Of Wheelbarrows and Spades

Chores… the word strikes at the heart of every prepubescent in every household. Parents say that chores build character and yes, I agree 100%, but there are times when chores seem awfully close to child labour. And since, as a kid, I hardly ever got paid for doing chores it was even closer to child slavery!

Honestly, how many kids can say that their character and morals were built on a solid foundation of SLAVERY! Now THAT’S real character building. It didn’t just happen at home, it happened at school as well. When I think back, our little school out in the styx took just as much advantage of us than our parents did. Mr Terry, wielding a referees whistle while prancing around in his overly conspicuous short shorts would order us about. “Mow that grass!” “Rake them fields!” “Cut those brambles!” “Fill those potholes!” “Paint those lines!” we even built and mended the school picket fences in our so called ‘woodwork’ classes.

When we got home from school yet more chores awaited us. It didn’t matter that we had a domestic worker, we still had to mow the lawn, prune the trees, wash the cars, clean the house, cook some food, wash the dishes, wax and polish the floors, vacuum the carpets, do our homework… and my pet hate… Pick up the dog shit! Yes on top of the list of ‘crappiest chores’ was crap itself. It was wonderful having three Rhodesian Ridgebacks in our ample yard. Less wonderful, however, was having to clean up after them… my cousin or brother and I would have to do this chore as a team. One would brandish a spade whilst the other would follow closely with the old orange wheel barrow. It’s difficult to say which one I enjoyed doing more… or less to be honest (so so difficult to favour either shoveling excrement or carting excrement… nope, still can’t decide.

To add insult to injury, our dogs were fed the cheapest dog food on the market. Y’know the stuff that contains 95% bulk and 5% nutrition (we knew this then because it looked the same going in as did it coming out, had pretty much the same texture and I swear the same quantity). This was the dog food you could only buy in 50kg hessian sacks. I felt sorry for our dogs sometimes, the diet gave them a ton of gas. I can say with quite a large amount of confidence that these dogs farted more than they barked (and they barked at pretty much everything and everyone!).

In any case, I spotted one of our dogs taking a dump on our lawn today and it made me think about the ol’ wheelbarrow and spade routine. I thought to myself “EEbEE, you’re a scientist… think of something that could make that Satan spawn chore a bit easier”. Then it hit me, like a sack of… well you know…. The answer was so simple and so effective. I called it the “Poo Auger”. The doodle below illustrates my geniusness!!!

See!!! The poo just gets buried where it lies. Not only is it easier than shoveling and carting but you also end up fertilizing the lawn! You can even take your “Poo Auger™” camping so you can easily hide all evidence of that boskak you took after eating bad potjie. I will be taking bulk orders for the “Poo Auger™” order 10 or more and get a free 2ply camping toilet roll dispenser!

So back to the chores, I’d hate for everyone to think that I was tortured as a kid so I’m going to come clean. The chores didn’t actually take much of our leisure time or even effort come to think of it… it’s just that we HAD to complain bitterly when we got chores. This was purely to avoid being given more chores... I’m sure our parents would have piled on the work if we showed any signs of enjoyment while doing those things “EEbEE enjoys mowing the lawn, he should do it more often”.

All I can say is that when my own kids are growing up, they will each get a shovel and wheelbarrow set on their 6^th birthdays (or should I make it 5^th?).

Give a dog a bone

Last month I got quite concerned about little Charlie Basset. He stopped eating! After showing zero interest in his morning kibble I decided to consult the Basset manual. The manual basically describes Basset Hounds as humble priests that only bow down to an alter of food. The manual says, and I quote “…you can train your Basset to walk on water for food…”.

Needless to say, I paged straight to the sickness and wellbeing section of the manual. I carefully read through all the known health issues and symptoms and simply couldn’t find one that matched Charlie’s behavior. The closest I got was gastric torsion; this happens when your dog eats too much air and it gets trapped in the GIT causing massive discomfort, pain and… loss of appetite. The manual said it can be fatal in a matter of hours. So I picked up Charlie and massaged his belly while holding him upright all the time listening for the movement and release of trapped air…

Nothing…

What could it be???

I wasn’t convinced by the symptoms, he was still as playful and happy as the day we got him. No signs of discomfort either, just a loss in appetite. 12 hours later his bowl of food was still untouched. He wouldn’t even eat his special treats or even sausage!!!

I spent that night checking on Charlie every hour for signs of stress or pain to no avail. He seemed perfectly healthy. The next day he ate a little after being messaged for around 20 minutes but it was only about a ¼ of his usual quantity. By that evening I was convinced that I should take him to the vet. I was so close to loading him up into my bakkie to the vet before I noticed something…
There…

…between his legs…

This dog had a serious boner!

Could it be??? His love of food has just temporarily been blocked out by…


...other needs…

My Charlie is growing up so quickly *sniff-sniff* (I'm listening to 'Alphaville - forever young' and crying helplessly right now)...{no, not really, what do you take me for!?}

I chose not to go to the vet and instead monitor his… penis… till I got an answer. That very afternoon I got a sign (I'll leave out the desciption here to address my TMI comment from a previous post). Charlie tried to hump my leg as I was brushing his coat. Slightly disgusted but less worried about his condition, I retired to bed to have a good night’s sleep. The next day, I was able to draw a pattern, every time I gave Charlie attention he got a boner! By the afternoon he was humping the edge of his tyre bed.

Sigh! (…of relief more than anything)

All is well now, I guess his hunger took over from his hormones after three days of eating a fraction of food.

The day I got it wrong

(Warning! this is a long and serious post with no traces of arb or humour)

So there I was making plans to take my basset hound Charlie for his first ever puppy social with two friends. It was a pleasant day and I expected everything to go well. I mean, how could three people walking their dogs in the park on a nice day possibly go wrong…

Well it did go wrong.

VERY wrong.

I offered to pick up one of my mates and her pooch on the way to the venue to make life a bit easier and for some company on the way. She agreed and off we went together up the hill to meet up with the rest of our party. Now, people that know me tend to put up with my silly hygiene issues and carry on with life. The issue in question in this situation was the fact that I don’t allow dogs to sit in the front of my bakkie (bakkie = truck or utility van). People in front, dogs at the back I’ve done it on many occasions (there is a canopy so it’s quite safe) and it hasn’t ever been a problem.

We went on to pick up my dog and then off to rendezvous. This is where the story takes a turn for the worse. At the rendezvous we get out the car to meet the rest of the party and check on the dogs at the back of my bakkie. I open the top half of the door only to be greeted by one dog (Charlie)… where was the 2^nd one?

Turns out my friends’ dog saw her owner leave, jumped through the window and into the front of my bakkie to follow and got closed shut in there in the process.

“Arrgh! A dog in the front of my bakkie!” I thought as I went through to the passenger door to fetch the dog with the intention of returning it to the back of the bakkie. BAD MOVE… as soon as I opened the door I realised that this dog was not going to allow me (a complete stranger) to pick it up. At that instant I froze giving the dog an opportunity to jump out the cabin and onto the road. She tried to run toward her owner but there was a deep gutter in the way and the only alternative to get to said owner was past me. She scooted past my legs and in a consequent failed attempt to grab her I ended up scaring her across the road where, as fate would have it, a car was driving past.

It happened so quickly in front of my very eyes, I remember every detail. With the direction of travel, momentum and fear this dog had, I thought she was a goner. I winced in helplessness as the car approached. Then I observed something quite strange, call me crazy but it appeared as though the dog hit some sort of invisible barrier literally centimeters away from the cars bumper and tire. She let out a Yip redoubled backwards and spun around holding her front left paw in the air in pain before running across to the other side of the road.

We proceeded to take the dog to the vet her owner crying uncontrollably all the while. She decided not to take a lift with me… and even though I followed and tried to be there for her, I kept getting the feeling that my mere presence was unwelcome. This was perhaps the most uncomfortable I’d ever felt. Sensing her need for space (from me the guy that almost killed her dog) and not quite knowing how to react I decided to keep my distance at the vet. I stuck around for a bit before realizing how useless I must have looked and said goodbye shortly after finding an excuse to leave and get my mind off the situation.

I’ve apologized and offered to help in any way I can since, but I just can’t seem to shake off the whole ordeal… It’s even distracting me from my work. I keep thinking of how much of a pillock I was to prioritize my personal hygiene issues ahead of that little doggies safety. I keep thinking about my friend in tears. I keep thinking about how I could have been more responsible and prevented the whole thing from happening and about how things could have turned out so much worse.

The dog has since been X-rayed and fully checked up. Thankfully she is okay (a bruised muscle).

In any case I really just want to get over all this and carry on with life. I thought that getting it off of my chest in a post could do the trick. I will probably have to endure a fair amount of pointing, sneering and general cold stares from the dog lover society that has since kicked me out (I don’t blame them). Pity, I quite like them even though they will probably never be as friendly to me again. I guess this is the price one must pay for being an idiot. The worse case scenario is that word of my deed spreads quickly and that I’ll have to endure a fair amount of being ignored or worse still, I'll have to put up with fake friendliness from people that don’t like or respect me any more.

Ahhhhh…. (EEbEE smiles)

That worked really well. I feel much better after getting it off my chest. People make mistakes… shit happens. Get over it and move on. Why should I care about what people think of me. One thought one goal. The rest is noise.

A new doggy!

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, Charlie!

This picture was taken around two weeks ago when we just got him (±9 weeks old). Notice me in the backgroud dogproofing the fence...it worked! He hasn't managed to escape yet. Then again, bassett hounds are not the escape artist type. All it took were some cable-ties and shade cloth.

This is the "I'm lonely and hungry, come feed and play with me" look. It NEVER leaves his face. You get over it after a few weeks. Still works like a charm on people that come to visit though...

Things I've learned about Charlie:

1. Miniscule attention span. He gets bored playing with a ball after about 5 seconds. This may be a new record...
2. If left to his own devices, he will wonder off aimlessly in a random direction with no intention of returning.
3. His favorite toy is a stuffed banana with a face and built in Whoopie cushion (whoever thought of this was a GENIUS!).
4. He trips over his ears when he walks.

I've heard that it's REALLY difficult to train bassett hounds. I'm going to give it a try anyway. Watch this space (and wish me luck)!

Watson the Rhodesian Ridgeback

I have a new dog!

He did have parvo. Thanks to the life saving efforts of one Helen Antelme, Watson is once again a chubby puppy. Thanks Helen!

This photo taken 1.5 weeks ago just after treatment. He has filled out nicely since.