Friday, 28 December 2007
Once upon a time...
...there was a big, dark cloud. It was good at hiding, and so would only come out when the mood was particularly blue. It followed the blueness around for a while before it rained a little, and then disappeared. But one day, not long ago, the cloud got bigger and bigger and the mood bluer and bluer. It caused a thunderstorm every now and again, and each time the grey cloud got bigger and bigger and blacker and blacker until it completely blocked out all the sunshine for the little person just underneath it. And the rain came and there was no sun to dry it out and cast light; the life underneath the cloud is waterlogged and dark and wishing the cloud would move along on its way sometime soon.
Monday, 19 November 2007
So, I blew NaBloPoMo.
Really, really blew it. Thursday was my downfall. Work was pretty quiet in the morning/early afternoon and then just before I was going to leave, shit hit the fan and my 7.30am-6pm day was extended by an extra 4 and a half hours. I make that a 15 hour day and, trust me, it really felt like a 15 hour day. Friday was spent clearing up leftover crap (although not literally crap, that's how it felt) and I raced out of the door at 5.30pm with a splitting headache, amidst cries of "aren't you coming for a beer?" I forewent the beer and was home before 7 when I took the dogs out and then curled up in a very dark room and went to sleep.
On Saturday, I drove to Walthamstow. For those who don't know London, it has a post(zip) code of E17. That means, that it is east London, and pretty far out east London. I live in The South West, so getting to Walthamstow meant taking the M25 (nightmare) to junction 29 and then all these stupid little A roads that take you through roundabout city. I don't know what it is about roundabouts that the Brits love so much. You have huge ones connecting motorways with something like"Welcome to Essex!" written in pansies; you have the medium sized ones connecting A or large B roads which are covered in sign posts telling you just how very, very sharp this turn is, and you have mini ones, which look like someone has spilled a blob of white paint in the middle of a crossing. As if people are going to drive AROUND this blob of white paint. Ay, Dios mio. Anyhow, I drove to Walthamstow to pick up the latest member of the family:
His name is Sunny (no, I did not name him). He is an 8 month old Labrador Retriever with the most incredible green eyes. This picture is rather deceptive. Sunny has been spoiled rotten, and is ROTUND. His name should be Dyson, because he doesn't just eat, he inhales food. On Saturday night I put all 3 dogs' food down at the same time and Sunny, sneaky monster, decided he was going to try and eat both HRH's and Sam's food, before his own. HRH growled at him and he backed away, but Sam is such a pussy that when the baby pushed him out of the way, (which is not difficult - we're talking at least 30 kilos of puppy here) Sam just let him do it. Sunny needs to be physically restrained from eating Sam's food, and on Saturday I think that Sunny must have left some slobber in the bowl, because Sam just was not interested after that. Instead, I wound up feeding him raw chicken wings. On Sunday morning, Sunny was following me around, wagging his tail. I didn't have a clue what he was after - he'd already been out for a walk that morning, where he strained so much doing a poop that I thought he was going to give himself a hernia. When I went over to pick the poop up, I found the reason for such straining - at some stage in the last 3 days, he had managed to eat part of a leash. In the crap was a leather strap about 2cm wide and almost 15cm long. This dog will snarf down anything. ANYTHING. Look, you left your book on the floor for a second while you picked up your cup of coffee - let me eat it for you. And that sweater on the sofa with the arm dangling down? Let me eat that for you too. But he is a lovely dog and with some (a lot) of training, he will be even more so.
To top it all off, my brother made dinner on Sunday evening. That is twice in one week. I think there's something very, very wrong with him. But I'm not complaining.
On Saturday, I drove to Walthamstow. For those who don't know London, it has a post(zip) code of E17. That means, that it is east London, and pretty far out east London. I live in The South West, so getting to Walthamstow meant taking the M25 (nightmare) to junction 29 and then all these stupid little A roads that take you through roundabout city. I don't know what it is about roundabouts that the Brits love so much. You have huge ones connecting motorways with something like"Welcome to Essex!" written in pansies; you have the medium sized ones connecting A or large B roads which are covered in sign posts telling you just how very, very sharp this turn is, and you have mini ones, which look like someone has spilled a blob of white paint in the middle of a crossing. As if people are going to drive AROUND this blob of white paint. Ay, Dios mio. Anyhow, I drove to Walthamstow to pick up the latest member of the family:
His name is Sunny (no, I did not name him). He is an 8 month old Labrador Retriever with the most incredible green eyes. This picture is rather deceptive. Sunny has been spoiled rotten, and is ROTUND. His name should be Dyson, because he doesn't just eat, he inhales food. On Saturday night I put all 3 dogs' food down at the same time and Sunny, sneaky monster, decided he was going to try and eat both HRH's and Sam's food, before his own. HRH growled at him and he backed away, but Sam is such a pussy that when the baby pushed him out of the way, (which is not difficult - we're talking at least 30 kilos of puppy here) Sam just let him do it. Sunny needs to be physically restrained from eating Sam's food, and on Saturday I think that Sunny must have left some slobber in the bowl, because Sam just was not interested after that. Instead, I wound up feeding him raw chicken wings. On Sunday morning, Sunny was following me around, wagging his tail. I didn't have a clue what he was after - he'd already been out for a walk that morning, where he strained so much doing a poop that I thought he was going to give himself a hernia. When I went over to pick the poop up, I found the reason for such straining - at some stage in the last 3 days, he had managed to eat part of a leash. In the crap was a leather strap about 2cm wide and almost 15cm long. This dog will snarf down anything. ANYTHING. Look, you left your book on the floor for a second while you picked up your cup of coffee - let me eat it for you. And that sweater on the sofa with the arm dangling down? Let me eat that for you too. But he is a lovely dog and with some (a lot) of training, he will be even more so.
To top it all off, my brother made dinner on Sunday evening. That is twice in one week. I think there's something very, very wrong with him. But I'm not complaining.
Wednesday, 14 November 2007
So he did manage to get his *insert Borat voice here* SEXY TIME, after all
So, HRH is doing great. I will definitely post some photos and videos in the next few days. But we have had an issue, what with her being ON HEAT AND ALL. Very inconvenient (especially when you have a male dog you can't get done because his previous owners failed to tell you he has a heart murmur which means the vet doesn't want to knock him out which means that his testicles are staying firmly where they are) and a bitch whose tubes remain unblocked because the thought of putting her through another invasive surgery is inhumane.
We've been so careful with them. She's been on heat for about 10 days so far (I follow her around with a mop) but hadn't shown any signs of reception. Great! He would get too close and she would park her behind on the floor and growl at him. Good girl. He would then run away and whimper, turning back after about 3 feet with this lusty look in his glazed-over eyes, tongue hanging out and dripping drool on the carpet. This would happen again and again and again... until you shout at him to lie down and be quiet and he cries and cries and then literally drops to the floor. This cycle lasts for about 15 minutes and then starts again. It's like being in a muy loco time warp where you're on a loop.
So, it's ok when we're home - Sam tries to hump the Queen and the Queen retorts with "I'll bite your bloody balls off if you come near me again" using, what I'm sure is, canine mind powers - we can make sure that the humpage occurs not. After having part of her spine surgically removed, we were worried that it might not take the strain of having it doggie style (ooh, forgive me, I am SO crass). To keep her safe while we're at work, we shut him in the living room, where he has access to the garden via the dog flap, and her in the kitchen (where she can make a mess if she has to and it is easy to clean up). This may sound foul - in fact, it is rather disgusting - but needs must, and I do not have the time or the inclination watch her go through, and pay for, another £7k surgery. (And, FYI, she manages to hold in both the poops and the pees until someone gets home at 5pm).
Late yesterday afternoon, before I had left work, I got this email:
Just got back to find kitchen door open, dogs together,
HRH looking subdued and Sam very pleased with himself!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11
Yep. Sam had opened the door to the living room and then scaled the half-door to the kitchen, done his business and was lying next to her. Fortunately there seemed to be no immediate damage - she was also fine this morning. We won't know for a while if he managed to cover her, or if he missed his target. From what the vet said, if she did conceive, she may be ok to carry the puppies. If she shows difficulties, there are get out clauses.
In the mean time, I pray that she is going to be able to carry the puppies to full term without any issues. Who needs a man when you can have a puppy?!
We've been so careful with them. She's been on heat for about 10 days so far (I follow her around with a mop) but hadn't shown any signs of reception. Great! He would get too close and she would park her behind on the floor and growl at him. Good girl. He would then run away and whimper, turning back after about 3 feet with this lusty look in his glazed-over eyes, tongue hanging out and dripping drool on the carpet. This would happen again and again and again... until you shout at him to lie down and be quiet and he cries and cries and then literally drops to the floor. This cycle lasts for about 15 minutes and then starts again. It's like being in a muy loco time warp where you're on a loop.
So, it's ok when we're home - Sam tries to hump the Queen and the Queen retorts with "I'll bite your bloody balls off if you come near me again" using, what I'm sure is, canine mind powers - we can make sure that the humpage occurs not. After having part of her spine surgically removed, we were worried that it might not take the strain of having it doggie style (ooh, forgive me, I am SO crass). To keep her safe while we're at work, we shut him in the living room, where he has access to the garden via the dog flap, and her in the kitchen (where she can make a mess if she has to and it is easy to clean up). This may sound foul - in fact, it is rather disgusting - but needs must, and I do not have the time or the inclination watch her go through, and pay for, another £7k surgery. (And, FYI, she manages to hold in both the poops and the pees until someone gets home at 5pm).
Late yesterday afternoon, before I had left work, I got this email:
| disaster!! | |
| From: | Your mother (xxxxxxxxx@blueyonder.co.uk) |
| Sent: | 13 November 2007 17:05:23 |
| To: | Little Sausage (xxxxxxxxx@hotmail.com) |
Just got back to find kitchen door open, dogs together,
HRH looking subdued and Sam very pleased with himself!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11
Yep. Sam had opened the door to the living room and then scaled the half-door to the kitchen, done his business and was lying next to her. Fortunately there seemed to be no immediate damage - she was also fine this morning. We won't know for a while if he managed to cover her, or if he missed his target. From what the vet said, if she did conceive, she may be ok to carry the puppies. If she shows difficulties, there are get out clauses.
In the mean time, I pray that she is going to be able to carry the puppies to full term without any issues. Who needs a man when you can have a puppy?!
Tuesday, 13 November 2007
Today I am going to write a little about autism
It's a subject that really is quite an important subject to me - not because I am directly affected by it but, because I know people who are, I know how they struggle and I feel that there is too much ignorance, even now when the wealth of information is there for all to see. I am writing this post to hail those I know (and those I don't) who have to live with autism in one of its many forms, and who do not give up. I know four different families who all have an autistic child, and I thank heaven all the time that there are people like them on this earth.
The autistic spectrum is immense. A child may show 'autistic traits' such as communication and relationship issues, (often developing in to ADHD) through language impairments all the way to something like severe Asperger Syndrome. Living with a child with the mildest of these syndromes is difficult enough. Firstly, diagnoses are often made very late in a child's development. There is no cure (even with a disorder like ADHD where Ritalin is handed out like candy). It's not like you can give a child with autism a pill which will suddenly make them "normal". Children at the milder end of the spectrum, like those with ADHD are prescribed drugs which are known to de-humanize them, often causing terrible tics, psychosis, paranoia and in some cases, suicidal thoughts. Although the drug does quiesce the symptom (your 'unruly' child is put on a downer) for some children with ADHD, there are no such 'medical' treatments for children with more severe forms of Autistic Spectrum Disorders. Treatments are of the educational variety. It is very slow progress and, often enough, there is no visible progress at all. It is heartbreaking to watch the strain that some of my friends and their families are under. Relationships are pushed to critical capacities. There are never enough hours in the day to look after your autistic child. Everything takes longer than it would otherwise when you are trying to communicate with someone who does not know how to communicate with you. It's like me, in London, trying t communicate with someone who has been plucked out from their village made from mud huts in the Congo. The barriers to hurdle are numerous and, even with these, you are likely to be able to communicate better with this person from Africa than you are with a child with autism.
Don't get me wrong. There are some fantastic therapies out there. Things we take for granted, like simple thought processes, are often nigh on impossible, (yet are often achieved with a lot of therapy and even more hard work) and really should be given miracle status. But what I find most incredible, in all of the cases I have come across - whether personal or during my studies - is the strength of the parents. As far as I can tell, being a regular parent is stressful enough. But to have the extra difficulties of non-communication, severe violence, (because even kids - maybe that should read especially - kids can be violent) financial troubles, difficulties in social situations plus other worries about the future, must make life feel like wading through molasses; to be able to continue to exhibit such patience, the desire to keep going and this all-enveloping and totally unconditional love - in my book, that makes these people saints.
The autistic spectrum is immense. A child may show 'autistic traits' such as communication and relationship issues, (often developing in to ADHD) through language impairments all the way to something like severe Asperger Syndrome. Living with a child with the mildest of these syndromes is difficult enough. Firstly, diagnoses are often made very late in a child's development. There is no cure (even with a disorder like ADHD where Ritalin is handed out like candy). It's not like you can give a child with autism a pill which will suddenly make them "normal". Children at the milder end of the spectrum, like those with ADHD are prescribed drugs which are known to de-humanize them, often causing terrible tics, psychosis, paranoia and in some cases, suicidal thoughts. Although the drug does quiesce the symptom (your 'unruly' child is put on a downer) for some children with ADHD, there are no such 'medical' treatments for children with more severe forms of Autistic Spectrum Disorders. Treatments are of the educational variety. It is very slow progress and, often enough, there is no visible progress at all. It is heartbreaking to watch the strain that some of my friends and their families are under. Relationships are pushed to critical capacities. There are never enough hours in the day to look after your autistic child. Everything takes longer than it would otherwise when you are trying to communicate with someone who does not know how to communicate with you. It's like me, in London, trying t communicate with someone who has been plucked out from their village made from mud huts in the Congo. The barriers to hurdle are numerous and, even with these, you are likely to be able to communicate better with this person from Africa than you are with a child with autism.
Don't get me wrong. There are some fantastic therapies out there. Things we take for granted, like simple thought processes, are often nigh on impossible, (yet are often achieved with a lot of therapy and even more hard work) and really should be given miracle status. But what I find most incredible, in all of the cases I have come across - whether personal or during my studies - is the strength of the parents. As far as I can tell, being a regular parent is stressful enough. But to have the extra difficulties of non-communication, severe violence, (because even kids - maybe that should read especially - kids can be violent) financial troubles, difficulties in social situations plus other worries about the future, must make life feel like wading through molasses; to be able to continue to exhibit such patience, the desire to keep going and this all-enveloping and totally unconditional love - in my book, that makes these people saints.
Monday, 12 November 2007
London did not burn down today
Just thought y'all would like to know.
Will DEFINITELY write a proper post tomorrow.
Will DEFINITELY write a proper post tomorrow.
Sunday, 11 November 2007
Well, well, well...
It seems that the weekend has already come to an abrupt end. I have lots to write about, but find myself with only 42 minutes until the end of today and way too much to do before tomorrow. I will definitely write a proper post then.
I have, however, managed to wear my new shoes all day - and they were just as comfortable when I took them off as they were when I tried them on in the shop.
This is LAME.
Tomorrow I will definitely post something worthwhile.
I have, however, managed to wear my new shoes all day - and they were just as comfortable when I took them off as they were when I tried them on in the shop.
This is LAME.
Tomorrow I will definitely post something worthwhile.
Saturday, 10 November 2007
New shoes?
Yes! I got me some new shoes today. To celebrate what is (I hope) the end of terrible back pain and sciatica. I've been walking around in flats for too long now. The tendons in my legs have slackened. It all just feels so wrong! So, to train them back, (really just an excuse for some shoes) I have bought some not-so-highs. Purely for training purposes, you'll understand.
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