforest) and not run off k's down the beach chasing after a bird, a person, or a dog. He is very cautious with all his encounters.

And really, is it any wonder the poor bugger has a few abandonment issues?

Left as only a small puppy to fend for himself, rescued and placed in a foster home, only for us to come and take him away. He must feel that the good times won't last. But they will... and things are only going to get better for this little tyke! Stitches come out Saturday morning and Billbo can go as crazy as he wants - perhaps even a swim while we're walking. Oh and a much needed bath! He'll always have food on hand whenever he wants, toys to play with, walks 2 to 3 times a day and more cuddles and love than any dog could ever need. And why the hell shouldn't he? Is he any less deserving of love than any other dog?

See... Animal Cruelty is one of my other pet hates (and before you bring up my bird incident - I never intended those poor helpless birds an ounce of harm). When I look into his gorgeous eyes, I see a puppy who would not hurt a fly (I've taken to call him Hindu-billboo), a loyal and trusting animal who offers unconditional love - often thats much more than a human is capable of.

Billy was one of the lucky (very lucky) animals who was rescued and put into foster care. The vast proportions of abandoned animals aren’t that lucky. Around a quarter of a million dogs and cats are killed each year in pounds and shelters because suitable homes are not found. This does not include animals put down by their owners at Vet Clinics, pets that are dumped and never found, turn feral or in small rescue groups.

Why is this so? Because people over breed, don't desex, buy their dogs in the pet shop and don't fully consider the big picture (of course there are always exceptions). Rescue Centres are not for profit organisations, full of fabulous people who would give their right arm to find a dog a loving home and deserve your support. So, next time you're looking for a new addition to the family, take a trip to the pound or find a rescue centre (many will ship your new pet interstate). And they can always use monetary donations, food, pet care products, beds, blankets, collars, leads, foster parents, etc. If you'd like to show Janette your support, visit her site http://www.simplesite.com/graftonanimalrescue/

My life has certainly been enriched by this precious young boy. Never again will he feel unwanted, afraid and alone or unloved... and for that matter, neither will I!

Doggy Do's and Doggy Don'ts

The 25th July marks 32 years service on planet earth (some might disagree believing I'm from another planet altogether but I swear it's true). Usually, this auspicious occassion is celebrated thoroughly with a bunch of good mates and a shitload of piss. This year, is a little different.

Every single birthday has had a party attached to it... and oh, they've been good! This year? It seemed there'd be nothing, nilch, nada! I thought I'd be spending it with Micko at home alone. I was planning on heading up to Byron and catching up with a few mates over a few cold ones at my old local, but Splendour is on (spend a few birthdays there) so not only will it be mad busy, but a few are heading out to Belongil for what I expect will be another cracker of a year. I felt like a kid whose been told Santa doesn't exist and so Christmas takes on a different feeling... There's no real excitement to it anymore. It's sparkle fades and although the presents are great, the magic is missing.

But out of the darkness, came some light... a little bambino by the name of Billy - a bitza 4 month old beauty. Micko knows what my birthday means to me and knew I'd be a little down on the day so he organised us to get a dog! We found Billy online, he'd been taken from his Mum and left to fend for himself in the depths of winter... they doubt he would have lasted another night out there alone. We rang immediately to inquire if he was still available. The lady, from the rescue centre, told us that he was supposed to be heading down to Sydney to a family next week. However, the family rang that morning to let her know they could no longer take him on - they had moved into a unit which was not pet friendly. She was devasted and said our call was the best thing that had happened all day. So, on Saturday we take the 1 1/2 hour drive north to Grafton to pick the little fella up.

Micko and I have talked of getting a dog for the longest time and we always knew that we get one from a rescue centre or the pound - it was a given. The hardest part is, once you arrive, you want to take more than one. In fact, you want to take them all home! Even just looking at the rescue centre website, it's hard not to think too yourself 'perhaps I could take 2 or 3'. It's a little bitter sweet... you are doing your part by saving one, but what about all the other beautiful dogs waiting patiently for someone to love them. You kind of feel helpless and that you need to be doing more.

So, Saturday marks a couple of milestones... My 32nd birthday, the first without a party, and entry into the world being a responsible human being. I'm very excited to finally meet our precious practise baby!

Both Micko and I are both dog people all the way! Besides the fact that I'm allergic to cat hair, I find cats scary! Their lack of loyalty, sly nature and unexplained, sporadic attacks make me feel on edge around them. I don't like them all of a sudden running out from under the couch to attack and scratch the fuck out of my legs... in fact I hate the 'surprise' element a cat brings. Birds aren't really my strong point either! I like birds... I think they are beautiful creatures, but one incident has marred my belief in my ability to care for them.

I once had 2 beautiful canaries - Rico and Rana... They were orange in colour and lived in a blue cage. I'd feed them and change their water daily and loved them to bits. Then, my partner at the time and I moved house. I put the cage in the outside laundry (which was completely removed from the house). A week or two later, I was shopping at Carribean markets in Melbourne with one of my best girlfriends. Shopping is one of our favourite bonding exercises and we were having a great time! I even had a psychic reading - was utter bullshit - even though I had a, quite visable, gold chain with a camera charm hanging off it, she leapt into a story that involved me being a nurse!?! 

Then we walk towards the pet section and I notice the bird cages... Something clicks inside me and I feel very cold all of a sudden (I'm sure my heart stopped momentarily). Fuck!!!!! My canaries! The colour drained out of my face, I looked at my shopping buddy and said 'Oh my GOD! The canaries! I've gotta go!' and I bolted out as fast as my tree stump legs could take me. I arrived home, ran to the laundry and there were my 2 beautiful orange canaries... upside down on the floor of the cage. I started to cry... 'I've fucken killed them! I'm a murderer!' I thought to myself. Then I flew into protection mode, if my partner of the time found out all hell would break loose. He had forgotten they'd existed so I grabbed the cage and hid it behind the garage. My girlfriend rang to see what the verdict was... I told her I was a murderer and had killed them and she started to piss herself laughing. Then I did the unthinkable - I started to laugh. Man! I felt like some evil bastard, cackling at the thought of my 2 dead canaries. I've never forgiven myself... although whenever I tell the story, I always get a good laugh.


You're probably all sitting with your mouth gaping open in absolute horror at my blasé retelling of the moment I killed two innocent animals and I can imagine you're now thinking am I capable of raising a dog? Well, I am... I've had many pets throughout my life, 4dogs, a few blue tongue lizards, a couple of stumpy tails, a turtle and my 2 aforementioned birds and the birds are the only ones that ever came to harm. Now my belief, surrounding birds is, 2 birds in the bush is far better (and safer) than 2 in my hand! Let me assure you little Billy, couldn't be in better (or safer) hands! I'm going to love that little fella like it was my of my own blood. Besides... with a dog, you can't forget it's there! It just won't let you!