wouldn't it be nice....

Wouldn't it be nice....

...if politicians all spoke the truth for a change? who would win the elections then?

... if politicians actually stuck to the promises they make during election time? would we beat Belgium in the longest reelection process ever? 

...if all primary school children had a mandatory field trip to an industrial production farm, a cattle transport firm and a slaughterhouse? how many of them would still eat meat the way they do now?

... if the whole monetary system seized to exist? how many people would manage to cooperate and share? as there is really plenty for all of us, it's just the distribution that is skewed...

... if all those anonimous faces behind credit rating firms and hedge funds would step up and show their faces on a TV show, saying 'hey, basically we're just throwing some wild guesses'? how many people would still take them seriously? how many countries would drive their economies further to the ground by listening to their 'advice'?

... if all manufacturers of pharmaceuticals would come clean and admit just how many pills, powders and shots they have vehemently marketed even though they knew there was harm in using them? who would still grab a prescribtion med, rather than ride it out or look for a natural cure?

... if all manufacturers of consumer goods with harmful substances would come clean and say 'you know, we actually didn't care whether you or your children got ill from using our products, but we have given it some thought and we will pay all your medical expenses now'?

.... if all people who needed a doctor could actually see one, without fearing not being able to pay the bill? how many lives would be saved that way?

.... if every single earthling would consciously and actively commit to doing at least ONE good deed every day, no matter how small? how many small miracles would be worked like that!

... if we wake up one day realising we can actually do what we always dreamt of doing, because all work is valued, not just the jobs that are measurably generating money or produce? how many people would be happier and no longer suffering from psychosomatic illnesses because they finally feel valued?

I guess I'm just a dreamer, comes with the territory of being an old hippy (the label that gets stuck on me most commonly)... but wouldn't it be great to find this kind of wishlist being granted!

another uneducated scaremongerer jumping the bsl bandwagon...

this article was in the Daily Telegraph:

http://blogs.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/mirandadevine/index.php/dailytelegraph/comments/lets_destroy_these_deadly_animals_once_and_for_all/


Sad to see another uneducated scaremongerer jumping the bsl bandwagon. First of all there is no such thing as a dangerous dog, just ignorant at best or plain thick and/or evil people at worst.  Saying some breeds are 'vicious' is just as daft, specieist and ridiculous as saying red haired women can't be trusted or black people are prone to be criminals. Secondly. Please educate yourself on dog psychology before making ridiculous statements. and just watch the statistics. The Dangerous Dog Act has been in place for over 2 decades in the UK and dog bite incidents have not gone down, in some areas they have gone UP. 
Third - again a very familiar pattern emerges. As you mention yourself, it was [i]his cousin's[/i] bull mastiff. [b]Where was the owner???[/b] How was this dog introduced to the child? Did this dog listen to anyone else but the owner? How many warning signs were ignored? Did the child ever learn how to read a dog's warning signs properly? Respect the dog's space? How to behave around a dog? My guess is the answer to all above questions is [b]no.[/b] And then you go and blame the dogs? I'm not even addressing your remark re guns kill people as I have yet to see the first gun firing itself and making a well aimed shot independently unless we are talking drones. I am anti gun ownership by the way, I just think comparing a living being that can be educated to a piece of metal is beyond daft. I am a dog guardian and have been around dogs of all sizes and dispositions for the past 20 years and I can guarantee you there is no such thing as a 'vicious breed'. As usual in bsl circles you are attacking the wrong end of the leash. The only way to reduce dog bites significantly is to uphold responsible dog guardianship. And take away dogs from their irresponsible 'owners' same as children are taken away from their irresponsible parents when necessary. And while we're at it, stop breeding and THINK before you take a dog into your family. Are you made of the right stuff to be a responsible guardian? [i]Some people just shouldn't have dogs or kids for that matter[/i] :) juss saying

brain freeeze

I think I've got brain freeze.
Which is rather odd as it is mid Summer.
Temperatures are soaring outside.
Inside my house it's cool.
Inside my brain it's... well, what is it like?

Hard to describe.
Mushy pit?
Dust bowl?
Overactively firing away short circuited lightbulb?
Merry go round on full speed with half a dozen songs playing simultaneously?
Tundra of dried up neurons and withered synapses?
*blowing away cobwebs*
*kicking own ass*

NO. it's just that so much goes on in my brain.
Sometimes all kind of things going on all at the same time.
Thoughts. Opinions. Worries. Dreams. Ideas buzzing and bouncing of the walls of my skull.
Hopes. Insecurities. Mad visions. Weird dreams. (Don't rule out the weird dreams...)
Visions of self suffience. Visions of just being able to have a paid job again.
Music. Soundbites. Films. Books. Animals. Truckloads of animals. Animals had, loved, gone, but never forgotten. And today another one was added. Schoep, the Schoepster. Twenty years old shepherd.
Yes, you are reading this right. TWENTY years old. Who spent his last years with this amazing human, John Unger, who cradled him in a lake to relieve his arthritis. Who cared for him till that day finally came. Run Free Schoep. Say hello to all my bridge babies for me.

Hah.

Bridge babies. 
Now we're getting somewhere.

Thát's where that merry go round inside my head is spinning about like crazy. Lost ones. A week from now, my beloved daddy, 27th of July it will be 3 years ago. My old shepherd mix Gaia, last October. Fae, my little fairy, who joined my dad November 3 years ago. Further back. Five members of my family in just one fateful year (2005): my cousin Tom, my auntie Mia, uncle Wout, uncle Jan and then just when we thought we'd seen enough deaths in the family, my auntie Annie, who was as close as a mother to me. My cousin Kelley, taken away far too young in an accident at just 33. My uncle Piet. My friend Hannie who just couldn't take the merry go round inside hér head anymore. Nosey, our Scooby kittehkat. Midas. My beautiful canine soulmate. Kaa, my black crow. Okkie. My first own dog who stayed with me up to the age of 17. All those Scooby dogs. Triston, Osho, Patas, Orejas. Even further back, my mum, way back in 1995. And so many more...

Most days I'm doing fine and the lack of their physical presense is not as poignant as right now. That's because I believe that one day we'll meet again. Not on some cloudy meadow around a supreme being, but in the athmosphere around us. In the vibes that are in the air. In the wind, the dust, the grains of sands. In spirit. I really do believe that, even though some people'd say I'm bonkers. I think it is a wonderful idea. Whether you call it a Rainbow Bridge or eternal hunting grounds, it's a reassuring feeling, trusting in having all those that are gone really still around you in some shape of form, with their energies. Call me a nutter but as I am typing this the sun just broke through the clouds again. Boy oh boy, that's going to be one massive cuddlefest when I get there!

Until then I am going to follow up my own advice. 'If all else fails, HUG THE DOG'.
Galgos, hairy scaries, cuddles coming your way!

Roadworks

The human brain is much like a road map. Our behaviour is basically lots of neurons firing away along a myriad of pathways. Some are narrow country roads with loads of little paths going off in all directions, those are the ones we don't use much. Others are littered with road blocks and gaps, making it difficult to get from A to B in our mind swiftly. Others are like 6-lane expressways, well trodden, paved and broad and clear in purpose and design. Those are the ones we use the most. Some of those express ways are good, they get regular maintenance by us doing things on a daily basis, whether it's riding a bike, brushing our teeth or doing things in our professional lives. Some however are also well paved and maintained but we really don't need that destination anymore. They are dysfunctional, taking us somewhere we don't want to be, some place that makes us feel lousy about ourselves. Yet it's like once we head down that direction there's no exit, no detour possible, we're flying on, full throttle, realising somewhere in the back of our heads (on another, simultanious pathway, albeit a much smaller one), that we really shouldn't be doing this. It's the kind of behaviour or thinking that doesn't work for us, doesn't make us happy, basically doesn't get us anywhere. Because when we slow down we realise we are about to hit a very familiar dead end. Or a brick wall. Result either way is feeling like crap once arrived at the destination.

So what can we do about this? Good thing is, we got permanent road works going on in that magnificent brain of ours. All the time new pathways are being paved, new exits constructed, new destinations added. But how can we prevent ourselves from zooming down our personal highway to hell time and time again? Actually, realising that we are indeed on the wrong expressway is the first step to start new roadworks. Recently I realised after a good session with my therapist that one of my expressways was a 8-lane track, which always led to thinking bad about myself and about my own abilities. Nobody bid on my paintings offered for auction? ZOOM! Enter audio tape in head: "They hate my paintings. See, I'm a lousy painter. I suck. I'm no good." But are those thoughts true? And are they helpful?

Well as far as the first bit is concerned, I know I'm no Michelangelo. But there's also a crisis going on. So it's very possible people just spent less on the auction anyways. Or maybe there was just no one who liked my style of painting. Doesn't mean my painting sucks, only means they're not for everyone's liking. Helpful? Nah. Just makes me feel bad about myself and forget about all the ones that díd sell. So instead of zooming down that 8-laner thinking 'see, I suck', I better look at alternative routes. Like the 'You can't always be lucky' lane. Or 'Ah well it's a crisis out there, happens to everyone' alley. Note, I'm not going down 'But I'm a genius they just don't see that' road because I am 200% sure that one ends in a big bucket full of shite. Don't want to end up there!

Looking back, it all goes back to both being bullied as a child and having had a mother who failed coping with losing her first child. I thought that having good talks with some of my childhood bullies and having that EMDR session with my late mother would put things like that on the shelf where they belong, but brain infrastructure doesn't work that way. I'm no longer angry at those who bullied me and I forgave my mum, but the echoes of things that were said still linger. "You are not one of us". "We don't want you on our team". "Our oldest wouldn't have let me down like that". "You're a disappointment". "All my efforts raising you were in vain".

Somehow, in some specific situations and especially when I'm already having a bad day, those echoes tune up a notch and come to the forefront, and on some days they just take over, blurting out all the positive thoughts. Those days just suck, big time. Those days I feel like utterly inadequate, a huge failure, and not belonging anywhere. Heading straight for that brick wall (and usually ending up with a splitting headache and my intestines in a knot afterwards).

It's on days like those that I have to take up a wheelbarrow and a machete and start hacking through all that negativity, shovelling all the shite down the gutter where it belongs and claiming back my right to be, my right to be fallible without being a total loser, my right to enjoy myself, my right to love myself and feel loved. And on other days as well, work to do! Getting a compliment or even giving myself a thumbs up still feels strange, but I'm working on it. That 8-lane monster now has some lanes closed, and there are exits in progress. Some of those exits are just wee dirt roads, others are getting a layer of gravel, and I'm working on getting them all paved, connected and putting up another road block so I can't zoom down my own highway to hell anymore in the future. And íf I go partly down there, there will be a couple of detours making sure I see there are other ways.

Yep. I got roadworks to do. It'll be messy, and there will be the usual miscalculations and construction errors no doubt. But I'm getting there. And if all else fails, I hug the dogs <3

book review: Fast Dog, Cool Cat, Hot Dog and a Time for Action, by Arnold Haber

Fast Dog, Cool Cat, Hot Dog and A Time For Action - by Arnold Haber

Illustrations by Audrey Walker

Published by Dyllie Productions, Playa del Rey, California, May 2012

What DOES he think right now? Many a dog owner wondered about that when observing the family dog. Adopting a retired racing hound adds even new dimensions to this question. In Arnold Haber's wonderful little tale we first meet Comet, a retired greyhound who changes a life at the tracks for a loving family home. We are onlookers, taking a sneak peek into a dog's thoughts while witnessing Comet as he discovers the wonders of everyday life and all those little mundane things we take for granted, but which are great unknown things for a houndie putting his paw across the threshold of a family home for the very first time: the everyday noises of vacuum cleaners and fridges, the smells of glorious food, the oh so frightening staircase and mirrors. And of course the joys of having a lovely fluffy bed all to himself!

Comet is not alone on this journey, he has his new family to guide him, most of all his instant best friend, the family's daughter, Patty. As he ventures into the great unknown that is the back yard, he also meets another unlikely companion: the streetwise cat Rodrigo, who shows him the ropes. Goes to show hounds and cats can be friends!

Later on the family adds yet another companion, an Alaskan Malamute, Igloo, whose biggest challenge is coping with the warm climate.

Together the friends discuss the merits of living with Patty and her family and all those things a dog living in the city just can't do without. When Patty finds herself in trouble with some schoolyard bullies the three furry friends stick up for her like modern day musketeers, even to the point of doing something very daring.

The story unfolds as a wonderful tale of friendship, trust and self-esteem. All of us who own dogs will tell you what wonderful companions they make for children growing up, and the bond between Patty, Comet and Igloo is a great example.

Nice read for both younger and older readers. Haber uses easy language and has managed to put layers in his story enabling both younger and older children to find discussion points, on themes that touch any age. Looking forward to more adventures, no doubt Rodrigo will have a lot more up his sleeve to keep his canine and human friends occupied!

the merits of being a couch potato?

There's a bench in the room I'm in. Some people are sitting on it. Only their legs and knees can be seen from where I am. A tiny dog, type pincher, walks in and lifts a leg to have a merry pee on one of the legs. I'm laughing out loud. Sounds coming through. A voice. The news anchor of Studio Brussels. Update. It is Eleven o'Clock. Shoot! I wanted to take on of the cats to the vet today.

Awakening sweeps in, and I drift in and out of consciousness. I want to open my eyes, I need to wake up, now, come on already! But it won't work. My eyes drop back shut, it's dark again. A creaking sound, like the front door when it's left ajar and is moved by the wind. Surely it can't be? Panic. My eyes won't open. Sure there is no one in the house? An intruder? A sensation of being disconnected from reality sets in. Could this be what it's like when you're dying? Nothing, no sensation for a split second. Yikes... I shake my head. Somehow this makes things snap back into their proper position, because my eyes open this time and hurray, I am awake. Still a bit drowsy, I take a look around me.


Becoming aware of my surroundings seems to last forever. Outside, the sun is shining and the light is flooding through my flimsy curtains. The cupboard, on top of it 'Trees', the statue of Saint Theresia that got a makeover from my boyfriend by dripping red wax all over her and adorned with jolly little skulls. My collection of decorative rats and crows. The little couch below the window, where Sid is lying, snoring contendly, his face dug snugly into the sheepskin. Zoom in. Luka lying on my feet. Her long galgo nose leans on the coffee table. Zoom closer. Another galgo's head, gone white over the years. A pair of eyes, squinting peacefully, a big black nose and a couple of long feet like a hare's on my shoulder. A bit to the side two cat gents, occupying my chest and belly. Their little heads are turned to me. Next to me on the floor two huge dog paws testify for the presence of some 60 kilos of mastin stretched out behind the coffee table. 
 
I stir. Nancy's paws stretch and contract. Long galgo toes are pressed into my shoulder. Two almond shaped eyes open, followed suit by a long yawn, emitting a rather foul smell. Old dog's mouth, slightly uremic from grooming his pito. Next to him two pairs of cat's eyes appear, and two little mouths open simultaneously. Smell of fish. I turn my head. Pheweee what a smell! In the mean time, the rest of my body has awoken too. I'm hungry, I need to go to the bathroom, I have to take a shower, will I be at the vet's in time ... no I won't. That will be another day, then. Good thing that it's not anything urgent.
Once finished showering I peek into the living room. My spot on the couch is occupied again, my duvet is much appreciated. All four of them are totally knock out, again. I wonder, do they ever wake up feeling drowsy and disconnected? Or maybe they are in a permanent state of haziness, blissfully unaware of what goes on around them. I really should not pursue this mastery of couchpotatoeship too often, especially during the day. That is better left to the dogs. After all, they have made their couchpotatoeship into an art form.