Be Back Soon

Hubby and I are sneaking off to Thailand for a few weeks of R&R.
It's our honeymoon/almost 1 year anniversary/hoping to get back some sanity back break.
The dogs are spending their school holidays at their Gran's.
We are expecting them returned a good 2-3kgs heavier.

We won't knock back any good weather vibes that anyone feels like sending - especially after the luck on our wedding day. Yes, yes, I know it's meant to be good luck and all. I think the bird crapping on my wedding ring finger was the good luck icing on the cake.

So it's ciao for now, but see you soon.

Hopefully no one notices when we leave?

The Tails of Jack 'n' Ralph - Part V

The Corn Cobs

I really hope you aren't getting the impression we are bad parents/dog owners. Because if you are, you might not want to read the next instalment of The Tails of Jack 'n' Ralph.

In our defence, it is a bit like having kids. They fall over, break bones, eat worms - it's all part of being a kid and a parent.

Hmmm, maybe I should gather some cutesy pics and stories of them being spoilt rotten (which is what they are more well known for) so you know we don't just have bad things happen to our dogs.

So, with that in mind, here's the story of Ralph and the Four Corn Cobs.

Ralph was a curious little puppy - as opposed to now where he's just a really big curious puppy.

Before
And after just a teensy bit of growing

It was in the heat of the Australian Summer so there were a lot of BBQs out on the decking. We inform all of our guests to please ensure they don't leave any food around, especially bones, otherwise the dogs will find them. Dutifully and respectfully all of our guests put their scraps in the bin.

After a big BBQ in 40 degree heat and an overnight temperature of 28 degrees we/I thought for a bit of fun it would be good if we/Hubby pitched a tent in our backyard. Please do not look for any logic in that other than it was a nice night and the best view from our block is on the patch of grass/dirt in front of the garage. So that's where we/he pitched the tent.

I was woken up at 6am to the sound of a hurling dog. Charming, I know.
Being the good Mother I am I crawled out of the tent and checked out what was happening.
Poor Ralph was looking very sad and amongst everything else, there was a corn cob. Turns out he had ransacked the garbage bin overnight where all of the scraps had been put.

Rather concerned at this I mentioned it to Hubby, who was as unconcerned as I was concerned.
Over the course of the day Ralph became lethargic and my Motherly instinct (which is only applicable to dogs) told me something major was wrong.

He tried to eat his dinner but struggled.
Me at 4pm on a Sunday: "He needs to go to the vet"
Hubby at 4.01pm on a Sunday: "No he doesn't"

Me at 6pm on a Sunday: "He needs to go to the vet"
Hubby at 6.01pm on a Sunday: "No he doesn't"

Me at 7.30pm on a Sunday: "He needs to go to the vet. And if we don't go soon he'll have to go to an Emergency Centre."
Hubby at 7.31pm on a Sunday: "No he doesn't"

9.30pm Sunday night
Ralph throws up everything he'd managed to get down over the course of the day.
Hubby at 9.31pm: "Ok, he needs to go to the vet"

Off to the Emergency Centre because all the vets were closed.
The vet had a poke around and made some faces of concern. I mentioned he'd thrown up the corn cob in the morning. More look of concern.

The diagnosis at this stage was, "We need to feed him some tracking devices to see at what point they get lodged. This will give us an idea as to what might be wrong".
We had to leave him there.
$250 worth of tracking devices and a phone call an hour later they tell us the bad news. He has many obstructions in his stomach and intestines and if he isn't operated on immediately he will die.

Naturally we said "Whatever it takes".

I rang them the next morning to see how his operation went. They had retrieved 3 corn cobs but it was a major operation involving them taking out his intestines, working through them by hand checking for any obstructions then putting it all back in.

I asked if we could see him. She said come down after 2pm.

Hubby and I met at 2pm at the Animal Hospital and went to see our little guy. He had a drip in his arm, wearing a gown like a boxer and was in the middle of one serious trip from the morphine. We both broke down!

The vet came in and told us we shouldn't be visiting, gave us the lecture on responsible pet ownership (I really don't know what we could have done about him knocking over the main bin) and then went on to tell the lovely story of the old dog that came in having eaten a sock, they removed it, then died a week later because they missed one. Thanks for the pep talk buddy and wouldn't you naturally look for a pair?!

He stayed in hospital for 5 days before he was allowed to come home. He became the nurses company during the overnight shifts in their staff room.

Back then he was only a little tyke, but the scar has grown with him and is now close to 40cms long.

They removed 3 corn cobs in total (and a large chunk of our bank account). One from his intestine, one lodged in the opening between his stomach and large intestine and one still in his stomach.

We didn't eat corn cobs for more than a year. Now when we do we burn them!

Some good news from it all though.
While they were operating they found an issue with his stomach which is known in his breed so they fixed that while they were there.

And if I hadn't have insisted we setup the tent that night we would never have known about the initial corn cob and may have left it too late.
They say some things happen for a reason.

Even now that he's fully grown and 45kgs, we still take him to the Emergency Centre when he needs his shots, has cut his foot open, removed a toenail and the nurses smile when they see him and call him "Little Ralphy".
And so do we.

The Tails of Jack 'n' Ralph - Part IV

Why Jack Has a Phobia of Golf Clubs

Now before I have the RSPCA on my doorstep, I at least deserve the opportunity to explain myself.

Kelpies are extremely active; mentally and physically. Over the years I've found that Jack likes to make games out of anything just for a bit of fun. And mostly this leads to smiles, not tears. I did say mostly.

We live on half an acre so the humans like to make games up just for the fun of it too.
There seems to be a pattern where these games get setup during the pre-dawn hours of the morning and tend to involve people having been over at our house for an extended period raiding the fridge.

For example, previous backyard death traps have included:
1. A rope swing from the ghost gum
Don't worry about the 10 metre fall. Just jump as far as you can and put your hands out. You should reach the rope. Here, have another drink.

This is the tree the rope swing was attached to

2. A Go-Kart track
My husband's boss needed somewhere to store his Go-Karts for a while. Boss made sure he took the petrol out, my husband made sure he had some handy. Before you tackle our track, how much have you had to drink?

3. Totem Tennis
Don't play totem tennis in the daylight, it isn't half as much fun. Wait until it's dark and then just swing wildly. We have the First-Aid kit handy. Do you like Sauvignon Blanc?


4. BMX Track
You need to jump off the retaining wall, dodge the apple tree, watch out for the dog land mines (their slipperiness can cause you to lose control), swerve to miss the retaining wall stumps, up the slippery hill, onto the decking, down onto the other side of the decking, just watch out for anyone falling off the rope swing. Before you go, how's your drink?

5. Table Tennis
Don't have a table tennis table? No worries. Hubby is a tradie he'll just make one. Don't have table tennis bats? No worries, we have a tennis racket, a bat tennis bat and some golf balls. They'll do. Just watch out for the garage door mechanism, that hurts when your head hits it. Before we start, are you right for a drink?

So when the other half decided to make a mini golf course, but only had a pitching wedge in which to play with, I really wasn't that surprised. And he set it up during daylight hours with only Powerade in his system. Very proud I was.

He had created a 4 hole course each with its own challenge. It weaved throughout the backyard ending with the most challenging hole which involved hitting the ball up onto a sandy patch into a hole while dodging the roof, the ducted heating unit and the hot water service.

Jack thinks it's fun to grab a ball before you hit it. He runs off and then enjoys playing keepings off until you manage to tackle him to the ground or his younger yet much larger brother Ralph says something via mental telepathy that scares him enough to drop the ball.

Hubby called me outside to participate in the World Championship Mini Golf play-offs.

A Side Note and Potential Justification: Growing up I played softball as last batter and first base, tennis with the boys, cricket as opening batsman and hockey as the smasher. At just over 3 feet entering high school if I wanted to hit a ball I had to give it everything I had.
While 5 ' 7 " now, there's some habits you don't grow out of.

The first three holes were challenging but nothing out of the ordinary. Jack would grab the ball as soon as we put it on the ground, Ralph would chase him, we'd chase him, get it back and continue.

Then the final hole...
An incredible amount of concentration was required...
Swung the club back and started the follow through with everything I had (see justification note).
Unexpectedly Jack comes leaping off the decking to grab the ball and the full force of my back swing and the momentum of the ball hits his front leg.

Have you ever heard a dog scream? The sound of Jack in pain ripped through me. I thought for sure I had shattered his leg.

He ran to the fence on three legs, put his back up against it for support, sat upright on his back legs while holding up his bleeding leg and continued to scream. I ran over to him and held the wound together and screamed to hubby to go and get the car. What had I done?!

He let me hold the wound together which was a good sign. His screams subsided to whimpers.

Jack got loaded into the car and taken to the nearest vet.
The vet gave me that raised eyebrow look when I told him what happened but gave me the unbelievable news that it wasn't broken. He didn't know how either. He asked what we fed Jack. I commented Eukanuba. Apparently Eukanuba had just saved us a few thousand dollars and Jack's leg.

He still had surgery for the wound and a dented muscle, but otherwise he was fine. Phew.
I wrote to Eukanuba and they sent out a huge pack of goodies for the dogs. It was like sending Get Well flowers to a dog.

Doesn't look that bad I know. Feel his leg even today, it has a dint in it!

So, now, when we pull out a golf club - and we only putt now! - you can find Jack hiding under the decking.
He's not stupid.

Death Trap Update 30/6/08
Last weekend saw the creation of a new backyard death trap. It involved cutting a hole in the middle of a large piece of board, painting circles around the hole, labelling the circles with numbers, creating some stilts for the board and then covering the footy in Glad Wrap so it didn't get paint on it because the boys couldn't wait until it dried.
Welcome to our Aussie Rules Backyard Handball Competition.
Just watch out for those nails.

The Tails of Jack 'n' Ralph - Part III

Gran...Introduction to Jack 'n' Ralph here



I'm skipping forward a bit in the story, but when I popped in to see my Mum and Dad today and saw the above picture up on the mantel piece with all the other family pics, I wanted to write about it.

I've heard that the fight for who is going to be Gran and who is going to be Nanna in some families when Grandkids come along can get nasty.

I always knew that my Mum would be Gran and my Husband's Mum would be Nanna, just because that is what both of their Mums were to their kids. Woohoo! One less thing to deal with.

For us, this is a bit of a non-issue right now. We don't have kids in the plan right now, or on the horizon, and are taking the football player stance and using the phrase "one week at a time" when it comes to us having kids. Not that this stops people from continuing to ask, hound, badger, bribe.

As you would know by now our replacement kiddies are our dogs. We hug them, and pet them, and ... sorry, Warner Brothers flashback.

My Mum loves dogs, so has no issue at all in being referred to as Gran to our dogs. Non-dog owners may be thinking I'm a little whacko right now, "why would dogs care what they call her?", but the dog owners would know that dogs respond to verbal commands. Say "walk" around our dogs and remove ANYTHING valuable from the vicinity. Spell out "W.A.L.K", still remove all breakables (damn Kelpie can spell) and finally if you say "Want to go and see Gran?" there is chaos.

"Gran" means something important to our dogs. It means they are going in the car with heads hanging out the window, to my parents house where they will be fed left overs, get as many hugs as they can handle, get to sit on the couch for cuddles with Gran and get to play with their blind and deaf 15 year old Maltese/Schitzu friend Scruffy.

Scruff was my Gran's dog. Scruff was what she lived for. My Mum took him in when she was moved to a hostel. Even on a bad dementia day, Scruffy was never forgotten. My Gran was great.

Looking at this photo you may be surprised that the pecking order of these three goes:
1. Scruffy - Ruler and Supreme Commander (even if he does walk into poles)
2. Jack - Mediator. He lived with Scruffy for a year so he understands his small dog issues.
3. Ralph - General Scaredy Cat

When Scruffy visits our house, Ralph sleeps on the decking while Scruffy gathers all three dog beds and sleeps on top of them. For a dog that was castrated a long time ago, he sure has balls.

Anyway, where was I?
That's right!

So it's excitement all round when our family goes and visits my Mum, a.k.a Gran.

For Mum's birthday every year she gets something from Jack and Ralph. Last year, it was the Happy Birthday photo above. And yes, they did move at the last minute so the message was a little mixed up, but it made it even more them. She loved it.

My Mum was admitted for surgery last year for suspected bowel cancer (all clear!). When she woke up I made sure that the photo at the top of this entry was sitting on the dresser. It made her smile.

The nurses were enquiring about Grandkids, so she showed them the picture. It cracked the nurses up.

So, thanks Mum for loving our little furry kids.

And Dad, man who refuses to be called Grandpa to dogs, we know you love them too. :)
And we know that if the dogs disappear, it's probably Uncle Clint that has them in his truck.

The Tails of Jack 'n' Ralph - Part II

Part I here
He's going to get how big?
After I found out that Jack was a Kelpie and not a Rotti I knew that he was going to be a lot smaller than initially anticipated. Woohoo! Less screaming kids in the street, less small dog owners crossing the road, leaving the park, moving house because of Jack, and if need be I could pick him up and run. You would be surprised how often that occurs.

When my husband said he reeeeeeeeally wanted a Ridgeback x Bullmastiff there was the natural apprehension of exactly how big was he going to get.

Surely he can't get that big. He's so tiny! He can't even get up the stairs of the decking.The relationship between Jack and Ralph was going swimmingly. Well, for us it was going swimmingly. Jack doesn't have a vote in this one. So, when it came time for Ralph's first injections, Jack came along and we thought we would pose two questions to the Vet. 1. Exactly how big is Ralph going to get and 2. Why is Jack being so nurturing towards Ralph.

Not that we were complaining that Jack was treating Ralph like his little best buddy, but we were a bit surprised.

The vet summed it up.

"Kelpies aren't stupid. He knows exactly how big this little tyke is going to get"

Guess that one sentence answered both of our questions.
Now we just had to wait for it to happen ...
This is what happens when the new puppy indulges himself a little too much on Australia Day. Too much Eukanuba and puppy milk. He's got his teddy bear to help him with the hangover tomorrow.

By the way, that teddy bear isn't even as big as his nose any more, and not through him ripping it to pieces.

Still to come:
- The very expensive corn cobs
- Why Jack has a phobia of golf clubs
- The backyard
- The Rack or the Jalph?
- What's that smell?
- Getting back to one's roots
- What scares the crap out of Ralph?
- Grrrrrrrrrr
and...
- When a dog's 1st Birthday goes bad

The Tails of Jack 'n' Ralph

An Introduction to our Furry Kids

Let's keep this simple to start with.
We have two dogs.

Jack...
And Ralph...We usually have a strict "no dressing up the dogs" policy (dogs are entitled to their dignity), however for Christmas those rules get thrown out of the window.

"While you sleep Mum, you watch, while you sleep"

A Little About Jack
Jack is a 5 1/2 year old Australian Kelpie.
I adopted Jack from a shelter when he was 5 months old.
He had been beaten, burnt and starved.
The shelter estimated he had been wandering through an Industrial Estate for 3 weeks.
The first time I met Jack he ran out of his cage, straight under my legs and gave me "that" look.
So after a week of continually calling the shelter to see if his owners had claimed him (can't believe they allow that!) they announced to me that he was mine to come and adopt.

When I adopted Jack his certificate said "Rotti X". I didn't really want a Rotti but he seemed very gentle so I didn't mind.
I took him to the vet for his booster shots for the vet to say "He's a beautiful Kelpie". Hmmmm. Interesting. Turns out I had a pure bred Kelpie.

When people buy a Kelpie they cannot fathom what is involved. This is why so many are abandoned and unfortunately mistreated. This is a working sheep dog. It needs at least 4kms of exercise a day and needs to be mentally stimulated; and I was short on sheep.

Jack and I spent a year together taking trips to the beach, running through the forests, going out for breakfast, lounging around watching Dogs with Jobs on Discovery - that was before I met my husband.

A Little About Ralph
Ralph is now a 3 1/2 year old Ridgeback x Bull Mastiff
When my husband and I decided to buy our house, he wanted a dog. We toured the shelters but he had a particular type of dog in mind. It was an unusual breed and we would struggle to find an abandoned one. So I started scouring the papers.

Finally I found a litter of 6 week old Ridgeback x Bull Mastiff puppies.
Hands up who knows what Ridgebacks are bred for? For those of you who said protecting women from Lions, 10 points to you.
Ready, one, two, three - Aaawwwwww.

How could THAT protect you from Lions? Not that we have an issue with that in Australia, but it's nice to know should the need ever arise.

Ralph's first night home and he decided to cry all night. He's a puppy, that's what puppies do.
I was used to this with having already raised Jack. Hubby thought otherwise and decided this was a job for a Kelpie.

So Ralph was put out with Jack and their bond was formed.


Coming up in future posts:
- He's going to get how big?
- The backyard
- The Rack or the Jalph?
- What's that smell?
- Getting back to one's roots
- What scares the crap out of Ralph?
- Grrrrrrrrrr
and...
- When a dog's 1st Birthday goes bad

Nature - 1, Humans - 0

April 2, 2008
It started with a beautiful sunrise.
Warm, calm, peaceful.

Standing in our backyard watching this sunrise it made you think, could the weather forecasters be wrong?
We'd heard they recently installed a larger window.

By 1pm everything had changed. Houses without power, trees falling, power lines coming down, a dust storm that anyone under 30 has never seen before and sadly, tragic accidents.


The bay had a 2m swell.
"Yo Bodi, come to the bay for a surf man. Nah, seriously. Yeah, just watch out for some yacht shaped water hazards."


Eltham is known for its trees. And also for a council that doesn't like to cut them down under almost any circumstances. Nature took it out of their hands.

Ralph and Jack were beside themselves with worry.

After 9 hours without power and amazingly only 2 people had died, the weather started to settle down. On a tour of our suburb the damage was far worse than we had expected. No traffic lights, no shops open, no lights on in houses or the streets .. a deathly silence.

Then something to put it all into perspective.


We spent the night in darkness around the chiminea.
We cooked up a well balanced dinner of bacon and eggs.
We sat and thought about how lucky we were to have avoided major damage and to always respect nature.