Happy Dog Day

Lucy Like-a-Charm - Sonorous Repose 2015

Lucy Like-a-Charm – Sonorous Repose 2015 by Dawn-joy Leong

Today is International Dog Day. I celebrate with Lucy our differently embodied existences. Her canine Being is precious to me. Lucy is not “just a dog” – she is a dynamic and sonorous entity to who has not only saved my life on many occasions, but continues to enhance, enrich my realm with pulchritude worth far more than any human is able to provide. Thank you for being a dog, and so much more than my humanity can be. Lucy Like-a-Charm, I love you.

warm vanilla dreams

Another excruciating day. The tentacles of damp are clamping tighter and tighter around my ankles, sending neuropathic screams upwards, spiralling aroud the calves, settling around knee and hip joints, celebrating with clammy fireworks, then swirling in cruel rhythmic patterns around the lower back. Autism hypersenses or the autoimmunity? Who knows? Have we solved the chicken egg conundrum yet? Continue reading

cloudy

IMG_0796lucy-bw

Lucy is my Angel of Clemency.

[This is not a Pity-Party Poor-Me post. I am voicing these thoughts because I hope that there will be greater awareness and understanding of the conundrum faced by autistic people who struggle to live and function within a system that is largely alien to our innate make up. It is not a grumble either. There is no “Us vs Them” anymore in my mind. I strive for Neurocosmopolitanism – a coming together and blending of minds – rather than to emphasise the divide.]

After two days of intense sunshine and heat, last night, it finally rained a little. We woke up to cloudy skies and a relatively robust wind. I have a love hate relationship with robust wind. On one hand, I love the refreshing feeling of a good cool breeze, the way it skims over my skin in a firm, passing yet continuous caress, but my auditory senses become increasingly stressed by the cornucopia of sounds that the wind stirs up. Rustling leaves are delightful, but my senses can only absorb and contain a limited volume – decibel level, frequency and yes, ‘volume’ as in capacity – before becoming overwhelmed. Continue reading

Angel’s Breath

angel's breath

Listening
Whirring fridge
A flat
Human laughter in the wind
Slightly off C
Sudden dull thuds
Quickened heartbeat
A flash of white
Searing fear
Sirens scream
Inside the cavity
Of acid green
What is that smell?
Nebulous, acrid
Footsteps pounding
Headspace resounds
Broken B
Chairs dragged
Across cheap tile
Shattered F sharp
Quivering interstice
And then amidst the chaos
Here in my bed
An angel’s breath
Comforts me

(2014 06 09)

HOPE

A high anxiety, non-verbal morning. I am saving my vocalising energy for the hospital later when I have to do a test there. Lucy does not mind, we can ‘speak’ with myriad languages of gestures, noises and gazes.

Hope Dog

I saw this photo of an abandoned dog on Facebook this morning, posted by HOPE Dog Rescue (Facebook page). My heart breaks every time I read about abuse, especially abuse of pets. Perhaps I identify better with these silent, vulnerable creatures, than with the powerful, socially aggressive human species? No science needed here. People tell me to avoid looking at such things – yes, sure, ignore the horrible and it will go away? I do stop when I become overwhelmed, but I do not wish to deny them a voice. By listening to their pleas, I give them voice. And I try to be a channel whenever I can. My sister and I support the work of this group of people. Strays and feral dogs in my home country are by-products of our own human carelessness and callousness. HOPE Dog Rescue, despite their somewhat primitive methodologies (what choice do they have?), give these forlorn, hapless beings hope, and in so doing, give us humans hope for atonement.

Please check out their blog. HOPE Dog Rescue blog.

My response:

The tragedy of abandonment
Is human
The travesty of cruelty
Is human
“Animals have no rights”
Said a human
Tis true, their rights are taken
By humans
But humans have rights
To be human
Should we not then exert the privilege
Of goodness
Of mercy
Of grace
Should we not wield our right
To do right
From out of our
Shriveled
Humanity?

tightrope

Sometimes, my hypersenses make me feel as if I am dancing along a tightrope. Mind, I am risk averse, so it isn’t a fun undertaking at all. Today, after a rather refreshing brisk afternoon walk with my baby girl, I decided to trim her nails. I had a terrible nightmare last night about one of her nails being badly deformed, and I tried to clip it but did a bad job and it was bleeding all over the floor. Well, she does not have a deformed nail, but that is exactly what I did when I clipped her nail today. She flinched at the moment that I pressed on the clipper, and my hand slipped further into the quick than I intended. There was a sharp yelp, and then blood all over the rug. I am not one to panic in an emergency, so I kept talking to her cheerfully and reached for the styptic pencil. Useless thing it was, and I resorted to cornflour instead. It worked. All the while, I was chatting away with her as if it was a game, and of course I gave her lots of treats (homemade beef jerky). I then clipped two more nails, properly this time, to ease her over the fear, so she will not develop a paranoia over nail clipping.

It has taken us both such a long while to learn to do this without too much anxiety, I felt as if I undid so much of the good work in that one careless instant. Well, emergency over, she has had a nice nap in bed, which is of course covered in cornflour and a few small blood splotches, but none the worse for wear. The tightrope? My heart is still pounding from the horrible sinking feeling that leaped into my throat and gripped my chest at the instant when I realised I had hurt my baby. It isn’t the blood that disturbs me, nor the mess, it is the fact that I caused her pain, albeit accidental and momentary. I feel the pain in a palpable way, a kind of resonant symbiosis-osmosis, a sort of transference-empathy, it is as if I am hurt too. Perhaps even more so than she is. In fact, I think much more so!

The little Minx is milking it, of course. She even reached out her hurt paw, pointed it at me, before she fell into a snore-ful sleep!

🙂

eutony

Lucy. LucyLouLou. LouLouBelle. Pupsicle. BabyGirl. Moppet. I love the names I’ve given her, and funny enough, she answers to all of them, humouring this idiotic human trait in her mumma.  Continue reading

perquisite

Steak reward!

Steak reward!

I just had to reward myself after a sensorially stressful session yesterday afternoon. I attended a seminar about thesis submission. It was very well organised and presented, and I gleaned a great deal of information from it. Well worth the sensory stress, but it was still an ordeal from that perspective.

Nothing new to report about humanity in general, you’ve probably experienced the same situation countless times, even if perhaps from a slightly less sensory acute vantage point. Or wait, perhaps you are one of the guilty ones? Anyhow, I arrived 5 minutes before commencement. I hurried up the road, huffing and puffing, because I hate being late, but I had dawdled for too long trying get Lucy’s things and my things organised and packed. The majority of attendees were there well in time and seated comfortably in places of their choices. I headed straight for the row at the very back, away from everyone, and settled Lucy down onto her sheepskin rug at my feet. The seminar began.

Then the “Little House of Human Horrors Side-Show” commenced too. Continue reading

we’ll eat cake!

No, not in the context of Marie Antionette’s infamous words. Just a literal Aspie Bunny one.

Yesterday,the three of us friends had a fabulous luncheon at my favourite neighbourhood cafe, Not Just Coffee. I could give you a long list of reasons why I love this place, but this post is not a review article, so I shall refrain. However, if you are ever in the vicinity (Paddington, Sydney), do please drop by and say hello to the lovely team there, especially to Kit, and tell them you’ve read all about their fabulousness in a fabulous blog! 🙂 Continue reading