The Man, or The Dog?

I am learning so much dog stuff. I might be turning into a nerd, just so you are forwarded by this lengthy dog post. Either bear with me with my obsession (I am sure like all else I get my teeth into, like a dog, I will scent something else soon enough to rave about) or just skip on along to another blog, I surely won't be offended. I am going to talk about all of this anyway though because it might be good to look back on later (and laugh, if anything, maybe over my enthusiasm). It's all new to me and so it' good that these little canine animals, like kids, live in the moment and thus forgive most readily.

She is now 12 weeks old. She will sit and lie down both with verbal cues or without using just hand signals (and I feel wowed by that latter because I have never seen it happen other than on some TV dog show), but here I am in real life with a little puppy who will do it. I am realising a lot about the way a dog thinks and acts, it's instincts and emotions - how they are tied together to result in behaviour.

I have read um, A LOT. Books which talk about dog behaviour from the perspective of dominance: that domesticated dogs are really just domesticated wolves and we should always strive to keep them 'in line' and as a lower ranking pack member (see Cesar Millan and Jan Fennell). And also other perspectives of doggie behaviour which claim that domesticated dogs are *not* wolves and don't respond any longer as such - that they have evolved into a whole other species (see Bruce Vogal and Barry Eaton). They claim that to put Cannus Domesticus in the wild means it would likely die rather than survive by hunting - so lost is the ability (despite displaying playful prey behaviour). We only need look at the skulls of a 90lb wolf versus a 90lb dog to see the vast differences; The wolf's head/brain being nearly twice the size of a dog, necessary as it must constantly be ready to hunt for it's very survival (compared to the average household pooch, with it's regular meals, snacks and treats on hand all day long). The wolf's hearing, vision and sense of smell is vastly superior to a dog and it's capabilities to coordinate a hunt and take down prey is incomparable on a survival level to the the prey-play behaviours displayed (but not fully acted out) by a domestic dog, as seen by abandoned or 'wild' ones which hang about on the edge of human settlements and scavenge rather than hunt. Dogs have been selectively bred for their sociable and friendly attitude towards humans and often couldn't care less about being the Alpha dog. To constantly ignore and treat them as if they are, is pointless and alienating and means you miss out on creating a nice bond.



I assumed (wrongly) from my reading before getting our pup that I would be dealing with a dog who's main aim and constant sense of self would derive from it striving to be the Alpha. But if you think about it there must be a heck of a lot of pack members who are happy to not be the Alpha. After all, most are not. Some dogs couldn't care less. Ours doesn't appear to. In fact she walks sideways up to The Man and then flops down on her back belly up, the most submissive posture of all, and to me I only have to ignore her for a millisecond before she sits down beside or behind me waiting for me to acknowledge her. We didn't do some big campaign to act all Alpha on her so it's pretty sweet behaviour. Naturally I think dogs can be 'in their place' simply through humans greeting each other first then the dog, which is what happens here anyway. And despite the initial excitement over having a dog (a real dog! in the house!) the kids now ignore it much of the time, sidestep it, turn their backs when she initiates play and they are busy etc - so she gets that whole, you'll have to wait thing anyway. Yet she is clearly a canine and like foxes and wolves she likes a 'den' to sleep in, her prey instinct means she runs alongside us, us with our primate arms flapping, sleeves drooping, skirts swishing and nips and tugs at us, excited - it's only normal canine behaviour and yet can be scary for a tiny child.



I understand that a very healthy puppy will want to nibble at toes and play bite constantly - this is all good because feedback can let a puppy know what's acceptable and not (worse would be a pup that never play bit and then lunged for real one day without ever learning bite inhibition through play), just as would happen through puppies all playing together. I try not to scold or try to deter her bite, just direct the biting to toys and to noisily yelp and turn away when she does it too hard on one of us (um, easy and instinctive). So I am the one who plays lots of fetch, drop and tug games. Mostly because she listens to me better than she does with the kids (who's voices are perpetually in exciting high pitch mode) and also *gasp* it turns out in one area of life at least, I have more patience than they do (stagger back in shock, I know I did).



I have to remind myself constantly that she is NOT a primate though, that she is a canine (despite the realistic sounding human cries and HUGE liquid brown adoring save-me eyes). My primate instinct is to stroke her head, to hug her squishy silky fur body, to pick her up, to be verbal and tell her off, or soothe and blather on to her constantly. But being canine I am reading, this is not what dogs best respond to. It's cool that we can learn to understand canine behaviour in order to fully utilise their instincts and drive to fulfill our wishes to coexist peacefully as owners. It's a win-win thing then. So along with the dog I am learning self control and better dog-manners.



The kids and I have been surprised to learn some stuff: like that dogs really don't like being patted on the head - watch one next time someone does it. They sort of cringe. In fact tap a boisterous dog twice on the head and say 'enough' and likely they will walk away glad to be away from the confrontational and rude human behaviour. We are learning to stroke her chest and sides instead. Dogs don't like an arm over them, or a hug (this one I try hard as a I might to convince one small girl of, but she's not yet convinced I concede). Canine behaviour only allows a paw over a back when they agree to being lower ranking - which is fine for most household dogs, but usually still feels antagonistic, confrontational and simply distasteful esp, if from a child (kinda' like walking up to a stranger and patting them on the head in greeting or wrestling them to the ground triumphantly, some generous gentle folk may shrug you off but some might bite ya, so to speak).

We have learnt then when our pup is running away from us, the worst thing we can do is follow her calling and trying to catch up. The BEST thing is to catch her attention by clapping smartly a couple of times, calling her name and walking *away* from her in the other direction. Pretty hard to do the first few times, esp when off leash in uncharted territory. Your own primate instincts are to just run towards them, screech and scoop them up. But it's good to stop and be self controlled. Dogs want to follow you we have found out. Or go the same way. So if you walk towards them they will carry on, assuming themselves to be going in the right direction - the way you are heading.



So it turns into a nice fun chase/catch-me game for them but frustration anxiety and maybe even anger for you. We clap, call and then walk away in the other direction like we are heading some place *really* exciting, we are upbeat and happy sounding, and they come running. It's so great to see when it happens. It takes trust, and then when it happens you get this huge surge of confidence in yourself and dog, they come running to you, tail wagging, and you get to give them praise and treats and genuinely are happy (if I had a tail mine would wag as much as hers sometimes).



I have plenty of opportunities to use this. Trust me, mainly because I don't use the leash much and also because we have chickens. Oh yeah. It's prey instinct in action with the chickens. No wonder they have started going mad and pecking their own eggs to death (well I have to blame something, the dog will do, I am guessing it won't be the first time being unable to speak will render it at blame for some household misdemeanor no one else wants to claim). 8 or 9 times out of 10 the dog comes when I call, when I act like I just described; like I really want to see her, that I am so excited and as bouncy-happy to be here on earth and alive as she is (dogs are like Buddhas in that way). So she comes and is rewarded every time with a treat (my pockets all stink of dried fish heads, yum).

Often something like this situation happens: she's chasing a chicken and there's no point in my calling her if she's a good 20/30 metres away in hot pursuit, its too far: I don't want to call her name in vain if she won't come because she'd be learning maybe to ignore my voice and it would be failure for us both. So instead I get closer to the action and then clap and call and start to move in the other direction. Hopefully I got her attention for a second with the clap. Will she follow? Mostly she does and I can praise/reward, and it's all happy and good. But then there's the time when that chicken is so frickin exciting and that hen is running like a velociraptor on speed and it's just so much FUN! What's a puppy to do? So she follows the chicken instead of my voice and so I again go a bit closer and do the whole clap move away thing again. Eventually she comes, tail wagging at full speed towards me because she knows by now (from learning her name) that when I call her and she comes, she gets a tasty treat. You have to become a pretty good actor in these situations cos' really you by now want to throttle them.



What then happens next in this scenario? Do you explode your annoyance and take her by the collar the second she gets near you and drag her back to the safe zone, saying all the while that's it! No more are you off leash in this bit of the garden...! Baaad dog! You could. But next time (oh yes, there will be one) will she come so willingly? Will she come knowing you might jerk her around and be all Jekyll and Hyde? Probably not, maybe you will end up training her *not* to come when you call if she expects harshness at her tardiness. So you grit your teeth and then magically genuinely actually do smile at your exuberant pretty little pup give her the treat anyway (after all she *did* come to you) and lavish her with Good Dog! all the while continuing to walk away enticingly with more tasty treats and fun. I think ultimately you want your dog to view you as a great source of pleasure and fun and good food. If coming to you is a good thing then she will, simple as that.

I like this theory, it's simple, maybe not always easy but simple to hold in your mind. So I am taking from both behavioral theories and the vast area of grey bits in between to see what best works for my doggie, right now. I am loving Patricia MCconnell 's books. She does exactly this. And it seems right to understand the wolf hereditary and ancestral behavioural mechanisms along with the way domestic dogs have changed due to our selective breeding. And who like me without TV knew how many dog shows there could be to watch? Wowee. iplayer and I are good friends now.



Last week I taught Ginny to fetch and drop. It took her about two quick sessions to get it. I realised that not every dog automatically chased and retrieves things. Even, um, well bred retrievers. I am sure some do, but I thought that if this puppy had no other dog to watch and learn from I would have to show her. Since at first I would throw something and she'd look at me then flop over on the floor to scratch her butt. So I threw things, any old thing, the oddest things work best actually, and excitedly ran after them (I really need to act this stupid with my kids more often too, it's actually pretty funny).

So like a mix of primate and dog I chase it too like it's the best thing ever while calling to her. What puppy can resist it's human running and calling to it? Hell, not many I'll wager. I'm pretty hyped myself with all of this fun. Goodbye exercise tv. com, who needs ya?

So after a bit I would hang back and let her get the object. Then when it was in her mouth I'd encourage her (crouched down, arms wide calling her name, maybe a clap too, why not indeed, since I am on the floor? I'd suppose I could throw in a bark or two but then someone might hear me and I'd be totally embarrassed :: BUT side note, kids totally love having a dog because it makes their parent turn sort of childish all over again, like you couldn't tell from this I am sure).



I shout Come on! Here! And she did. Sometimes dropping the toy and coming back solo. When she did that I would meanly hold back the treat cunningly placed in my closed fist (but smellable I am sure). After a bit she realised if she brought me back the toy she would be rewarded with lavish praise and a treat! Wow! So that went hand in hand with her dropping the toy. Cos' she couldn't eat the treat otherwise. I added names to what she was doing. Fetch! As she ran for the toy and Drop! when she retrieved and returned to me, automatically dropping the toy. Treat and praise. Now she drops without me having to say anything which is great, but I tend to say it anyway because it's proving handy for the times she has something her mouth I'd rather she didn't like Felix just-out-of-the-box-new-shoe or my knitting, or maybe The Man's wool tartan tie (oh go on then, he isn't looking, chew it up, quick!).

Another interesting thing I have read and tried out is that dogs like (or find easier to learn) visual signs more than the verbal cue for something. So when I taught her to lie down I used a sweeping motion of my hand downwards at the same time. Now I only need do the action and she lies down. I used this little video here to help me for ideas, since my dog had not read the dog books and wouldn't lie down like she was 'supposed' to.

I think after the puppy stage I'd best start phasing out the treats every time she does what I ask, otherwise she's gonna end up the fattest sausage dog in town. Dogs read body language so well it seems. Lean back and she comes forward towards me, lean towards her and she stops. Yeah. If only my kids were more canine. I'd have a much more peaceful life. Can you imagine? I have been trying it with my training this week, watch me! and quiet! are my things. I keep doing the quiet hand sign to Esmé or like last night when I told her with the hand sign to lie down when she was bouncing on the bed - she screamed at me to Shut up! Please! See? Dogs are so much nicer, they just don't do that. Plus you are far more likely to be killed by another human than a dog. It's a well known statistical fact ( I imagine). My daughter shows a killer wolf-like instinct when she's pissed so that I feel like a tiny squirrel.



There are some things I thought about having a dog that now make me laugh. In reality. I actually thought (blush) that the dog would just lie peacefully in it's bed until I called it. Like it would be a dog when I wanted it to be and a statue when I had other things to do, say cook a meal or do some kid stuff or run errands or do housework. Well I was kinda wrong 'bout that. If you can imagine such a thing possible. I also didn't imagine it would cry every night for three straight weeks, escalating into howls and barks if we tried to ignore it. Being in a pen in the hall means this wakes up every bitty creature in a mile radius from it's bed. We tried everything from ignoring it to lying on a makeshift bed in the hallway (whilst ignoring it but being there still). The latter caused my dh and I to almost separate due to sleeplessness. The closest we have ever come to falling out in a major way. Kid you not. Funny now, but not then. Ginny the dog now has a basket next to my bed. Sometimes I wake up and stroke her soft sleepy head and look over at the other humans in my bedroom asleep. Because it feel miraculous that we are all in fact asleep at once. First time in a month. Oh the open crate/den in the hall is there and the pup is sleeping there right now in fact, it seeks it out in the hustle of the day as a retreat, but night times mean upstairs for us all. For sanity sake. And I couldn't give a shit, really. Like many things; kids, men, parenthood. Who knows really until you are there in the middle of it all, the things you will choose to do for every one's sake? Theory, practice, opinion or whatever. Dog ownership is different than with other pets, they throw some unexpected blows. But they also bring this sweet loyal love which I have not experienced before and wouldn't want to give up. I had a mad laughing session with a friend a couple of weeks back, at the height of the mad tiredness (not even newborns had me this tired because they slept in my arms in my bed, see), my friend has dogs so she *knows*. And she said so... which would you pick if it came to it The man or The Dog? I returned her question with the same identical one right back, and we both just burst out laughing. And laughing. Sort of hysterically. Because, well I was tired, but also because dogs are simpler, by far than human relationships. And you can actually follow a book, should you wanna. Maybe they don't smell as nice, but it's not far off. Still.... just a joke :)

:: My favourite dog books so far, The Other End of the Leash, great observations interesting research. Practically, my favourite puppy book is this one by Gwen Bailey. I bought another first but all it did was make me anxious. It was by Ian Dunbar and was constant in it's dire warning predictions of doom, such as warning to never ever let your dog mess on the floor (like whoops, too late) because your dog is doomed forever otherwise. And it was full of these time schedules for training, like if your dog didn't roll over by 12 weeks it would be totally unmanagable thereafter and forever more. I hardly dare open it. And my dh did and told me it was rubbish because where did it say anything about puppies that cried? Only in the one sentence that said you should not let your pup whine... ? Really? Like how? So yeah, it was a relief to find Gewn's book. So much more positive and full of photos, which I always like.

The beach is Llantwit Major.



Totally unrelated and creating instant guilt for me, right now Felix just came up and asked me Claire! What's black and white and covered in red spots? Without a second pause or moment of reflection (always a big mistake with kids) I respond: A machine gunned zebra? Very long uncomprehending look from him. No. It's actually a penguin with sunburn! Get it?! I am alll, Ohhhh riiiiiight. Yeah! Yours is so much better. Duh. Like I'd know. Stoopid brain. What was it thinking?? Really now! I wish I could sew my mouth shut some days and just shrug. Nod. Smile. Hum. Use doggie arm signals. It's all they need. Mostly. Probably I am using most of my brain on the dog and the kids get the leftovers. As for The Man? Forget it. Nodding is all he's gonna get by the time he gets in. As in, you want some dinner? Nod, nod, me too, I'll sympathise. Too bad the dog ate all of the chicken legs. And broccoli..... I'll nod towards the freezer and the emergency fish fingers. Yes, that really is all, but at least you get to sleep in bed rather than on the stone hall floor. Smile, nod. Together.

what i like

:: I like that she plays in a weird random fashion



:: I like that she doesn't give a shit, about so many things



:: I like her fearlessness



:: I like the way that despite me saying hell no! she is always thieving my camera and creeping up on me at 6am to take a photo or two (see above about not giving a shit, esp concerning what her mama says).





:: I like that she is a good dog trainer, a really good one (she is telling the dog to stay and walking off and is being obeyed).





:: I like that her shoes are always on the wrong feet (see above).

:: I like that her favourite book is a chicken care manual and that her favourite chicken in there is the most ugly one of all.





:: I like that her two best dolls are both called Boohbah and that her teddy is called Mainly, because he's 'mainly' good (took me some figuring out that one).



:: I like that between them they turned out emergency sandbags into a mini sand pit. Who cares anyway? Let the river roll right in our door (it's what she'd say).



:: I like that I am trying to be more like her, but maybe minus the aggression (see this mega tantrum over the disgustingly dirty bear that the pup stole right out of her dirty pink buggy?). Yeah, she threw that little toy right over into the stream and made that dog 'drop' her bear. I like that too.



:: I like that she demanded ice lollies for breakfast (homemade ones with fresh mango juice, don't fret) and lunch.

:: I like that she tells me I am her best friend.

sometimes god is a lump of playdough, on the floor

I try to breathe
through my life
sometimes I am lost,
don't try to find me
in these moments of freedom
escape is impossible/inevitable
someone explained something and I felt sad
and a girl with dyed red fingertips waves at me,
play dough goop on the floor
spin me a web so I may catch the mundane of life and trap it
hold it to the sun and glory in it's ordinariness
stay still my tiny life, and move me quickly away
simultaneously, so I always straddle the fence
it makes for a better view in any case
a friend dies and another wakes, to say hello
the first talks to me in sleep and offers greetings
she is sad and happy both
I figure on both sides of the abyss it's not so different
maybe I should pray to my play dough-floor
it's as good a god as any
I reckon

fresh peas

Yet another puppyish post. What can I say, I am practically canine now.

I am finding small people and puppies are so similar I forget which I am dealing with, I say 'good girl' far too much and often don't know to whom I am speaking. Fortunately neither listen nor care so it's all tosh anyway.

Examples of similarities? Biscuits I find can be popped in either mouth with satisfyingly quiet results (few whoops! moments, but again neither dog nor child distinguished lamb or custard flavours, which makes me think - why bother with expensive organic cookies if kibble does the trick on both counts?). Housetraining. Yeah. Accidents all round. No point asking ownership of puddles. Soft toys are happily consumed and coddled equally. The collar and leader has joint ownership and I really hope no one drops by when the biped is taking a turn, it looks, sort of weird.... and creepy, especially when she barks. I do however admire the good imitation and I can always pretend it's from the quadruped. Both cry in the night. Ignore at own peril. Accidentally threw beef shin bone at small girl. And set omelette down in front of pup. Only one complained.



Other household animal news marks the end to Squeak the Guinea Pig. Here are two (mourning, I know, they are good actors) small people smiling as I photograph another dead guinea pig. Why would I get my camera out you may wonder, simply; I was instructed to and had no reasons on hand to try and deter the request. I had someone once comment here (to my dismay and hilarious outrage) they would report me to animal welfare if only they knew where I lived. Bizarre since my chickens roam nearly an acre and the guineas have a run the size of my old house's garden, the dog is fed butcher shop meat and the cat sleeps soundly on my feet at night..... They probably wouldn't have liked to see us try to fit the stiff creature into a too small grave though (note to self for future grave diggings - take out the volume of soil that you estimate the animal would also share - don't be lazy) Otherwise you may end up stamping on the flipped over piece of turf to approximate a smooth lawn. Prior to this, Felix put the guinea in a shoe box (so fat! He fitted a whole size 5 box) and kept popping out to stroke it, despite me screeching at him to stop! Because it's dead! But why quibble over finer points of animal petting, when it's so enjoyed? At least the guinea pig couldn't complain (one small consolation). I asked Esmé to take some veggie scraps out to the guinea pig (meaning the other live one) and then found them stuffed in with the dead one. They went in for the whole taking-things-to-the-after-life bit big time, with Felix including a fabulous drawing (which I wish I had grave pilfered) of Squeak the guinea pig as a Storm Trooper (because in his next life, apparently, he may choose to be one).



The puppy found this, much to girls delight. It was bought by me and never once used by anyone (maybe self in anguish along some motorway). Alas, car journeys were (are) always pretty torturous. Ginny enjoys a nice chew on it and the girl likes popping it back into her mouth - really hoping this is one thing they don't share (I just don't look, it's safer for my sanity).



But there were also peas. Fresh peas.



Fresh peas equal Good Times.

raspberry knitting

I can't remember having had such a bad morning as this one. I am sure I have, but am also glad these are not the norm. I mean what if they were? Well, I'd probably do a runner. I ended up in that state of being so hyped up, so furious with everything and everything that I went totally calm. I went to the point that is the ultimate of the worst you can be - and then? Then I sighed and everything melted away. And it wasn't really so bad. In the end.



The Man handed over the puppy to me at 6am as he was leaving the house. I am learning to deal with earliness, but I have learnt the hard way that at all costs I must not wake Esmé before 8am. No one must. She must have her sleep, because she is, actually, worse than me without it. Which is pretty hard to top I'll admit. The dog (who is not *allowed* upstairs) bound into the bedroom with The Man at his heels and woke both The Beauty and I (who really isn't all that beautiful in rage, I do pity her future husband, should she ever have one). I rubbed my eyes a bit too frantically in in effort to waken myself fully and ended up with bloodshot eyeballs and puffiness, so much so that five minutes later, outside in the drizzle with pup I had a proper shock when I saw my shoddy reflection in the window of my car. Throw the ball many times and then back to house where Isaac is now also up and I shout at him to go back to bed! Right now! Why would he choose to be up when he could be in bed? is he crazy? He looks at me like I am crazy (because possibly I am) but he trundles back up stairs, imaginary daggers shooting off at me and I shout pretty loudly that he shouldn't wake his brother too! No! I don't want everyone up! At 6am! Girl crying in kitchen because dog has bitten her finger. Put a cardigan on her, for some reason, maybe this will help her finger? Slippers too? Are these items helping? She sobs louder hair sticking all over her face, glued in place with snot and tears. Cat runs through window with a vole it sets free. Dog mad-happy to see cat starts chasing the cat, who is now occupied in fun with vole/mole/mouse creature. Might be funny cartoon like if dog did not get caught up in cable which pulls ceramic lamp shattering to ground. Scream at Isaac to get downstairs to help me, throw screaming girl over my shoulder and run upstairs dumping her back in bed because her screaming is *really* jarring on me, causing me to convulse slightly with gritted teeth. Isaac useless with sweeping brush and vole thing, Felix (now awake and grumpy - now he is a boy after my own heart who loves a lie in) can't catch cat. I grab dog by collar (first time for everything) and take her to puppy pen. She whimpers and then lies down. I sweep the vole out of the door and throw cat out after it (take your own chances mole), I slam the door and hear Esmé now screaming because the bedroom door has shut on her, this is also my fault as being Victorian in attitude I always seem to have every window in the house open and we are generally all impervious to cold therefore, the results of my breeziness is that doors tend to slam at odd moments if I don't position door jams and such. Isaac chooses this choice moment to remind me he has a school trip today and needs and extra set of clothes and packed lunch and wellies and had I remembered? And he has no clean boxer shorts in his draw where are they all? I wonder how two days of rain can set me back three weeks in the laundry department? How is this possible? It doesn't seem mathematically correct, yet is pysically true. I wonder if The Man with his maths brain might be able to work out how I am failing in this area with some fancy equation to solve this perpetual crisis of clean clothing. I trip and stub toe on the tiny chair the girl is always dragging about and knock a cupboard door open at the same time. Out falls a box of weetabix, an open box, left at jaunty angle. I try to make a grab for it and as I swoop down the cupboard door rebounds and knocks me on the brow. I also missed the box. I rant, 'why the f*uck can't people put their shit away properly?' To no one in particular, just out loud so that everyone can hear my misery - a true blue low point (I honestly *swore* never to swear in front of my children, but it really didn't last long goddammit...). For myself, Miss Gluten Free, I add sweeping up crumbles of wheat flakes to the sweeping list and hope that some animal comes along and licks the floor clean first. I tell Isaac to wear Felix's underwear and that no I had not forgotten his trip (big lie). Rush upstairs to girl who I feel furious with for some reason, possibly the pitch of her screams? My sore toe and head caused by her chair? Rescue her from prison-bedroom and take her back downstairs to find a plaster for her finger. Can only find a really old looking green one in the stupid unfitting shape of a lizard (don't buy cheap band-aids from Lidl would be my offering in to the vast pit of shopping knowledge). I sweep. And sweep, and sweep.



I breathe out. Go and stand next to the comfort of the Aga where three little children stand, at 7am, looking tired. The puppy is snoring softly, the mess is gone. We all smile at each other and I say 'good morning'. They play along with my fallacy, telling each other good morning and smiling, laughing a bit. I make breakfast and packed lunches and assemble clothes and remind and put away and the day takes a better shape. I am easy, free now. Because what more can this house throw at me in one hour? Come on! I can cope! So it doesn't matter. I do some sort of maths with Felix who has his book out, wave bye to Isaac, read Felix his Beast Quest book and finally finally sit alone for five minutes and attempt to drink my cold tea (I don't know how I could ever actually drink hot tea, it would be a novel and new experience).



There needs to be balance to this post, in life too, I know it. And there have also been moments of sweetness these last couple of days. Jesus didn't always weep. I am sure (sometimes he just looked at women like me and shook his head, maybe inventing the you-made-your-own-bed line as he did, why not?):



Sleeping puppy by my feet and raspberry knitting in my hand. Breathing in the scents of my garden in the heat after rain. Laughing out loud reading my book. Biting into a juicy sweet, salty lamb chop. Arranging Sweet William in a jug on the table. A silent walk all alone in the evening. Finding eggs again in the nesting box, lemony sorrel delighting me daily, the sun turning my skin a shade less white, a girl who pretends to be a dog (try not to notice that the hug resembles a headlock) and who wants to sleep with the dog..... and of course, the dog. She too is sweet, regardless, well she'd have to be, really. Raspberry knitting, finally the raspbery knitting. Alwasy knitting is a sanity saver. Praise the humble sheep.

animal magic - girl and pup

She's good. Fearless and assumes authority over the puppy. Which it of course responds to instantly. I think they will be good friends (with the girl of course as General and Leader, of course, as she is at all other times.....) Next up, jumping through a hoop... I imagine.

We have visitors and I tell them 'ignore the puppy', which is really a hard thing to do, I know, it goes against your instinct to ohh and goo-gah over a cute soft baby mammal. And then I get them to make her sit and lie down for them. *Then*, finally they can fuss and play with her. It sounds militant, but then, I really want a well trained dog. And I really want a dog who is submissive towards humans. I have little kids, it's the only way, I think. I get the boys to do this whole sit, lie thing every time they have been away and come home, and whenever they remember. The hardest bit is not to use the AP human psychology I know so well on this dog. But then I remind myself, yes she is though in fact a dog, not a human baby.

Please ignore my cheesy voice over; intended for Esmé....but she hardly needs the praise.

It's kinda' dark, but then so is my hallway at 6am.

Girl and Dog


But this one, taken just now, is my favourite. The first thing Esmé is saying (just so you have an idea of what it is that is distracting the pup) is 'Urghh! Ginny's licking at chicken poo!' Culinary highlights no doubt, of a dog's dining experience.

Chicken Poop

average, today

do we have an average day?

no. but today was like this:

Awake at 6am, my new early. The Man spent the night dog comforting, work readying time so I take pup outside nursing cup of chamomile tea like it may help revive. Sit, stunned, gritty eyed at the HUGE noise lots of tiny birds can make. Is every bird in the world in my garden this dawn? Are my ears brand new, replaced during the night by ones of a bat? I stare blearily at tiny tree on the other side of the stream (rowan maybe?) it has sprung up newly this year and makes me feel peaceful: it is just itself, not trying to be anything else, alive and alive and alive, right there, not going anywhere, swayed by wind. Blue sky, sunny day promised. I love this time of day, *anything* might happen today, it's all so fresh and unsullied, no one pissed you off yet (hopefully in this short time you didn't manage to either) and there's the possibility, expectation..... not the might-I-win-the-lottery- sort of possibility (guess I might have to actually play to be in with a chance of winning) just a quiet hopefulness.

Time to pick up dog poop (I just wrote 'god' poop). Tiny girl in doorway with bed hair and tiny pj's, looking confused (I know that feeling at 6am, it's just a big WHY?). Scoop her up and put on her jumper. We wait for the pup to finish mooching and then I make her breakfast. Boys appear in drips and they eat too. Goodbyes to Daddy-O (Grumpy sleepless Man today, poor thing). Send boys outside with dog while I dress (and gather laundry and pull back duvets in an approximation of bed making/airing).

One boy feeds chickens, another finds a whole catch of eggs in a bush (ah! so that's why she *hasn't* been laying). We take it in turns getting Ginny to sit and lie down for us in between reading books, playing on bikes and hanging out washing (me). I catch pup *after* she had a fun fun fun time chasing the chickens (they didn't say so but doubt they found similar enjoyment in experience). Block off that pathway with outdoor toys. Wash dishes, load washing machine, clean downstairs bathroom.... make self an omelette. Tell boys I will play monopoly with them and then we all go outside and forget the all about it. Boys play on computer, online games. Girl outside singing with Ginny chasing her bike wheel. I watch some cyclists whoosh by in neon.

It's 10am. How can it only be 10am? It feels like 3pm. How to get through such long days? I like waking gracefully at 9 and then reading quietly to waken myself, stretching out, thinking a bit, wondering, this and that. Not whamming down and out through the door pre 6am. How do people with outside jobs do this? I am looking at my dh differently. Jesus. You do this? And also this: puppy! Stop whining for me and sleep!

Scrambled together bagels and turkey for hungry children and apricots and walnuts for self. Make a smoothie. Marvel at the lovely lovey sun. Panting heat makes dog lazy and sleepy outdoors and is marvelous for me who can close own eyes and enjoy sun, murmuring one syllable and unidentifiable comments in the positive to enthusiastic son rambling on about the virtue of various Legos. I fake this well as he seems satisfied. Realise he is outside with me in the first place awaiting the ever late/lazy postman for latest Lego instalment we ordered together on Sunday to boost his spirits after brief illness.

Leave him hopping from one foot to another in anticipation and make couple of phone calls. One secures quick immediate trip to vet. Bundle everyone into car, dog on boy's knee all hugged in. Make it to vet by 11am. Discuss vaccinations, dog sags sleepily and heavily in arms, peaceful. Decide not to bother right now as puppy still coasting on mother's antibodies. Feel relieved. Don't like vaccinations, needles or antiseptic rooms. Muse on this as make flying pit stop to organic butcher. He gives me huge bag of chicken bones (carcasses and wings and other bits) all for free. Free dog food! Check out Work Wonders, Raw Meaty Bones, great book on feeding dogs raw - sweet breathe, no body odor, tiny poops that crumble away and healthier dogs. Can't resist the tiny promotion here.

TMI on dog feeding. Really. But interesting all the same. Postman still not arrived, then does but no Lego. Big sigh and sad boy. Brave. Can he live? He thinks he might. Fortifies self with computer game to soothe and restore disappointed equilibrium. Feel similarly tired, stop self from loitering near the chocolate cupboard and play snap instead with Girl. Go back and eat a piece.

Lunch? Not dinner, yet? Surely it must be really late.... Rustle up snacks and then clear away, popping in and out to supervise puppy in stream (puppy LOVING stream). Dog falls into deep sleep by Aga so sneak off to hanging out laundry, sweep trampoline of pine needles, and take girl to veggie garden. Much neglected this past week and pull out masses of gone to seed rocket and radishes for guinea pigs. Haul over bucket of water (check on baby-dog, still asleep, yippeee), weed a bit then go and find cowboy style sun hat.

Friend arrives with sons and all children dash off doing goodness-knows-what and what-ever-it-is-is-fine. St and drink tea and chat and laugh in the sun, puppy now asleep under my feet in shade of table. Eat blueberries with Girly. Friend takes all boys (including own) to Festival grounds for another show (we are doing the whole week of everything here, saw Michael Morpurgo yesterday reading aloud War Horse); children's comedy writer today. Put Pingu on for tired girl and tuck her in on sofa with stripey blanket. She comes through after five seconds asking for food. I think sometimes the background music of my life is kids telling me they are hungry. Or shouting 'finished! from the bathroom. I can live with it, I am useful see, and obviously much needed. Even if not entirely for my own charms. Ability to wield knives, open high cupboards have ears, hands, breasts and a wallet is pretty much enough.

Stash girl into car seat and put puppy by her feet, both up front. Pat whining puppy (and child) and slot biscuits into mouths (see? same, same). Driving I stroke a velvet soft ear and glance down to see dark warm eyes staring at me in adoration, watching my every move, hungrily maybe (biscuit anticipation?). When did anyone last look at me like this? Puppy love. For sure.

Happy hot boys, ice cream faces. Home again. Start making chicken soup and slide salmon fish fingers into oven for non chicken people (being kind to self by not making battered crumb fish pieces by hand, Nigella style, or not.... (bet she has fish fingers in her freezer). Dog dashing about underfoot in and out of house, looking for things/people to chew. Toss her a bone after making her lie down to wait for a second - practice, practice I see is a lovely all day long event. Send everyone outside with plates (and ketchup). Man home, just as tired, not as grumpy. Feed him. Distinct lack of puppy eyes (I check). Feel like telling him only can see he is half asleep over soup, may not be nicest thing I could say, offer to get up with puppy tonight, then remember it's my turn anyway. He knows I always crave sleep, can do 12 hours happily. Probably we'll share, cos' he's like that. Puppy eyes no, love yes.

Dishes in sink soaking, children in bath soaking (both mean I have done both something and yet, really, nothing, layzee (or tired) style, as per the norm). I am ready for bed, really am. The sky is light. Dog asleep (for now). It's 8pm.

This is probably a pretty average day. Today at least.

and live your life

“What I want to say is that the past is the past,
and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable of choosing what that will be…

So come to the pond, or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,
and put your lips to the world.

And live your life.”

Mary Oliver, Mornings at Blackwater