Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Monday, July 2, 2007
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Post Script ...
Does everybody know about those special council rubbish pick ups that happen a couple of times a year?
The ones where you dump in the front yard all the shit that is too bad for the op shop and too large for the bin?
And then all the povo ferals (students excepted) suddenly appear from nowhere and steal it before it even gets to rubbish pick up day?
Flashback to about half an hour ago:
2.30pm: Paul puts Ansett freight cat carrier, cat bowls with food remains still in them (umm ... our cat died about 18 months ago) and cat scratching post in front of house.
2.35pm: cat carrier and feral cat bowls taken by car driving by. Scratching post is left behind.
What? Our scratching post not scratch-tastic enough for you? Well screw you cat lady!
The ones where you dump in the front yard all the shit that is too bad for the op shop and too large for the bin?
And then all the povo ferals (students excepted) suddenly appear from nowhere and steal it before it even gets to rubbish pick up day?
Flashback to about half an hour ago:
2.30pm: Paul puts Ansett freight cat carrier, cat bowls with food remains still in them (umm ... our cat died about 18 months ago) and cat scratching post in front of house.
2.35pm: cat carrier and feral cat bowls taken by car driving by. Scratching post is left behind.
What? Our scratching post not scratch-tastic enough for you? Well screw you cat lady!
Hello Cool World
The doggy "something big is going down" radar has been working overtime as we get ready to move to Toowoomba.
Over the past three weeks we have been encouraging the dogs to grow their fur and threatening them with visits to Uncle Warney at Advanced Hair Studio if they don't.
(I think Leo and Warney would have lots in common)
We have also updated their wardrobe for their new life in chilly Toowoomba.
Kinta: "It's Poochie Daarling"
(Gucci/Poochie ... get it?)
Leo: "What. the. **ck. Is. With. These. **cking. Ducks?"
Saturday, May 12, 2007
The world is Leo's toilet
$20, a wayward German Shorthaired Pointer and a cock 'n' crap ...
This best describes our Saturday afternoon.
Wanting to give our furkids the physically and mentally-enriching experience of a bush walk ...
(and because we couldn't be arsed having our shoulders dislocated by amphetimine-fuelled kelpies on a mission to pee on as many bushes and sniff as much dirt as possible while still trying to run flat out on a leash)
... we took the dogs on an afternoon walk to a local nature park.
Leisurely? Never.
Eventful? Hell yeah.
Involving poo and pee? Always!
Realising that I hadn't posted a dog blog for a couple of weeks, I took the camera on what is normally a pretty mundane event.
But, luckily, not today.
Exhibit Number One: This is how our dogs "roll" ...
After alighting at the nature park
Leo: "Can't-talk-now-smell-dead-bird"
Cue that music from that scene in Rainman where Tom Cruise has kidnapped Dustin Hoffman from that mental home ..
This best describes our Saturday afternoon.
Wanting to give our furkids the physically and mentally-enriching experience of a bush walk ...
(and because we couldn't be arsed having our shoulders dislocated by amphetimine-fuelled kelpies on a mission to pee on as many bushes and sniff as much dirt as possible while still trying to run flat out on a leash)
... we took the dogs on an afternoon walk to a local nature park.
Leisurely? Never.
Eventful? Hell yeah.
Involving poo and pee? Always!
Realising that I hadn't posted a dog blog for a couple of weeks, I took the camera on what is normally a pretty mundane event.
But, luckily, not today.
Exhibit Number One: This is how our dogs "roll" ...
After alighting at the nature park
(did anybody, ANYBODY detect the "COPS" reference there?)
the dogs did their customary thing of running ahead of us, turning around and running back, running ahead of us again, diverting into the bush when something smelled interesting, then running back to us again ... you get the idea.
Well, this is what Kinta does.
Leo runs ahead ... stops ... turns around and goes back ... does a pee ... scratches up some dirt ... assures himself that he has still got "it"... starts running again ... stops ... turns around and goes back ... does another pee .. scratches up some dirt ... etc etc.
Waaay too much XXXX Gold.
Anway, I was trying to capture the "post-pee scratching up the dirt ecstasy" on camera as it really is quite magical ... (sort of like the doggy equivalent of a really good burn-out)
But, the little bastard either wouldn't scratch up or I missed it with the camera.
I ask Paul to "mark" a tree for me to encourage Leo to urinate (hey, it works in the back yard when we have bbqs).
Paul said no.
Then it happened ... I was all 100% Steve Parrish with the camera ... Leo approaches the bush ... he sniffs .. he cocks his leg ...
he executes what I believe to be the first ever witnessed ...
"cock 'n' crap".
Picture it.
Cock.
Then.
Crap.
I was too busy laughing to take the photo.
Moving right along ... a German short-haired pointer dog emerged from the bush shortly after.
We tried to coax it over to us as we could hear its owner calling it.
But, this pooch took one look at us, remembered watching "Wolf Creek" and ran back to his owners.
In a My Name is Earl-esque moment, I then found a $20 note on the track.
The My Name is Earl reference is because I lost $20 out of my pocket a couple of months ago when I was walking Leo in the ghetto ...
(Bundaberg streets between Walker, Targo, Boundary and the CBD)
... and a feral dog ran towards us teeth bared and snarling while his feral owners looked on.
Karma baby, Karma.
(Karma swiftly translated into 3 x Jacobs Creek whites for $20 at the Old Bundy Tavern)
Poo aside, it was a nice walk and here are some nice, 100% poo reference-less photographs with which to finish this post:
Leo: "Can't-talk-now-smell-dead-bird"
Cue that music from that scene in Rainman where Tom Cruise has kidnapped Dustin Hoffman from that mental home ..
Perfect specimens of Kelpiness ... smart arse comments unrequired.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Two kelpies with extra salt please
We ll got up this morning and the sun was shining, the wind wasn't blowing and all was well with the world ...
(except that today is my 31st birthday)
(god that sucks)
As it looked like being such a beautiful day
(and as a way of forgetting that I am now even more freakin older than I was yesterday), we decided to take the puppies out on the boat on the Elliott River.
From the moment that Paul started up the boat and opened up the garage doors, the pups knew something was up.
Kinta is constantly at war with small engines and flips out whenever one starts up.
She used to try and bite the tyres of the quad bike on the farm and would bark at it whenever Paul started it up.
The mower and whippersnipper also incur her wrath.
All it took today was for her to hear the beep of the outboard and she launched into what we like to call "All Two-strokes Must Die".
However, this doesn't stop Kinta launching into the water and swimming like Thorpey on crack.
(Or what I imagine Thorpey on crack to swim like if he was on crack, which of course he isn't)
Leo is more of a poser than an athlete at the beach ... he just struts around on the shore in his white budgie smugglers, showing off his doghood to the laaadies.
But they both HATE it when one of us goes completely underwater. I was snorkelling on the surface today and when I went under Leo came swimming toward me barking and trying to touch my head.
When Paul jumped off the side of the boat to snorkel and the dogs and I stayed in the boat, Kinta went crazy yelping and barking and trying to jump over the side to reach him.
Anway, lots of fun had by all and we now have two very salty, very tired dogs in the backyard.
Kinta: "Thank heavens you're back Captain. I was about to throw Commander Kris in the brig and assume control of this vessel. Seaman Leo: as you were."
(except that today is my 31st birthday)
(god that sucks)
As it looked like being such a beautiful day
(and as a way of forgetting that I am now even more freakin older than I was yesterday), we decided to take the puppies out on the boat on the Elliott River.
From the moment that Paul started up the boat and opened up the garage doors, the pups knew something was up.
Kinta is constantly at war with small engines and flips out whenever one starts up.
She used to try and bite the tyres of the quad bike on the farm and would bark at it whenever Paul started it up.
The mower and whippersnipper also incur her wrath.
All it took today was for her to hear the beep of the outboard and she launched into what we like to call "All Two-strokes Must Die".
However, this doesn't stop Kinta launching into the water and swimming like Thorpey on crack.
(Or what I imagine Thorpey on crack to swim like if he was on crack, which of course he isn't)
Leo is more of a poser than an athlete at the beach ... he just struts around on the shore in his white budgie smugglers, showing off his doghood to the laaadies.
But they both HATE it when one of us goes completely underwater. I was snorkelling on the surface today and when I went under Leo came swimming toward me barking and trying to touch my head.
When Paul jumped off the side of the boat to snorkel and the dogs and I stayed in the boat, Kinta went crazy yelping and barking and trying to jump over the side to reach him.
Anway, lots of fun had by all and we now have two very salty, very tired dogs in the backyard.
Kinta: "Thank heavens you're back Captain. I was about to throw Commander Kris in the brig and assume control of this vessel. Seaman Leo: as you were."
Leo:
"In the navy Yes, you can sail the seven seas
In the navy Yes, you can put your mind at ease
In the navy Come on now, people, make a stand
In the navy, in the navy Can't you see we need a hand
They want you, they want you, they want you as a new recruit ...
Holy shit that's a big bird!"
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Beware of killer camels
We have just returned from an Easter break in Victoria and Brisbane, hence the absence of dogblog updates.
While in Victoria I had another one of my extremely disturbing "Leo gets murdered" dreams.
I have had many dreams in which Leo meets his maker (hence taking him away from his mummy).
This one is a cracker ...
Ok. So here's how it played out ....
Two camels came charging up from the horizon and trampled Leo to death.
(Yes, camels.)
Then, as I am throwing myself over Leo's furry little body, weeping and cursing God, these goddam lowlife murdering camels ask me to help them transform back into humans.
(Yes, these camels could talk.)
And you know the weirdest thing about this dream?
(Yes, the weirdest is yet to come.)
These camels weren't just any camels.
These camels weren't your nasty-spitting-stinking-pay $10 for a ride at an ag show-camels.
These were celebrity camels.
The camels that trampled Leo to death were .....
TOYOTA RAV4 CAMELS!!
While in Victoria I had another one of my extremely disturbing "Leo gets murdered" dreams.
I have had many dreams in which Leo meets his maker (hence taking him away from his mummy).
This one is a cracker ...
Ok. So here's how it played out ....
Two camels came charging up from the horizon and trampled Leo to death.
(Yes, camels.)
Then, as I am throwing myself over Leo's furry little body, weeping and cursing God, these goddam lowlife murdering camels ask me to help them transform back into humans.
(Yes, these camels could talk.)
And you know the weirdest thing about this dream?
(Yes, the weirdest is yet to come.)
These camels weren't just any camels.
These camels weren't your nasty-spitting-stinking-pay $10 for a ride at an ag show-camels.
These were celebrity camels.
The camels that trampled Leo to death were .....
TOYOTA RAV4 CAMELS!!
You're laughin' now pal ... but you won't be laughin when you incur the wrath of a momma avengin' the murderin' of her young-un.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Leo does ... well.. nothing special
Monday April 2, 2007
In an unprecedented move, Leo and Kinta have done nothing particularly remarkable for nearly a week now.
So, here are a few random photos from the fur kid family album.
Kinta: "I've told you a thousand times: no means no."
Leo: "Weeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Satan's sheepdog: Leo (right) at 16 weeks with Kinta
Sea dogs - at Elliott Heads, Queensland December 2006
Winter in Glen Innes, New South Wales, 2003
(they jumped straight in the water)
In an unprecedented move, Leo and Kinta have done nothing particularly remarkable for nearly a week now.
So, here are a few random photos from the fur kid family album.
Kinta: "I've told you a thousand times: no means no."
Leo: "Weeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Satan's sheepdog: Leo (right) at 16 weeks with Kinta
Sea dogs - at Elliott Heads, Queensland December 2006
Winter in Glen Innes, New South Wales, 2003(they jumped straight in the water)
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Leo gets the job done
Leo: "I could patrol the perimeter or I could keep the pigeons off the shed roof or I could even perhaps lie in wait under the house for a Mormon or two. But instead, I'm just gonna lie here ...
Right here in the middle of the yard where nobody will ever see me."
Monday, March 26, 2007
Kinta farewells her uterus (again)
Monday March 26, 2007
Today was pretty traumatic for Kinta.
Not only did she have to deal with another female on her turf (see story on The Moose below) but she had to say goodbye to her second uterus.
Come to think of it, she probably didn't say goodbye to her first uterus.
A strange man just patted her head until she just fell into a relaxing, drug-induced puppy sleep and when she woke up it was gone and she had stitches in her belly.
Her second uterus was our 1995 white Holden Rodeo ute.
Kinta and Leo loved that uterus. When Kinta heard the doors unlock, she knew that a uterus-propelled adventure was on the agenda.
This is the uterus that helped Kinta stalk and hurl abusive barks at trucks and vans on the many kilometres of highway between Bundaberg and Glen Innes.
Only trucks and vans, never cars.
Car stalking is for pussies.
This is the uterus that carried Kinta and Leo to the beach for long swims on weekend afternoons.
Kinta and Leo would hear the loud feral rumblings of the diesel uterus as I rounded the corner on the way home from work. They would be waiting at the gates to greet me, all big doggy grins and wagging tails.
Kinta, Leo and the Uterus in happier times
Kinta, Leo and the Uterus in not so happier times
And to answer your question, yes that is doggy diarrhoea.
Tonight when the new owners came to take possession of Kinta's second uterus, she was a bit concerned.
As the uterus drove towards the gate, Kinta dropped her toy and ran behind it, her eyes darting back and forth between it and us.
It was like she was saying "Why are they taking my ute? They aren't taking my ute are they? They are just borrowing it aren't they? Like that time Aunty Liz and Uncle Joe borrowed it to move house? Right dad? Right dad? Dad?"
We explained to Kinta that we had bought her a much newer, much faster, much more comfortable and much more bloody expensive blue uterus and she had best shut her furry mouth and show some darn appreciation.
She seemed to get over the loss of the white uterus pretty quickly.
(Of course she did Kris you crazy dog lady. Kinta's a dog ... a DOG)
But, I don't think she will ever forget the fun times she had in the white uterus.
Leo certainly won't forget the wave of Kinta's post-beach spray poo that slapped his doggy face at 100 kilometres per hour on the road between Elliott Heads and Bundaberg.
Today was pretty traumatic for Kinta.
Not only did she have to deal with another female on her turf (see story on The Moose below) but she had to say goodbye to her second uterus.
Come to think of it, she probably didn't say goodbye to her first uterus.
A strange man just patted her head until she just fell into a relaxing, drug-induced puppy sleep and when she woke up it was gone and she had stitches in her belly.
Her second uterus was our 1995 white Holden Rodeo ute.
Kinta and Leo loved that uterus. When Kinta heard the doors unlock, she knew that a uterus-propelled adventure was on the agenda.
This is the uterus that helped Kinta stalk and hurl abusive barks at trucks and vans on the many kilometres of highway between Bundaberg and Glen Innes.
Only trucks and vans, never cars.
Car stalking is for pussies.
This is the uterus that carried Kinta and Leo to the beach for long swims on weekend afternoons.
Kinta and Leo would hear the loud feral rumblings of the diesel uterus as I rounded the corner on the way home from work. They would be waiting at the gates to greet me, all big doggy grins and wagging tails.
Kinta, Leo and the Uterus in happier times
Kinta, Leo and the Uterus in not so happier times
And to answer your question, yes that is doggy diarrhoea.
Tonight when the new owners came to take possession of Kinta's second uterus, she was a bit concerned.
As the uterus drove towards the gate, Kinta dropped her toy and ran behind it, her eyes darting back and forth between it and us.
It was like she was saying "Why are they taking my ute? They aren't taking my ute are they? They are just borrowing it aren't they? Like that time Aunty Liz and Uncle Joe borrowed it to move house? Right dad? Right dad? Dad?"
We explained to Kinta that we had bought her a much newer, much faster, much more comfortable and much more bloody expensive blue uterus and she had best shut her furry mouth and show some darn appreciation.
She seemed to get over the loss of the white uterus pretty quickly.
(Of course she did Kris you crazy dog lady. Kinta's a dog ... a DOG)
But, I don't think she will ever forget the fun times she had in the white uterus.
Leo certainly won't forget the wave of Kinta's post-beach spray poo that slapped his doggy face at 100 kilometres per hour on the road between Elliott Heads and Bundaberg.
Leo tunes a moose
Monday March 26, 2007
Leo picked up this afternoon and didn't even have to buy the lucky lady a single drink.
He didn't even have to leave our street.
We were heading out on our daily walk when his eyes met a loose lassie who was strutting her stuff, working the whole street.
It was lust at first sight, with Leo particularly taken with her multiple heaving nipples.
We bought her into the yard as we didn't like the idea of her running down the street and possibly getting hit by a car.
As you can see by the photo, the car could come off second best.
This dog is a moose!
Anyway, I suspect that she prefers the ladies but Leo still tried to become her bitch.
Exhibit One: Leo attempts to stick the tongue in
After about 10 minutes in the cage, we decided to lock Leo and Kinta up on the deck so The Moose could have free reign of the backyard.
After determining that Leo wasn't going to follow through on the pick-up, we called The Moose a maxi taxi.
And by maxi taxi, I mean the local Animal Control van.
Alas, Leo shoots but Leo does not score.
On a serious note: this is at least the fourth time that I have called animal control in the past year to pick up a dog that has either followed me home or turned up in our front yard. I am so sick of it!! If the owners of these dogs would just put a tag with the dog's name and phone number on it I would ring them up to come and collect it. But since these owners don't, I feel absolutely no guilt about calling animal control to come and pick them up, thus landing the owners a hefty fine. Getting the dog off the street is a much safer option for the dog - whose welfare I care much more about than the owner's finances.
These people don't seem to care about their dog and certainly don't have any respect for the people who could be threatened by it or worse - swerve to avoid hitting it and have a car accident. Dog owners - get your shit together!
Leo picked up this afternoon and didn't even have to buy the lucky lady a single drink.
He didn't even have to leave our street.
We were heading out on our daily walk when his eyes met a loose lassie who was strutting her stuff, working the whole street.
It was lust at first sight, with Leo particularly taken with her multiple heaving nipples.
We bought her into the yard as we didn't like the idea of her running down the street and possibly getting hit by a car.
As you can see by the photo, the car could come off second best.
This dog is a moose!
Anyway, I suspect that she prefers the ladies but Leo still tried to become her bitch.
Exhibit One: Leo attempts to stick the tongue in
After about 10 minutes in the cage, we decided to lock Leo and Kinta up on the deck so The Moose could have free reign of the backyard.
After determining that Leo wasn't going to follow through on the pick-up, we called The Moose a maxi taxi.
And by maxi taxi, I mean the local Animal Control van.
Alas, Leo shoots but Leo does not score.
On a serious note: this is at least the fourth time that I have called animal control in the past year to pick up a dog that has either followed me home or turned up in our front yard. I am so sick of it!! If the owners of these dogs would just put a tag with the dog's name and phone number on it I would ring them up to come and collect it. But since these owners don't, I feel absolutely no guilt about calling animal control to come and pick them up, thus landing the owners a hefty fine. Getting the dog off the street is a much safer option for the dog - whose welfare I care much more about than the owner's finances.
These people don't seem to care about their dog and certainly don't have any respect for the people who could be threatened by it or worse - swerve to avoid hitting it and have a car accident. Dog owners - get your shit together!
Friday, March 23, 2007
Update on the candle muncher
Friday March 23, 2007
A quick update on Leo the candle muncher ...
he was absolutely fine, with no side effects whatsoever (that we could ascertain).
As a result, we are no longer spending $15 a month on a bag of dogfood for Leo and Kinta.
Kinta can have one bag every two months and Leo can eat all the feral candles we have laying around the house.
So far he likes scented ones the best.
Donations are welcome.
(To all you animal rights people out there - I am only joking. Tempted, but only joking. Please don't take away my babies.)
A quick update on Leo the candle muncher ...
he was absolutely fine, with no side effects whatsoever (that we could ascertain).
As a result, we are no longer spending $15 a month on a bag of dogfood for Leo and Kinta.
Kinta can have one bag every two months and Leo can eat all the feral candles we have laying around the house.
So far he likes scented ones the best.
Donations are welcome.
(To all you animal rights people out there - I am only joking. Tempted, but only joking. Please don't take away my babies.)
Monday, March 19, 2007
Leo hits a new culinary low
Monday March 19, 2007
Leo is renowned for eating all sorts of things that he shouldn't. He eats macadamia nuts every day despite reports that these nuts cause paralysis in dogs. He's still walkin'.
Then there was the time he ate a roofing screw. How do we know he ate it? Because Paul extracted it from where it was deposited: lovingly giftwrapped amid a freshly laid dog poo.
But tonight, Leo hit a new culinary low.
Tonight, Leo ate a candle.
Some people use candles to add ambience to a dinner table.
Some dogs mistake a candle for a spring roll and feel pretty special and not at all suspicious about having - just once - entrees before mains.
Our dogs were taught at an early age that our yard is filled with "forbidden zones" and imaginary lines that are not crossed without prior human approval.
Tonight, Paul was cleaning out the garage and had the garage doors up. The candle (aka doggy spring roll) was located approximately two metres inside the garage (well within the forbidden zone).
The next time Paul looked up, Leo was on the grass (a safe zone) munching away on something.
Paul questioned Leo with a very stern "Leo, what is that?"
Leo understood that Paul was not asking if he wanted soy sauce.
Leo dropped the candle, wiggled his bum and crawled towards Paul with his chin low - waay low.
Those who own dogs will know what this action signifies.
It's the "the shit's going down and in order to save myself I must look as cowardly, apologetic and powerless as possible" defence mechanism that is a dog like Leo's only chance of avoiding a megadose of whoop-arse.
While distracted from the candle, Kinta moved in to have a sniff.
But, harnessing her built-in superdoggy scanning device, Kinta quickly ascertained that candles weren't a viable food source and wandered off.
Ok Kinta, we get it.
You're a freakin' prodigy.
What more do you want from me?
Anyway, Paul estimates Leo was chowing down on the candle for about 5 minutes and ate half of it.
Pre-Leo, the candle was 10cm long.
Now it's 5cm long.
Exhibit One: the candle
Exhibit Two: the dumbarse dog that ate it
Leo my friend, it's going to be a long night.
Leo is renowned for eating all sorts of things that he shouldn't. He eats macadamia nuts every day despite reports that these nuts cause paralysis in dogs. He's still walkin'.
Then there was the time he ate a roofing screw. How do we know he ate it? Because Paul extracted it from where it was deposited: lovingly giftwrapped amid a freshly laid dog poo.
But tonight, Leo hit a new culinary low.
Tonight, Leo ate a candle.
Some people use candles to add ambience to a dinner table.
Some dogs mistake a candle for a spring roll and feel pretty special and not at all suspicious about having - just once - entrees before mains.
Our dogs were taught at an early age that our yard is filled with "forbidden zones" and imaginary lines that are not crossed without prior human approval.
Tonight, Paul was cleaning out the garage and had the garage doors up. The candle (aka doggy spring roll) was located approximately two metres inside the garage (well within the forbidden zone).
The next time Paul looked up, Leo was on the grass (a safe zone) munching away on something.
Paul questioned Leo with a very stern "Leo, what is that?"
Leo understood that Paul was not asking if he wanted soy sauce.
Leo dropped the candle, wiggled his bum and crawled towards Paul with his chin low - waay low.
Those who own dogs will know what this action signifies.
It's the "the shit's going down and in order to save myself I must look as cowardly, apologetic and powerless as possible" defence mechanism that is a dog like Leo's only chance of avoiding a megadose of whoop-arse.
While distracted from the candle, Kinta moved in to have a sniff.
But, harnessing her built-in superdoggy scanning device, Kinta quickly ascertained that candles weren't a viable food source and wandered off.
Ok Kinta, we get it.
You're a freakin' prodigy.
What more do you want from me?
Anyway, Paul estimates Leo was chowing down on the candle for about 5 minutes and ate half of it.
Pre-Leo, the candle was 10cm long.
Now it's 5cm long.
Exhibit One: the candle
Exhibit Two: the dumbarse dog that ate it
Leo my friend, it's going to be a long night.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Me and my blogs - Introductions
Sunday March 18, 2007
Dogs are weird. Writing is hard.
As a professional marketing writer, I have spent years formulating and executing a myriad schmicko spiels for all sorts of clients on all sorts of topics.
However I have recently (and due to my increasing thirst for cash) decided to attempt a triumphant return to my creative writing origins.
These origins saw me storm to victory in numerous Goondiwindi annual agricultural show storywriting competitions. Guess who was a MAJOR prize winner during BookWeek 1989 for one of my original works of fiction? Yup, me. I even have the Robin Klein book with a certificate Clagged into the inside cover to prove it.
And - not being one to boast - guess who also had not one but two stories published in that well-known and respected national children's magazine of the 1980s "KidZone"? That was me again.
So, this blog is part of my attempt to hone my writing skills in a different genre - creative writing. Here I will forgo all notions of brevity, omit marketing-speak and just let it all hang out.
I have decided to devote this blog to the antics of my two dogs Kinta and Leo.
Those who know me won't be suprised. Those who don't know me will think I am pathetic. Either way, I'm good. I'll cope. I was an exchange student in a US highschool for 12 months. I am comfortable with social rejection.
Character Overview
Kinta
Dogs are weird. Writing is hard.
As a professional marketing writer, I have spent years formulating and executing a myriad schmicko spiels for all sorts of clients on all sorts of topics.
However I have recently (and due to my increasing thirst for cash) decided to attempt a triumphant return to my creative writing origins.
These origins saw me storm to victory in numerous Goondiwindi annual agricultural show storywriting competitions. Guess who was a MAJOR prize winner during BookWeek 1989 for one of my original works of fiction? Yup, me. I even have the Robin Klein book with a certificate Clagged into the inside cover to prove it.
And - not being one to boast - guess who also had not one but two stories published in that well-known and respected national children's magazine of the 1980s "KidZone"? That was me again.
So, this blog is part of my attempt to hone my writing skills in a different genre - creative writing. Here I will forgo all notions of brevity, omit marketing-speak and just let it all hang out.
I have decided to devote this blog to the antics of my two dogs Kinta and Leo.
Those who know me won't be suprised. Those who don't know me will think I am pathetic. Either way, I'm good. I'll cope. I was an exchange student in a US highschool for 12 months. I am comfortable with social rejection.
Character Overview
Kinta
Kinta is a 6 year old female (desexed) chocolate Kelpie. She was born in Glenarbon (near Inglewood) to working dog parents in June 2000. Kinta is a frustratingly smart dog with a wide vocabulary and a fetish for toys. It's all about the toys. If Kinta was a human, she would be diagnosed with autism. She is scared of storms and fireworks. I didn't realise this, but the stack of crappy green outdoor chairs on our deck is actually an inpenetrable fortress of doggy safety and calm. Who would have thunk it? Kinta was Paul's dog before I met Paul. I am the evil bitch that diverted some of her daddy's attention from her. As such, I am never to be completely forgiven or totally trusted. Previously, her interest in me did not extend much beyond my provision of food, water and transport. I was nothing more than a ball throwing arm. Recently this relationship has changed. I don't know what I did ... I don't recall any poignant Dr Phil moments between us. Maybe she realised that I wasn't going anywhere. Or maybe she is poisoning my water and those smiles are actually the sick psychotic grins of a deranged and vengeful bitch. Or maybe Paul has told her he's taking me on a "drive down the back paddock" where I will "run away". Or, it could be the fact that I pulled her out of a mangrove about a month ago, where she was stuck up to her shoulders in estuary mud. Too late Kinta. The damage has been done. I don't forget.
Leo aka Reg
Leo aka Reg
Leo is a five year old male (desexed) red Kelpie. We assume he was born in Bundaberg because this is where we busted him out of the RSPCA shelter. His mother could have been a crack addict for all we know. That would actually explain alot. We decided that December 25 would be Leo's birthday so we would always remember it. We always forget. Leo was an extremely bad puppy whose very existence was debated numerous times. However, during an 18 month stint at Paul Stewart's Academy for 100% Bad Arse Puppies, Leo changed his attitude and turned his life around. So successful was Leo's transformation that his story and image is used on all marketing material for Paul Stewart's Academy for 100% Bad Arse Puppies (www.thatdogisfucked.com.au)*. If Leo was human, he would be diagnosed with ADHD and dosed up to his furry forehead on Ritalin. Today, Leo is a reasonably well-adjusted dog who loves peeing on everything (including his mother), eating macadamia nuts straight from the tree, attempting to fornicate with Kinta at every given opportunity and cutting tight circles around the backyard. For all his outward stupidity and disappointment to the entire kelpie community, Leo is an extremely smart dog. His report card always says "lacks focus". He has even saved Kinta's life on one occasion (sort of). Leo is my first dog.
The Narrator
The Narrator
That's me. I am a thirty year old married female, born in Goondiwindi but currently living in Bundaberg. Note I say "currently" and not "permanently". I am a freelance writer and part-time office worker with an interest in all the usual stuff (travel, books, movies, food, exercise, beer, wine, good times). I am not ashamed to admit that Leo is my best friend. I have had dreams in which Leo is stabbed, poisoned, hit by cars, bitten by snakes and dognapped. I wake up from these dreams in tears. Such is the love I feel for this breathing, panting, penis licking, bum dragging ball of fur. Paul fears the day when Leo really does "leave the building". I may have to be put down as well. Leo has two characteristics that most people don't. He always agrees with me and he is always happy to see me. Sometimes, that's all I need.
I officially dub this blog "The Amazing Adventures of Kinta and Leo" or "This is why I have a dog".
Enjoy!
* The Paul Stewart Academy for 100% Bad Arse Puppies is a work of fiction and bares no resemblance to any institution either solvent or insolvent. The domain www.thatdogisfucked.com.au is currently unhosted. Kids, Aunty Kris says: "swearing is not cool".
I officially dub this blog "The Amazing Adventures of Kinta and Leo" or "This is why I have a dog".
Enjoy!
* The Paul Stewart Academy for 100% Bad Arse Puppies is a work of fiction and bares no resemblance to any institution either solvent or insolvent. The domain www.thatdogisfucked.com.au is currently unhosted. Kids, Aunty Kris says: "swearing is not cool".
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