On Saturday morning we got up at an hour one should NOT be up at on a Saturday morning, and headed out for a two hour drive to Ballarat – it seems all the stars aligned this week – I’m about to start new job close to home, with shorter day hours, and a breeder I had been speaking to on and off for the last 6 months (we’re ready to get a dog! Wait, no we’re not, we’re going away! We’re ready to get a dog! Wait, no we’re not, we work stupid hours and are out late at night! We’re ready to get a dog! Wait, no we’re not…) had a pup become available after all.
So we went to see her. She was chunky and sweet and very very happy to meet us. We figured we kinda liked her.
I spoke seriously to the breeder about vaccinations and worming and diet and hip dysplasia, and she gave me a bunch of information that mostly made sense and some that, from my (city) vet nursing point of view, made no fucking sense at all but hey, the dog was really cute!
So we bought her home
She has filled us with alternating senses of joy (The softy softness of her soft puppy ears! She’s so roly-poly and sweet! Look at her little face!) and terror (We’re responsible for this little life?!). Also, she snores. We’re undecided on that right now.
Oh, and this is where I officially apologise to all the vet clients over the years that I have said ‘Toilet-training a puppy? Oh, it’s easy! Just do A, B and C!’ . Because we’re doing A, B, and C, and she will still cock around outside for two hours sniffing this and that, and then poop as soon as she gets back inside. FFFffffffuuuuuuuu…..!
Husbands in hoods count, right?
An old picture of LuLu, the sweetest kitten ever to be dumped at a vet clinic. She lived to the tender age of 5 before being diagnosed with acute renal failure, and she went gallivanting over the Rainbow Bridge about 2 years ago, to join all the other pets my family has had to say goodbye to over the years. Missing her every day still, but sure she’s having a blast chirruping for a small cheese snack and tripping people up wherever she is now. Xx
This is the gorgeous rumply sleep face I kiss goodbye when I leave every morning – Ace is the kind to snuggle in the blankets until the very last second before he needs to throw his clothes on and go to work. I think he has about 4 alarms that go off, from a highly-ambitious 6.30am (which I think he’s only gotten up at twice so far this year), to the real last-straw alarm at 7.15am maybe? When I get home after work I can usually tell which alarm he’s gotten up at from the number of things flung about the bedroom.
And I always get the muffled, murmured ‘I love you’ as I walk out to my car. Makes my heart all squishy.
Every few months there is a short hurtle around the Ring Road to the charming village of Yarraville, for coffee, cake and catch up with my mum and her sisters, and my cousin RaRa.
The bickerings of these grown-up sisters are hilarious. Quite often my chai goes cold while I giggle until tears run down my cheeks.
RaRa and I keep promising each other we’ll never let each other get as eccentric as these three. No short hair and dangly earrings for us! we declare.
But I don’t think it would be that bad. I look forward to entertaining our own nieces and daughters when I’m that old, and RaRa and I are still visiting in Yarraville.
I am an auntie!
Welcome to the world, Mark!