dehydration

Yesterday, I tried valiantly, and with great determination, to return a faulty dishwasher. The person on the other end remained stolid. It was I, not the dishwasher, that was the anathema, the malfunctioning entity. There was much spewing of verbiage completely irrelevant to my pleas, throwing of sparkly dust hither-thither and blowing of bizarre smelling fumes into my face. Exhausted and worn out to the very crisp core, I finally threw in the proverbial towel, recognising this as an exercise of futility.  I threw out the dishwasher. It now sits, sad and forlorn, in the junk heap. I swear, when I walked past this morning, I saw a malevolent snigger painted across its glass face.

This morning, Lucy woke me up at 6am, asking to be taken outside for our morning walky. Without her, I am not sure I would have the strength to get out of bed, even though sleep, most of the time, is pretty much like the spawn from a trashy, poorly written novel and an elusive goblet of sweet wine.

My eyes hurt. A stabbing pain. My skull throbs. A vice across the front squeezing intermittently. My brain is screeching a high pitched, dehydrated and incomprehensible sprechstimme.

It’s still April. Yes, I did check.

This Autism Awareness thingy, and the chorus of dissent from the actually Autistic community (justified and worthy of support), has already kicked a deep dent into my fragile construction of Clement Space.

Today, I just want to celebrate April as Adopt a Greyhound Month. Please.

Here, I present to you, Lucy Like-a-Charm in Sonorous Repose. A collection of photos I created in 2015, about her innate ability to identify, take possession of, and craft intimate spaces of comfort and calm, wherever she may go. A skill I very much want to learn.

Lucy Like-a-Charm in Sonorous Repose 2015

Available as limited edition prints. Enquiries welcome.

Greyhounds are such pulchritudinous creatures. Adopt a Greyhound this April! Bring back beauty into your life, Oh, Weary Soul!

(Or, perhaps you might want to bring one of these limited edition prints into your home? It would help an Autistic Bunny and her Greyhound Angel to procure much needed rations for survival of April BlahBlah Month!)

A Greyhound in My Wheelbarrow

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Greyhound racing banned in NSW, Australia today!

Four years ago, when Lucy came into my life, I had no idea we would have such amazing adventures and even witness many historical makings.

Today, in the wee hours of the morning, after a lengthy debate in parliament, Greyhound racing was banned in NSW. It is historic indeed, and what a huge fight it was too! I am, of course, celebrating this event. Continue reading

voicing the voice

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Off to face the world!

It began foggy, damp and cold. We lay in bed, unwilling to emerge from under our warm cocoon. Angel alarm has not been working for some time now. Is it her age? No matter, mumma’s turn to take over the waking up process.

All quiet, apart from the whirring of traffic and birdsong – absolute bliss. No anxious listening out for grating vocalisations and cling-clang-slam of doors etc, planning the morning dash to kitchen and bathroom to avoid having our morning peace cruelly interrupted. Or destroyed. Continue reading

begin the end

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(Image is a screenshot from the article)

I truly hope that I am witnessing the beginning of the end of Greyhound Racing in Australia.

A great article I read today:

Underdogs: the sad fate of greyhounds

After the horrors of ridiculous to disgusting reporting on autism, it’s heartening to see that some journalists in mainstream media are getting it right, well, at least on another topic that I am passionate about anyway. Greyhounds.

pleasant thoughts

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I am tired out, run down and just exhausted – too much human interaction, and the intensity of emotion is overpowering. The sheer weight of the facts and figures, logical deduction and analyses, vs. the bog of perplexing inane arguments in response to critical truth, and yes, that Aspie thing, you know, questions still unaddressed, that really gets me down. A non-cadential stretto in raging crescendo. I need to leave the concert hall. Wagner would be proud of the drama, for sure.

In the midst of the noisome pestilence, the tumultuous churning of debris, there were some truly beautiful moments in my day. These little things actually do matter more on a personal level. They give me strength and offer tranquility. Safe havens for my thoughts and emotions, and clement grace for my fraught senses.

Lucy – there is no imperfection in her.

Food – I am thankful to have food, and to enjoy the challenge of making simple fare look and taste good.

Fruit! – my tomatoes have grown! I planted these from seeds taken from fresh tomatoes, and they are growing at last. Thank you, Rick, for keeping my plants alive (well most of them are alive, the important ones, so it’s all good!).

And now, I shall retire into bed with my beautiful warm vanilla hound. She is there waiting for me. Good night, everyone.

We wish for all Greyhounds to have this blessedness!

hamlet

She was just 18months old. Listen to the announcement at around 1:45. “The kindest thing to do … just euthanise the Greyhound.” For what? A broken leg. Any intelligent logical thinking person would ask some questions, no? I shall not list those questions here, because I assume that anyone reading my blog is well able to ask these questions unaided.

Here is my rant. Continue reading

Greyhounds love to run!

Greyhounds love to run!

Greyhounds love to run! Yes, Lucy shows that she does indeed! But for FUN!!!!! Not for your greed!

An old photo of Lucy (above), when still having to wear that awful dreaded muzzle, before she passed her ridiculously named ‘decommissioning’ test, as self-regulated by the now disgraced Greyhound racing industry. And a lovely video of happy Greyhound Sissy (below). This is how it should be!

“Greyhounds LOVE to run.” Yes, that is one of the most popular exclamations one hears from the pro-racing humans, bleating justifications for their indulgence in this barbaric and cruel form of animal circus entertainment. Reaping in money for themselves, no doubt.

Amidst the live-baiting horrors, the backlash and the vile hitting back at the “bloody animal activists” who bravely ventured forth to uncover the sick evil in the racing industry, here is a lovely and happy visual capture from Sissy, the gorgeous Greyhound. A former racing dog, just like Lucy, Sissy now at last enjoys the life she deserves: as a beloved pet in a responsible and loving family environment. This is how all Greyhounds ought to be.

Yes, indeed, Greyhounds do LOVE to run. And so they should be allowed to run. But not to feed human greed and lust for blood and violence. (Did you hear those ‘top trainers’ cackle away in laughter as they broke the backs of the live bait animals in that ABC exposé video? Did you see what they did to the black Greyhound, shoving its nose into the live bait and lifting its hind quarters? – See previous post.)

Run, run, run, and have lots of fun, Sissy and Lucy! Show the world what truly HAPPY Greyhounds are like!

blood

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Blood on our hands. Humans have much to answer for. I am not talking about the centuries of horrific travesties, I am just going to cite one small example. It is a relatively ‘insignificant’ example in the grand cosmic wealth of evil that humans generate relentlessly. Who cares about dogs or pigs or rabbits or possums, when there are millions of humans dying by the second?

You may not, but I do. And I care a lot more now than ever before. Because I’ve had the joy and honour of having one of these magnificent animals live with me, bring me immeasurable wonderment and bless my life in ways no other animal, human or other, has ever done before. It breaks my heart to think Lucy and thousands of others came from this life. Yes, Lucy was one of the lucky few. This should not be.

Watch this. If you are able to view it, use Hola unblocker on Chrome. Before you start babbling about the pros or cons of Greyhound racing, or saying stupid things like, “Let’s not judge,” etc. WATCH THIS FIRST. You will either be utterly shocked and repulsed, or you might proceed to make your excuses to support this terrible sick form of entertainment. Reminder: these are TOP people in the industry. And this is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

OK, if you support this disgusting entertainment, yes, then I suppose you will now begin to make your excuses and disclaimers. Whichever way, I do think this has brought everything out into the open. Time to stand and be counted. Either way. Do it.

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

begin the end

Do I not deserve a better life than being a racing dog?

Do I not deserve a better life than being a racing dog?

I caught up with some blog reading this morning. Here is a brief but meaningful blog post by Dr. Anne Fawcett in Small Animal Talk: “Is it time for Greyhound racing to retire?”

This is long overdue. Especially in a first-world country such as Australia, It is time to end Greyhound racing. I am personally against all betting ‘sport’ using animals (why can’t humans only gamble on themselves?) – but this post is about Greyhounds in particular. You hear so many utterly ridiculous excuses from those who breed, own, and train Greyhounds for racing. A classic one is, “They love to run!” Yes, they do love to run, but not the way you lot have forced them to run, the way you train them, house them, feed them, pump them full of substances that may or may not be illegal but are all aimed at making them run faster and not for their general wellbeing, and then kill them (sometimes inhumanely – it doesn’t take great effort to find reports about ‘failed’ racing Greyhounds being drained of their blood and dying a slow death, breaking their legs on the track and left screaming in pain for hours, waiting for the other races to finish, before being killed etc). Another claim these people make is, “We love our dogs, they are treated like royalty, better than people!” (and variations on the same theme.) Honestly? Would you treat your own child the way they treat their ‘royalty’? I definitely don’t see how there can even be any similarity at all. Duh. Continue reading