Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Hope Springs Eternal

I have given myself a shake...I am not going to be the victim of circumstances. And neither is my dog. She is young and healthy and loving and naughty. I didn't train her well...an oversight I can amend with the next owner. I have put up an ad for her on PetFinder and in that ad, I stated that I would pay for her to be trained with new owner.

Stella wanted to go see Sylvie, but the guy who adopted Sylvie (and Bruno) says he will not be free until July. Right now he's busy at work and after that, he's travelling. So poor Stella will not get to see Sylvie, not unless she remains with my father in that time. And I'm not sure how willing he is to take her.

She misbehaved yesterday and I did what I should have done long ago. Tied her up and proceeded to ignore her for the rest of the day, rather than give her any attention at all, either positive or negative. It seems to have worked. Today, she is tiptoeing around me. Of course, today, she has also been taken on three walks.

She looks like she is part Dalmatian, part Jack Russell. A beautiful, really smart dog that I have not treated properly.

I tried to buy a folding ladder during the weekend (I needed to change my hall light) but I ended up crushing my fingers in the folds (didn't lock it properly). My big finger on my right hand still hurts.

This has been a strange weekend - and it's OK, it's over now and I have survived it.

The ATM debacle. Li Ming turning up in the nick of time to save me. Getting locked out of my bank accounts because I forgot my PIN number. Inexplicably. Deciding that I had once and for all, better start moving. (mainly because I have run out of time). Reading two Hanah Hunard books and reassessing my life. Miracles from Heaven.

That sort of thing.


Monday, April 17, 2017

Killing Stella

The sensible people in my life tell me there's no choice; that she's just too much trouble. That she's had her chance and now I'm moving to an apartment and I cannot take her and stress over her bad behaviour may just kill my father who's agreed to babysit her until I can get her sorted...her behaviour, her adoption.

I called Stella in after a long, long conversation on the phone. And I started to cry. I couldn't help it. I had to put Arnold to sleep. There I had no choice. He was old and suffering so much. I had to help put Elliott to sleep. Again, he was at the end, the dregs of his life. I had to put that kitten to sleep. He had sporo and there was no coming back from that. And every death wrenched something from me. I wept as I held them and the vets injected. It hurt so much.

But Stella? That's a whole other level of pain. She's still a pup. Not even two. She has so much life in her. Yes, she's destructive and she has no boundaries. Because I never gave her any boundaries. I never found out the right way to train her.

And now this sweet little dog is going to pay the price of my neglect. And I don't know what to do.

She was adopted and returned.

I don't have the energy to give her all the exercise that she needs. And I've been ill. She stays outside...somehow she doesn't want to come in. She looked at me anxiously as I was weeping and then left. Walked out.

I don't know what to do.

Please tell me what to do.

I wish someone out there could help me. I don't want to kill Stella. I don't want to see her die.

Sunday, April 09, 2017

How Stella Didn't Get Her Groove Back

Well, among other things, Stella is back. I received a text from the woman who adopted her telling me they couldn't keep her as she was too destructive. She asked if they could return her to me. Otherwise, they would have to give her away.

What could I say?

Of course I agreed to take her back.

I went to see an animal communicator who told me that Stella isn't bad. She's just a high energy dog and her two walks a day have done little to make even the slightest dent in her energy. That's why she suddenly tears around the place like a mad dog and when she gets these energy surges, she destroys everything in her path. She doesn't mean to be bad. It's just play.

Also because I didn't train her or set any boundaries, she just acts out. So now, while I'm moving, I have to find a way to train her and set boundaries and use up some of that excess energy.

For the past two days, I took her to the dog park near the house (I should have gone a lot sooner) and let her play with other dogs.  I let her run free for about an hour but apparently this was not enough. This morning I woke up to find that she had destroyed the second gate. She had destroyed the first part about a week ago. Which means she needs to be tied up at all times, even if I exercise her. She told the animal communicator that destroying the gate was one way of getting my attention. It doesn't matter if it's negative attention.

Attention is attention.

I should have listened.

Ebony, Sheba and Pablo are in the house. Pablo sticks close to me but I don't know where the other two are. Ebony is in a mood. He seems to always be in mood these days. Sheba comes and rubs himself against me, endures my strokes and then pulls away to go elsewhere. Pablo lets me stroke him occasionally.

Because we couldn't go to the dog park, I took Stella for a run today. We ran and ran and ran - did the usual circuit three times. I think by the third circuit she was actually tired. But am not sure. Because I wasn't. And I think she has more energy than me.

Work is busy. Over the weekend, when it rained heavily, I fell into a drugged sleep from which I could barely stir. I think I'm tired.

In fact, I know I'm tired.

When I'm tired, I switch off the phone or ignore it. I sleep and sleep and rise to the surface only to read some more of my book.

At the moment, it's Alice Bliss by Laura Harrington, a book I picked up at least five years ago when I was on another desk, a desk which came with books to review - although this was a book of fiction and not suitable for review on that desk. I am now towards the end - it is a heartbreaking book and so beautifully written. Can't believe it took me so long to get around to it.

I am thirsty. Think I'll get a drink of water.

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Killer Cat on the Loose

I am actually feeling terrified. My loan has just disbursed. I cannot hide out here much longer. This means that I have to start moving to the new place.

Stella has already been given up for adoption. I think she is happy. In the one video and update that I got from her new mistress, she seemed happy. I have to ask for another update.

There is a killer cat in the neighbourhood. One of my neighbours told me that it single-handedly killed at least five of his cats. He didn't believe it. The cat in question looks so sweet that if you didn't see him attack (he goes straight for the jugular) you wouldn't believe it.

I didn't see him attack. I just heard about it from the neighbour who has lost his cats. He saw the cat attack one of his own in front of him....it all seems a little bizarre. The attacks started after another neighbour found kittens in one of her rooms, and proceeded to go amok. She put the tiny kittens in a plastic bag, swinging the bag all over the place (the kittens were terrified and screaming so loudly) and threatened to throw them near the river or some place far far away so their mother would not be able to find them.

I took the kittens from her and they kept me up with their crying for the next three nights (I fed them and ran a wet cloth over their nethers to encourage them to poop and pee and cuddled them but it was not enough; they wanted their mama). On the third night, their mother (who must have heard them because they all have good lungs) came to the back door to retrieve them. Glory be!

But on the night of my neighbour going amok, the killing sprees began. The guy opposite her lost two of his adult cats. He found the body of one but not the other. He thought it was the amok woman who had done it.

Then he lost his favourite white kitten. And then his favourite female grey - also barely out of kitten hood. He saw the demonic cat attack his grey. He watched it and realised...this is the culprit. Not that woman he had harboured so much animosity against. So he came over to my window to let me know.

These are strange times indeed.

Anyway, I have become even more paranoid about my cats. Having said that, Pablo is now outside, Ebony is wandering around the garden and only Sheba is inside, lying down and looking at me, like a  cat model. (the killer cat is a ginger tabby with a collar and a bell).

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Forgiveness and Strange Times

So I listened to the daily reading today (Catholic Online: Deacon Keith Fournier) and it was all about forgiveness. And I thought about the forgiveness I have withheld in my heart to so many and have decided that today, I am going to make an effort to forgive these people. Even though they have hurt me (and continue to), even though most times they were clearly in the wrong (does that sound very forgiving to you?), even though I'm not a forgiver by nature. More of a Guinness Book of Records grudge holder, a title I seem to guard so jealously.

So phew! Forgiveness. How does one go about that? Are there online resources to help me? I remember seeing a CD called Radical Forgiveness which was being sold at Violet Flame way back when. Now Violet Flame has moved and I don't think they sell CDs anymore. Maybe I can find it online. Maybe I can download it over iTunes.

I saw an old lady under a bridge on Jalan Universiti. Her possessions were scattered around her in different plastic bags. She looked like a decent old lady (reminded me a bit of my Mummy) and it was raining and she was clearly, homeless. It sent such a pang through me. I wanted to stop and help her.

But I couldn't. For so many reasons, including the fact that my father was in the car and we were heading to hospital because he had had such a sharp pain in his chest it had debilitated him for some hours. I wanted to go to the specialist centre but it was closed on Sundays. So we waited at the Emergency (the name must be ironic) while they treated Dadda like there was no urgency about it at all.

So I have to make an appointment with him at the UMSC and ask for Prof Imran to attend to him because that's who Vas has recommended.

Last night I went looking for the old lady. The thought of her sleeping under that bridge in the rain just tore into me. But I couldn't find her. I cried all the way home.

These are strange times. But I figure if I can rescue kittens and puppies, why not an old lady who reminds me of my mother?

Thursday, December 08, 2016

Christmas delights, bumpers and naughty kittens

It's close to Christmas and my tree is up and my fruitcakes all made (half of them distributed) I can't remember to whom because only one person gave me any feedback about it and that person asked me if I could make it all year round instead of just at Christmas and I said, hell no, it's so fiddly and troublesome to do...

As for the rest, I haven't heard a word.

There are seven more cakes reposing on my kitchen shelf. One large one is for the office, my desk. The others are for various people. It's so late into December already and guess what? I haven't even posted all the cards I wanted to post. Maybe I won't then. I did post a whole heap already.

But but but...

Ebony and Stella are sleeping under the tree...close to each other. They have developed more of a relationship. Armanoush is lying on the threshold. Stella gives her a wide berth because she tends to hiss angrily when Stella tries to get anywhere close. I spanked her today for bullying Sheba. At least, I thought she was bullying but looks like Sheba was only playing. And funny thing happens when I'm disciplining Armanoush. The other two cats (whom she tortures and bites) show up looking concerned.

I have an overview to write. Some letters to post. An Advent calendar letter to write for the latest present. Two more letters to write to other folk so I can go to the post office and post them off. I have neglected so many people because Christmas (and the our bumper issue) tends to be overwhelming.

I fell sick again. I fell sick on my birthday. Was waking up with a painful throat, spitting out green, infected phlegm in the morning and feeling really, really tired. Well, the celebrations kicked off and by the next morning I was truly ill.

I spent a week at home after that. A sort of present from the universe. I couldn't go into the office because on top of the cough and cold, I had conjunctivitis. Tried going into work on Thursday but got sent home. Conjunctivitis, after all, being highly contagious. I tried to wear a mask and dark glasses but apparently not good enough.

Anyway, I slept for the first three days straight through, waking up to try and read trash (my brain was tired and couldn't handle anything non-trashy or serious) and eating take-out pizza. I watched endless episodes of Petticoat Junction and the Andy Griffith Show, wishing I lived a simple life in a simple country town where people passed the time of day with each other and life is not at breakneck speed.

I am still tired. I am still sick. I felt gnarly yesterday and woke up to my cats jumping all over me in an attempt to wake me up (they were starving). I have decided not to feed them if they haven't finished their food from the previous meal. Times are hard and I will not have spoilt cats wasting their food willy nilly.

Actually, it's one overview and one editor's note to go.

And then there's the January issue that we want to close before Christmas.

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

It's Only My Body You're Breaking

I feel your fist smash into my face and it doesn't hurt. Not really.

I feel the telephone receiver you break on my head. And it doesn't hurt. Not really.

I feel the broom on my foot again. I can't walk now. But still, it doesn't hurt. No, it doesn't.

And the belt on my skin, tearing me open. But it doesn't hurt. Not really.

It's only my body you're breaking. And my body is not me.

You don't love me but it doesn't matter. I don't love me either.

And it's only my body you're breaking. Maybe some of this will heal. And maybe some of it won't.

It doesn't matter. I don't care. Don't let it worry you. Don't carry it into tomorrow.

It's only my body you've broken. And my body matters about as much as I do.

So leave it for now.

Leave it forever.

It doesn't matter.

Not really.

A Storm Raging Through My Frozen Heart Tonight

It all seems so unreal now. The way we started. The way we ended. It was all make believe. I pretended you were perfect though I knew you were not.

I was hiding from my own pain and I didn't want to face being alone. She left and she took with her the colours of the sky, the rainbow in my eye, my heart's ease, my heart's delight.

She left and I stepped out of my cocoon and found the world cold and blaring and full of jagged little edges that surprised me, that cut me, that hurt.

I shouldn't have stepped out of my cocoon but how could I help it when she was the body that surrounded me, enveloped me, protected me from the world. In her arms, I was always safe. In her eyes, I was a real person, not a shadow.

I mattered.

And then I didn't. Her eyes grew cold. Her arms didn't encircle so much as push me away.

I tried to grab hold but further and further I went. There was no stopping this downward spiral. I was desperate. I tried everything. But the more I did, the further she seemed.

And one day she turned to me, sadness in her eyes, regret.

And I knew it was over.

We waited in the spaces between breaths. No one wanted to say it first. Words can be so final. We leave them unspoken hoping we'll never have to speak them. Hoping things will change. Hoping we'll wake up tomorrow and everything will be all right.

But in that space between breaths, I felt something tearing. I heard someone weeping. Maybe it was me. I felt myself falling, scrambling for a handhold on the sheer rock face but there was none.

And so I fell. I fell. I kept falling.

Help me, I screamed. Somebody save me, I screamed.

There was only silence. When the only one who loves you ceases to love you, there is only silence. And it is deafening.

I wanted to wrap my arms around her. I wanted to weep on her skin. But I knew she was freezing. I knew she would look through me, with that look in her eyes. I felt her contempt sear my eyelids and then... I felt my heart ice over.

It was the only way to arrest the free fall. It was the only way not to smash on the rocks. It was the only way to survive.

Sometimes I wish I had just allowed myself to keep falling. However long it took; a year or two or maybe 10. I could have dealt with it. One hour at a time, breathed through the pain, allowed it to wash over, allowed myself to cry, though not in public, allowed myself to completely unravel.

And then, when I was done falling apart, I could sort through the debris, the detritus of me, and slowly, excruciatingly, put myself together again.

Pain would be better than this nothing I feel now. Pain would be better than frozen.

April may be the cruelest month but I'm not going to thaw anytime soon.