The Banal Chew

Rapture Schmapture

I just told Bonnee that the world is going to end this weekend.  She told me to shut my piehole and get back to work. 

And to stop playing all the Blondie and R.E.M. 

Jelly bean, Boom!

Happy Birthday, Roger!

I remember when we brought you home to Tucson from a post-holiday visit to Arkansas.  The magical color of moonlight, you were a littler version of the same "good boy" that you are today. 

 We've seen a lot, you and I, been to many places and weathered many changes.  You were my (mostly) willing subject while I spent those great many hours studying canine anatomy, practicing strokes and gearing up for my animal massage certification. 

You have loved with me, cried with me and been forever by my side during even the darkest hours.  I may protest when others say I love you more than I love them, but I know you understand that's just my way of placating.

Thank you for being my best friend.
May the moon shine brightly for at least another seven!

Tired Dog

Loss

Please head over to Homer's and give him hugs, squeezes and kisses.  He could use them right now.

Mission Accomplished

Yesterday was all about the animals.  They were due for their annual exams and vaccinations, so we loaded the three of them up and paid a visit to the local animal hospital, where they were sufficiently probed, palpated and pricked.  "Lucky devils," Mark said.

We also had to replenish our stock of spot flea treatment.  Cha-ching.

 So $350 later, fully immunized and the pictures of health, they have the audacity to sit and glare at us for making their lives hell.  Mmhmm.  

Oh, and Roger is happy as a lark with the new rug.  He's no longer afraid to cross from the stairway to the dining room.

Puppy Psychosis

Roger, our Schnauzer, has developed a worsening phobia of wood flooring over the past few months.  I don't get it.  We've always had hardwood floors, even in our Tucson house where we raised him during the first year and a half of his life.  Now he just stands and wobbles like a clumsy tapdancer while trying to figure out how to cross the living room floor. 

On the interwebz, I've read similar complaints from others, and the advice offered is that it's because the dog can't get any traction on the slippery surface, but that doesn't seem to fit here.  Roger has never had this problem before, regardless of the length of his nails or how recently buffed the floor might have been (which is practically never). 

Anyway, we're off to by an area rug now.  We'll see if that helps.

Gallus gallus

I wrote a poem for Homer and his chicken, Henny-Penny.  When I lived in Homer's guesthouse earlier this year, and even though I grew tired of stepping in chickenpoo, I liked having Henny-Penny around.  Her gentle clucking was strangely comforting, and she certainly kept Martha the Puppy entertained. 

Anyway, I hope Homer likes the poem, despite its unfortunate ending.  For the record, I bear no ill-will toward the chicken.  Let's just call it poetic license.

The Tale of Henny-Penny

Henny-Penny went to town
To have her tooth capped with a crown,
(But Henny-Penny hadn't really any).

For Henny-Penny had eaten rocks,
Mistaking them for Homer's socks,
And heard a crack that made her quack, poor Henny!

While on her way to see the dentist
(Or perhaps his handsome male hygienist),
Henny-Penny felt her tummy rummy.

She stopped and bowed her head down low;
She cocked her eyeballs to and fro
And spied a lovely beetle lying fetal.

Without delay she took the plunge,
And at the insect she did lunge,
And with one peck did gobble up the bauble.

Alas, the truck she did not see,
Nor realized that in the street she be!
Poor Henny is now flat as any penny.

Martha de la semaine

My, how she grows...

27 December, 2008 (2 months old)

23 March, 2009  (5 months old)

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Per usual, the sun awoke me this morning.  I didn't mind.  When I first opened my eyes, I was treated to

...another beautiful Sydney sunrise.

A Sad Day

Brian, a blogger friend, has lost someone very dear to him.  Please go send him some love.  He could really use it right now.

Anyone familiar with Brian knows how much love he poured out of his heart to Elliott...and how much care he gave to him, especially during the final days.  It's a blow to all of us, and particularly to those of us who have pets of our own. 

Our thoughts are with you, Brian.

I miss Martha!

...but it's only a few months until I see her again.  The consolation is that my good friend Rob is taking such excellent care of her in Tucson.  Apparently, she's growing like a weed...all "legs and head". 

Martha was so tiny when I left the U.S. early last month.  The smallest of her siblings (don't start with that "R" word!), I doubt she'll get too big and definitely not nearly as big as her great-uncle, Roger.  For a miniature Schnauzer, he's really tall and lanky.

Speaking of Roger, I can't wait to introduce him to Martha.  I think they'll get along really well.  Unfortunately, they won't be united until the summer of 2010, when we all return to Australia.  If we take Roger with us back to the U.S. in June, we will just have to re-quarantine him when we return down under...for a minimum of 30 days, mind you.  We'll already have to do that with Ms Martha.  I think it would be too much to put dear ol' Rog through that again.  Plus, it's bloody expensive.  And anyway, he'll have a good home here in Sydney while we're away.

Rob sends me weekly updates on Martha and includes a number of photos in the emails.  Here are some of the most recent.

Prepare for cuteness overload.