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!

Bill Bailey

Couldn't help but share a few cute as pics of my furry baby...  Saturday arvo, after I'd consumed 2 bottles of champas watching the Spring Racing carnival, I got a little snap happy!

Billy and his first 'big boy' bone!

Everybody loves a front door dog (that wasn't meant to sound rude - but somehow did)

Ahhhhhh... This is why I love him so much!  Look at that lovely happy face! 

Look what Billbo found down the beach... which explains his sandy tears -  is it a finger?  is it a detachable penis?

Nah.. it's not really either - its something that came in the bone bag from the butcher...

hang. on. a. second!!!

Who loves ya baby

I was looking at Billy, lying on the floor in our bedroom, while I was changing into my gym gear... Then I opened my mouth and out came... 'Who loves ya baby, who really loves ya baby...'


So, you're probably thinking... What the fuck?  What is that song?


Here is a sample for those Debbie Gibson virgins out there...





As you can see... it's quality with a capital Q!


Well, the surprising thing is that I don't think I've heard it since around 1988 but I immediately knew who sang it and most of the words...   It's from her only album (? well the only one I had), Electric Youth.... Featuring such gems as the title track, Electric Youth and Lost in Your Eyes.


This raised an unanswered question for me...   What happens to out of date music?  When even the AM or easy listening stations won't touch it, does it become obsolete?  When they are no longer in print, what happens?  Do albums and artists go to record heaven (or hell)...  Do they disappear into obscurity never to be seen, or heard again (expect by those few who didn't throw them out in utter disgust during their grunge stage)?   I guess, if you're that desperate you could always keep searching ebay until something comes up, but it's kind of missing the point of my rant.


I've plenty of cassettes that are lying in landfill somewhere because I felt they followed me around like a bad smell... not to mention if someone had found them hidden away in the back of my closet, I would have been totally embarrassed and lost any ounce of cred I had!  Some such titles included:  Bros (it was a special Christmas edition that had Silent Night at the end), Banarama, Icehouse, Mel & Kim, Rick Astley, the aforementioned Debbie Gibson...


Then there were gems, that disappeared, never to show their face again!  Kids in the Kitchen (perhaps that should fall in the above category), 1927 (recently got 'Ish' on CD - thanks ebay), and more recently... The Fauves - Future Spa ( I was hunting down a copy for my little bro's wedding but alas, no longer in print - and not on itunes).


Which kind of brings me to my next point (I'm a little scattered today so forgive the to-ing and fro-ing) I'm a hard copy kind of woman... I have downloaded a few albums from itunes, but I like to have the album art and a physical copy - if it's an album I think will be a cracker.  I am kind of hoping that the online music world will open up a few more doors for out of print music... I understand that music is out of print because its no longer selling great volumes... Well, there's nothing to lose having it online then is there?  Only money to make!


Well... that's about all I have time for today.  Billy is looking at me with his 'take me for a walk you arsehole' eyes!  Poor bastard has been sleeping all day waiting for me to finish my shitload of recording and editing... and a little blogging.


I''ll leave you with this piece of closet gold!

Weekends are for F.U.N!

Billy and his new best friend Zac

Had a really great weekend!  Friday night, Micko and I had a few drinks, he cooked up prawns wrapped in prosciutto on the barbie for me and we watched Foo Fighters... woke up Sat morn, took Billy for a walk then headed into Coffs to do a spot of shopping.  Dropped into my favourite antique shop and picked out a table for the spare room - it's awesome!  Also, bought myself a new watch.  I've been wanting a watch for ages, haven't had one for the past 3 or 4 years.  Still need to work on breaking the 'what time is it' habit.  On the way home we grabbed a couple of DVD's, had a few frozen Cosmo's and some shitty food.

I'm a shit pick when it comes to selecting a great movie!  I always end up with the dodgy one of the bunch.  This time I chose Synecdoche, New York, a Charlie Kaufman film starring Phillip Seymour Hoffman.  Bit full on for a relaxed Sat night, but I did kind of enjoy it.  Ever since studying film theory at Uni, I hardly ever enjoy watching an art house flick - I think all the 'juxtaposition' talk switched something important in my brain off so I didn't have to listen to wankerspeak anymore.

But I digress... the film was enjoyable and from what I understand, is primarily about interconnectivity.  That we are all the same, we share the same experiences, feel the same emotions and although we are individuals, we kind of morph in and out of one another.  I guess, what I'm trying to say is that the basis of our lives are all the same... We are born, we live, we learn, we die - and during this time, we all feel sadness, loneliness, happiness and love.  There really isn't a great deal that makes you different to anyone else walking around the planet - expect for experience and perspective.  Woah man... that was deep!  After watching it, Micko and I discussed what kind of creative nutbag/total unit you would have to be to come up with the basis for the film.

Sunday we headed up to see some mates, C&V, that live at Arrawarra.  Watched the NRL GF at one of their friends places... Ate like Kings, drank like fish!  C&V have a daughter, Georgia (very cute kid) and a Zac (staffie x black lab).  Billy and Zac are totally best friends now!  Billy was sooooo buggered from playing with Zac from 4 till around midnight, he did nothing but sleep and laze around yesterday - thankfully cause that's all we felt like doing too!

Woke up Monday a little worse for wear...  When I'm a little fragile, I cant. stop. eating!  We made a Hungry Jacks pitstop for a double bacon cheeseburger deluxe meal (oh yeah 60+ grams of fat).  Then I hoed into a bunch of little boys (you know those little footy francs that are all pigs foot and arse)... Followed by some crispy noodle salad (at least I got one vegetable in) and a couple of caramel crunch ice creams... Oh yeah, and I drank about 2 litres of Mountain Dew.  Fuck me!  That sounds seriously disgusting!  I feel dirty!  I feel dirty!  My stomach was actually hurting from not just the quality of the food, but certainly the quantity!  I gotta stop doing that to myself!  Thankfully, it's only part of the nasty hangover territory so doesn't happen all that often.

So, I guess in a nutshell I had a fucken rad long weekend!  But I will be working hard at gym (already did some serious sweating at boxing this morning, I'm about to go for a walk with Bill and I've got Boot Camp tonight)... Now, I just need a week of detox to recover!  Unfortunately, me and detox go together like a hangover and no junk food - never going to happen!

Kip and Nip

Funny thing... had to share!

This morning we were a little hungover from last night beers, ciggies and the quality time spent with Dave Grohl - unfortunately, he wasn't here... but my TV is so friggin big it feels like he was!   Billy came in for a morning cuddle and a bit more sleep - was a late one for the little fella. 

It was pretty warm last night, so Micko slept on top of the doona.  Bill is a real little licker... he loves to lick hands, feet, legs and face.  So while we are showering him with cuddles and pats, he is licking away like a mad man.  Then... he gives Micko's nipple a lick, followed closely by a front tooth nibble.  Ouch!  Glad it wasn't me!  We both cracked up laughing.  I'm not sure whether it was Billy or Micko who felt more violated.

The Cat Vs Dog debate

I'm soooooo not a cat person! 

There are 3 main factors...

1. Allergies... I suffer madly from Hayfever (much better since the move north) they make me sneeze and itch like a bitch.

2. Fear Factor... they are unpredictable and I hate the 'pounce factor'!  Leave my fucking feet alone!  I'm also not a fan of cat scratches.

3. Loyalty... need I say more.  I'm dog all the way!  Cats are like cynical, cold people and I hate both of those traits in people... I don't need to keep company with an animal that looks at me like I'm a fuckwit.

So, when I stumbled upon this blog... I started to feel itchy all over!  Freeeaks!

One Hour of Heavy Petting

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I'm now going to cuddle my dog and let him lick my face.

Up shit creek

Another adventure during Dale & Kat's visit was a boat outing we took on the Sunday.  It was something Micko and I had wanted to do since we moved here, but hadn't gotten around to yet.

Judging by our previous experiences with the canoe, while living in Bruns, I really should have thought harder about taking out a boat.  When I say that I really should give you a brief run down...

Some good friends of ours gave us a canoe to use while we lived in our rad pad on the Brunswick River.  They had just had a baby and had no use for it.  Most weekends, I'd take the canoe out for a couple of hours... I loved it so much!  I'm not a big 'relaxer', I like to be on the go, at least doing something.  Canoeing became an outlet for me.  There is some kind of comfort I get from being on the water... floating along, taking in the passing landscapes.  One such day, I decided to take Micko out in the canoe with me.  Not the most pleasant experience... Lets just say Micko is a strong character and has his way of doing things... As do I!  Sometimes our ways differ and we butt heads.  This was one of those times!

So, I had some prior warning to what was to follow in the boating outing. But, hey... you gotta try these things.

Micko heads into the boat hire place and sorts out payment and the details of where you can and can't go with the lady.  We all pile into the boat and the old bastard says, 'Right, so who'll be driving?', Micko and my bro, in unison, say 'Karly'.  The old guy looks me up and down, mumbles to himself, then says 'Don't you think perhaps it would be best to have a bloke in the back?  I reakon it's a bit tough to start if you're a sheila'.  What the?  Is this guy fucking serious?  Did he magically transport himself from the early 20th century to stand before me?  I find myself just looking at him with bewilderment spread all over my face.  I really wanted to say, 'I'm pretty sure I can pull a fucken cord!  You might be surprised but, I've started a lawn mower before and even mown the lawns!'    But, I didn't... I just stared at the guy with contempt while my brother fought my battle.... 'She's a gym junkie and has driven heaps of boats'.  Thank you Dale!

Of course, now I'm mad and unfocused... I've also not driven a tinny in quite sometime, so I was a little all over the shop to start.  Took me a couple of minutes to get used to moving the motor the opposite way to where I wanted to go.  Didn't help that I was frazzled... Plus had Micko in the front yelling which way I should go.

At gym, I did my rotator cuff sometime ago.  Besides boxing, I've been quite kind to it since and I really haven't done my weights work in the past 8 months or so - my guns look more like plumbers piping at the moment.  Driving the boat was niggling away at the prior injury... the vibration on the motor on my arm, which was basically placed behind me, was doing me no good at all.  Micko yelling at me like I was partly deaf and a six pack short of slab, was also doing me not good... at all!  A combination of my short fuse, inability to be told what to do, the sexist prick and rotator cuff niggling pain bought it all to an abrupt head.  I snapped, "Fuck this!  Someone else drive the fucking boat', and handed the reigns over to my bro.

We stopped at a beach along the riverbank and drove the boat in.  It was a beautiful spot and seeing dolphins swimmingly past eased my frayed nerves.  Billy was loving it!  Swimming out to grab a stick, almost as big as he, and dragging it back in for us to throw back out.  Watching the houseboats bob along the river... The other boats passing by... Soaking in the sun, then taking cover in the shade... Wading in the water... And all round having a relaxing time.  Then it came time to brave the boat again.

This time Dale was skipper... Only problem was that he'd keep starting the boat in gear.  This was making me nervous.  I was yelling at Dale that he needed to have the engine in neutral before starting it... At the same time Micko was trying to tell Dale which direction to go... Then Dale snapped.  The rest of the trip back was pretty quiet. Everybody looking out of the boat, not willing to look at each other.  We were all on edge and really just wanted to back on dry land, have a beer and forget about our boating ordeal.

As we pulled up back at the boat house, Dale tried to stop the engine (by hitting the red button) it wouldn't work - but I didn't realise this yet.  So we all start screaming and yelling (actually it was mainly me)... Then I tell Dale to move out of the way.  I jump in and put the engine into neutral, to try to turn the boat around.  Then I hit the red button, it does nothing... I push on it again... nothing.  Then I start looking at the button, more than where we are headed.  I'm pushing the button again and again, but the engine won't stop.  Everyone in the boat is yelling at me now, 'Look where you're going', and I'm yelling back 'I can't stop the fucking boat'.  The sexist old prick comes out just as 'cruuuunch', I drive into the rocks.  Just then, with another hard punch at the fucking red button, the boat stops.  The old prick says 'use the oars... if it wasn't for you boys, you'd be out in the ocean right now'... Ooooooooh!  You've gotta be fucking joking me!  I grab my shit and stumble out of the boat with a big scowl on my face.

Micko goes to deal with the woman inside and I march over with Billy to the car.  I was ropable!  We all jump in the car, sat in relative silence... all just wanting to get home as quick as possible.

Then someone splurts out, 'Well that was fun!'.  With that, we piss ourselves laughing and head straight home for some emergency beers and plenty of banter about the boat, the bastard... and the bitch (being me).

Billy and his wounded willy...

As mentioned previously, my bro and his wife came to visit this past weekend.  All round we had a fabulous time... We drank copius beers, champas, frozen cosmo's and Pimms Royale - niiice.  We ate like Kings... Laughed like hyena's... and drank like fish.

Saturday was fantastic in some respects, shitty in others.  I'll get to the good part in another blog.  I'd gotten up around 7 and headed down the beach for a walk with Billy - thats quite rare, usually I'd be sleeping in after a night on the turps.  It was a glorious morning... sun was shining, birds singing, beach full of happy people walking their dogs, surfing, swimming or holding hands strolling along the sand.  Bill was in his element!  Running up saying hello to everyone and everything that passed by.  On the way down to the headland, we came across a guy in the shallows with a Rotti on a leash.  Although I was a little wary, Billy approached the dog, they sniffed each other and Bill kept on going... no problem!  Continuing up the beach for another 40 minutes or so, Bill taking in the sights and scents.  Me, thinking to myself, perhaps I should try to be more of a 'morning person'.  There is something really nice about starting the day off on the beach.  The colours are more vibrant, the light is softer and everything has a morning glow about it. 

As we come back, Billy spots the Rotti again... This time he's on the sand, with a guy.  Billy runs up to say hello and I don't think too much of it.  The dog went into a submission pose and I thought it probably wasn't a big threat.  Just then... bang!  The Rotti jumps onto of Billy, growling and ripping into my poor little baby!  Billy was yelping and crying and desperately trying to escape the clutches of this much bigger, and very vicious dog.  I ran screaming up the beach towards Billy - who was wriggling while making the most horrific cries for help.  He manages to free himself and runs over to me.  Then he sits there frozen and whimpering.  I check him for major cuts and he seems okay, but he just won't move.  The guy with the Rotti, has grabbed him by the leash and is holding him back while he snarls, growls and keeps jumping towards Bill.

Eventually, Billy calms down a little and he limps down the beach.  When we are a safe distance, I notice he has a few cuts and bruises on his underbelly - all around his little doodle.  But, otherwise he seems okay... Scared, but okay.  Me on the other hand... well my nerves were completely shot to pieces!  When I got home, Micko asked how the walk was, and I started sobbing uncontrollably. 


Billy recovered quite quickly... although over the past couple of days we'd noticed that his penis area was a little bit swollen.  This arvo, I dragged him down to the Vet for a check up. Also, his baby teeth don't look like falling out anytime soon, so they need to be pulled - usually done when they get the snip, but Bill was too young and didn't have his adult teeth then.  The Vet thought he might have broken his doodle bone, but thankfully it seems to be intact!  Instead, he had 2 needles - inflammatories - and has to take antibiotics for the next 2 weeks.  He's booked in on Monday for the teeth extraction.  400 bucks later and I'll have a happy and healthy pup again!

Dogs best friend can be an expensive exercise... what with the Vet bills, the stuff the destroy (luckily so far it's really only been a phone charger and a DVD from the Video shop), the food, the toys, etc, etc, etc.  But, when you look at their happy little face staring at you full of unconditional love, would you really have it any other way?

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!