King Ferdi + The Little Rat

Ferdi was the physically challenged long hair, the runt of the litter I picked up from an odd little hobby farm in the outer suburbs of north west Sydney, desperate to add a dog to our instant family. He was tiny and had a broken tail (a pig had stepped on it), and as soon as I held him in my hands I knew I wasn't handing him back. Elfi came a year later - Ferdi looked so sad all the time, we thought he needed a friend. We had moved to Hong Kong by then. I found a breeder and a pup in Melbourne, sent my Mum to check her out, and a few weeks later she flew over; so little and so full of energy. But Ferdi still looked sad. (Turns out, that's just how he looked.)

King Ferdi and the Little Rat. Their respective nicknames tell you a bit about their standing in the family hierarchy. According to Sean, Ferdi was the most perfect creature that ever lived, even with his overbite and crooked tail and inability to jump. Ferdi was incredibly stubborn, he always knew exactly what he wanted (not to walk on the grass, not to walk in the rain, not to walk on a lead...). As long as you let Ferdi do his thing, he was happy to live his life with minimal fuss. He was calm and quiet and entirely himself. 

Elfi, on the other hand, was demanding, neurotic and needy. If you were patting Ferdi she would charge over, pushing him out of the way with scant regard for his well-being. She talked, constantly. She yelped to remind you she needed love, attention and human grade food every waking hour. And she always wanted to be with you - on your lap, at your feet. She inserted herself into everything. 

The general consensus in the household was that Elfi was annoying, too loud, a bully. Ferdi, however, was a noble, thoughtful, wise creature. I, of course, went out of my way to love and defend Elfi. She was the underdog. She was my dog. She was my shadow.

I say was because a little over a week ago I had to say goodbye to her. She was 16 (-ish) and had dementia, a suspected brain lesion plus all the symptoms of lymphoma. She was dropping weight rapidly, no matter how much I fed her or what meds she was on. It was the toughest decision. She was going down hill quickly which was really difficult to see, but...she still got excited at dinnertime, she still loved a good scratch on her haunch. 

I miss her like crazy. I haven't been able to pack her bed away yet, and my heart still drops every time I put the key in the front door and realise she's not home. There's no excited tippy taps to greet me.

And it's even harder for my brain to process because the end of Elfi also signifies the end of an era. That household I'm talking about, is no more. Sean died four years ago (how tf is it four years? so short, so long...), Ferdi two years later. I sold the house we bought and built together. My step-sons have girlfriends and apartments and whole other lives (well, one does, the other lives in a granny flat / mansion out the back of my place, but still - he is very self-sufficient). 

Life moves on, that's what it does. And it takes you with it. I'm busy building new memories - with a new house, new dogs, new people - but I hope Sean and Ferdi and Elfi know that I think of them every single day. I hope they find each other, wherever they are. And I hope they know that I am okay, that I am happy.

Death by Doxie : Ferdi's Birthday

It was Ferdi's birthday last month. He turned eight, which is younger than I thought he was so yay! We are may be crazy dog people but we don't go over the top for the dogs birthdays. There's no cake or party or singing. They do normally get a treat - a raw egg, some roast chook, a bit of bacon - but, let's be honest, they get treats most days... 

I do of course take the opportunity to dig out the party hats though. How could I not when Ferdi so clearly loves them? 

(And yes, that is Ferdi's snout in Elfi's mouth in the bottom shot. Fun times.)

Death by Doxie : Elfi's Couch

Up at the very top of our house is a little room where most of these blog posts are written. Actually, it's not that little; it's our attic space and it's awesome. I've got my desk up there, along with all my various craft supplies - stamps and wool and paper scraps. It's where I keep all the Jorpins Vintage stock, and where the husband stores our best red wine.

There's also a fold out couch. Ostensibly it's a spot to put guests when the house is full, but mainly it's so that Elfi has the best bed possible while she keeps me company throughout the day. The couch is most definitely hers, I wouldn't try to tell her otherwise.

ps. These photos were taken a few months ago, Elfi's cushion collection has grown significantly since then. 

My...Pets

My childhood was full of dogs. And cats. And goldfish. And one very unfortunate guinea pig. I feel so blessed to have had that experience, of growing up with animals. 

Yes, if you think about it (and if you do the environmental maths), pets are a horribly selfish middle class extravagance. But they can also be the best teachers, counsellors and friends. They can teach you about unconditional love and pure joy, and about death, and cruelty. They can drag you out of yourself when you want to hide from the world; they can just be there, a warm constant presence, when you need them. Also, they can be ridiculously cute, which counts for a lot in my world. 

I can't ever imagine not having a pet, not having a dog. 

My first pet that I can sort of maybe remember was a sheep, called Lamby because we were very original with names. I was under six years old, and we lived in a big hippy commune, in a large old house, which was (somewhat incongruously) in a leafy wealthy suburb in Melbourne's inner east. One day someone left the gate open and Lamby got out and was hit by a car. Pretty sure we had roast lamb for dinner that night. 

Actually, to be honest, I don't really remember Lamby at all, but there's so many elements of that story I love. How could I not tell it?

My actual first pet memories are all about Jackie, and Julie, and Warragul. 

Jackie was a black Kelpie, and I think of her as my first dog. She was patient and gentle and smart, and I find it impossible to think of growing up without her being in the picture. That's her below, on the top left, with a grey muzzle and a spring blossom tucked into her collar. 

Along with Jackie I also grew up with Julie, the family cat. We found Julie as a teeny tiny kitten mewing in the lane that ran along the back of our house (we'd moved on from the commune by this stage). She really was the tiniest thing. I remember when we found her, my step-dad was adamant she wasn't going to stay with us. We didn't need another pet, and besides pets were an elitist affront to his socialist / communist politics. Pretty sure within 48 hours he was cooking her special meals and quietly hoping no one would come to claim her. 

Then there was Warragul, my dad's dog. Warragul is definitely the most amazing dog that I've ever had the privilege to meet. Warragul was a dingo cross something, maybe some kind of shepherd? He was a beautiful dog, with coarse black and tan hair. He was a bit of a mutt but he was mainly a dingo. He was ridiculously smart, and loyal, and very talkative. He was always a little wild - you'd never try to put a lead on him or take him for a 'walk' in any normal sense of the word. He'd follow you to the park though, because he wanted to, because he was happy to. And he'd tell the whole neighbourhood how happy he was about it as well. 

He loved my dad fiercely. Sometimes if Dad went out without him, he'd chase the car for ages hoping we'd stop and pick him up. And sometimes if Dad went out without him he'd go looking for him. He'd turn up at building sites that Dad had worked on months and months before. He'd turn up at friend's houses, 10, 15, 20 kilometres away. He remembered all those places over all that time. Amazing. Sadly I have hardly any photos of Warragul, but you can see him above, in the photo on the bottom left. Handsome fellow.

Later, when I was at an age where I wanted my own space and my own things, I got myself a gorgeous chocolate brown kelpie cross (labrador, I think) from the RSPCA in Burwood. Coco Marley. That's her above, in the bottom right. Just look at those eyes. Coco was the best dog and the worst dog. She meant so very much to me, she saw me through some really tough times. And she forced me to make some really tough decisions, too. If I write much more about her I'll get a wee bit sad, so I'll just direct you here if you want to know more. 

Right now we get to share our adventures with Ferdi and Elfi. They are hilarious and handsome and have such distinctive personalities. We love them; they are family. But like all pets do, one day, too soon, they will die. Hopefully they will die peacefully, free of pain and after a long and happy life. 

My husband can't bear to even think about it, but I know that day will come. And I know it will be indescribably, horribly sad. But I also know that before too long I'll be itching for a new companion, for another pet in my life. Every pet owner knows that this urge isn't about replacement - each dog or cat (or guinea pig) is so unique the idea of replacement is ridiculous. 

Instead, for me, every new pet is a celebration and remembrance of all the dogs and cats (and guinea pigs) that have gone before them. They offer a new friendship that is at once the same and yet always so different; a new bond that forms part of a long bittersweet line. 

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Jackie enjoying the Victorian Alps with us. Note how Beci is rocking the mom jeans and desert boots, whilst I am rocking the...um...nope, I've got no idea what the f**k I'm wearing either. 

ps. When 'researching' this post I came across this Tumblr, which suggests that maybe Communism and pets do mix...

ps. I also realise that I neglected to tell you about my many goldfish (one of which was called Mystic Astro Geek. True Story.). And I didn't tell you about that unfortunate guinea pig either. Next time, okay?

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The My... posts are a way to get me writing more throughout 2015. There'll be one a month, each with a different My... prompt. You can play along as well, whenever and wherever you want. This month's prompt (February) is My Pets. Next month's prompt (March) is My Morning Routine. Interpret each prompt however you like - a story or a jumble of thoughts, fact or fiction, personal or not. Don't feel too constrained by the months either, if you like a prompt then have a go. And make sure to let me know if you do join in!

Death by Doxie : A Ferdi Pillow

When the world keeps throwing up inconceivably horrible things that you struggle to make sense of, sometimes the best thing to do is just sit and watch your dogs sleeping. Seriously - is this not heartbreakingly cute? One dog is good, two dogs who are best of friends is better. 

Thank you Ferdi and Elfi, for being as adorable as you are. Sometimes, you keep me sane.

Death by Doxie : Elfi Loves Laundry

The dogs have had a longstanding love affair with laundry, clean and dirty. When Ferdi was a pup I'd often find him nesting in the laundry basket, and Elfi's favourite days of the week are bed stripping days - when we throw all the sheets and pillow cases and doona covers into a big pile and she clambers on top like a mountain goat. Even better if there's a patch of sun around. Sometimes she looks so content I delay the washing by and hour or so. 

It's fine when it's all going in the wash anyway, but when the hounds decide to cover a freshly laundered, freshly folded pile of washing in dog hair, as happened the other day, well...that's not so fine. But it's my own fault really, leaving the clothes on the floor for all of five minutes as I did. Rookie mistake. 

(But look at those Elfi eyes! How could you be angry? Clearly I wasn't as the first thing I did when I saw her was run and grab my camera. Pretty sure that's not in Dog Training 101.)

IGEC : Dogs

One of the big reasons you don't see me round here quite so much as I'd like is because of the visual wonderland that is Instagram. I've spurned Twitter, turned my back on Facebook (sort of...), and neglected my blog for the love of this not so little part of the social media world.

Contrary to some popular opinion it is not all about selfies and feet and lunch shots (although they all can be amazingly good in the right hands). Instagram is actually chockfull of the some of the most inspiring, creative, hilarious, clever people I've ever had the pleasure of encountering on the internets. So - this new series is my chance to share some of those inspiring, creative, hilarious, clever people with you. And I'm kicking it off with one of my favourite topics - dogs!

First up, possibly my favourite Instagram account in the whole wide world - @harlowandsage. Harlow is a ridiculously handsome weimaraner and Indiana is his adorable dachshund sidekick (Sage was an equally adorable dachshund, who lived to a ripe old age and sadly passed away). These guys are freaking adorable together, and their owner has a really great sense of humour (plus a slightly strange obsession with Meryl Streep). Whenever I'm having a bad day - and there's been a few of them of late - I always turn to these guys to cheer me up.

Another canine favourite is @ma_hovina. Lal is a rather good looking hound, and is also clearly well behaved and very patient. The dog ends up in all kinds of amusing and beautiful compositions. See more of the best here.

Fugee is a rescued bordie collie cross who has the most wonderfully humorous and expressive doggy face. The posts from @thefugee are always beautifully framed and edited. Great dog, great shots...

Over to you - do you have any favourite doggy friends on Instagram?

With thanks to Brandi Hussey for the photo template. I can't recall exactly how I got my hands on it (so I can't link directly to it, sorry!), but I did and it's awesome! Oh, and you can find me on Instagram here if you're so inclined...