The trouble with not writing for a while is the backlog of life just becomes a jumble….
A dog: we found a dog from a rescue centre… they didn’t need a home visit just some pictures of the garden, some vet bills (to prove we’ve already been responsible owners) and a wadge of cash (a bit of a swizz as the dog had only spent one night in a foster home between his own home and ours… hasn’t been chipped or ‘done’)…. but he’s lovely, a terrier cross called Lucky MacBatears Michael (the space in his name is important…its a paws)… he came with his first name…we inflicted the rest on him.
I feel slightly guilty that I somehow neglected to photograph the river…. but as he is a small dog who walks round (or jumps over) puddles… I’m not worried about him making abid for freedom down the river and having watched the river bank carefully since the RSPCA lady warned us about ‘things’ coming out of the river, to harm any dog we don’t protect with a fence, I can safely report no pikes on bikes… no gun toting swans… no coots who kill.
We’ve provided a loving home for a little dog…. and in return he walks me so much I’ve nearly lost half a stone in a fortnight.
an owl: I’ve had all my locks chopped off… I’m now naturally grey (mostly). I’ve wanted to go grey since I found my first grey hair at 18. It’s taken a while – and I’m still not totally there yet but as I approached 45 (Jane got me the pooch for my birthday) I suddenly thought ‘why am i dyeing my hair when I’m happy to be grey?’ As I watch Jane turn all manner of cartwheels to be able to happily say ‘this is me’…. it feels so easy to just stop doing something I’ve done for years and just say ‘this is me’. My cigar smoking bear thinks it makes me look like a wise old owl.
And last but not least the bear himself.
Another couple of days over there – a wonderful couple of days (unfortunately I couldn’t take the dog as he gets very car sick and we need to build his tolerance up or get some decent drugs for him). It was a hectic couple of days for the bear, he was mid crisis preceding a trip abroad… but I took a good book and read when he was busy… and even better curled up in bed with said book when he was busy. Bliss… a place where staying in bed with a book doesn’t make me feel guilty.
Other than that, life goes on… easter been and gone… my birthday been and gone (possibly one of my better birthdays, a dog, chocolates, flowers, coloured glass)… my mothers visit…. school holidays…. Jane and i starting to talk through some stuff…
tomorrow I’m booked in for the start of a new block of therapy (cbt wasn’t cutting the mustard for me)… at the moment i feel on top of the world… but I’ll go and let them poke me with a pokey stick. Like a compost heap we all could do with a poke and a turn from time to time I guess.