Animal Ethics

I’m having a crisis of faith in the human race.

Mahatma Gandhi once said ‘The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated’.

If this is the case we, as a country are on a path to ruin and despair.

I was speaking with L. today, she works in small animal rescue. She told me that recently a baby guinea pig came into her care after the box it was in (with the rest of it's litter mates) was fished out of the river. It was the only one to survive.

My friend N, recently came into procession of a six week old kitten after it was found in a dumpster, cuddled up to his dead sister.

Dogs being surrendered to the pound and being kicked and beaten between the car and the office. This I have seen with my own eyes.

I was told of a Maltese that came to the pound so matted it had barbed wire stuck in its coat. The dog had to be shaved and several infected wounds were treated.

What kind of animal would do that to another? The Human Animal, that's who.

***

Anne Sewell (1820 - 1878), author of the novel Black Beauty said,
‘We call them dumb animals, and so they are, for they cannot tell us how they feel, but they do not suffer less because they have no words.’

I believe this to be true; they simple are unable to tell us. They don’t have a voice that we understand, it doesn’t mean that they don’t have a voice. I’m convinced they know when a kind human crosses their path and helps them. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. After months and years of abuse, animals will present themselves to be helped. Dogs will let you dress wounds, even though they are clearly in pain. I have had cats that fight when you give them a worming tablet, but when injured will let you administer antibiotics and cleanse wounds.

I’ve been called a mad cat lady for helping out. I've had friends turn their backs to me and fall from contact because of my desire to help out.

I know others that have been told they’re wasting their time fighting for new laws about puppy farming.

I’ve had conversations with animal rescuers that have had friends turn their backs on them because of their obsession with helping animals.

I’ve been told, ‘it’s just a dog’. It's not just a dog, she's a member of the family, my pack.

***

Anyone who tries to improve the lives of animals invariably comes in for criticism from those who believe such efforts are misplaced in a world of suffering humanity.
Jane Goodall (1934 - )

Why are humans so dismissive of the suffering of animals? Is it because it’s so easy to avoid the gaze of a distressed puppy?
I’ve seen this look, it’s devastating. They may not be able to speak the words, ‘I’m hurting’ but their eyes speak volumes.

I’ve come to the realisation that I do not need people in my life that think I’m a fruitcake for caring about animals more than I care for humans.

Humans, for the most part can fend for themselves, animals can’t. They need a kind and loving hand to feed them, house them and provide a safe environment that keeps them from harm, but they also need family.

Dogs are pack animals, and humans form that pack if there are no other dogs around. If they are beaten, they will still be loyal but not because they don’t care about being beaten, not because they don’t feel the pain and betrayal of it, it’s because the crave the pack life. Be a kind pack leader or don’t bring a dog into your life. Certainly don’t use them as money machines just because they can’t tell you they’re in pain and would love to see the sunshine.

Alas I fear that the human condition is that we treat the voiceless with contempt and not just animals. I will continue to be that mad animal lady, whether it be cats, dogs, chooks, or whatever comes my way. If it needs caring for I will do my best and it will break my heart to let them go when it’s time.

I will continue to talk to my animals regardless of the looks and comments I receive from strangers and friends alike. I may not understand their reply in words, but I know they understand me and that I only wish them well.

As for all my friends that continue the pursuit of rights for animals in the belief that all animals deserve to be treated with respect. You go for it. I’m behind you all the way and will help in any way I can.

I’m going to go home tonight, i'll hug the cats, once again ask Oren why she keeps chasing Jack but get no reply except the look that says, I just don't like his face', feed the chooks and give them their favourite food, cracked corn and all weekend I shall continue to pursue my hunt for Cara. If I have no other human contact I won’t feel like I’ve missed out, because frankly the more I deal with some humans, the more I like animals. They have no hidden agenda.

Will

There are days when the will to live is dealt a severe blow. When you are consistently shadowed by a big black dog, the blow may be something small to ordinary man, but as far as you’re concerned you may as well have had a house fall on you.

I had every intention of being to work for nine this morning. I even managed an early night by being in bed and light out before 11pm. I was up, showered and all animals fed and watered by 8pm, I was parking the car outside number 16 by ten past eight.

First blow. Number 16 is nearly three-quarters of kilometre away from the station. It’s pretty much as close as you can get. At that time I should have been down around number 6 or 8, but these big houses have wide street frontage and I was basically twice as far away as I should have been.
I had to run down the hill for the train.

Second blow. There were men in uniform checking tickets. Stopping everyone. I had to dig in my bag for my weekly, usually done on the train between stations and just before I get off the train. Today, I missed the train I was aiming for by a couple of seconds.

It was OK…the next train would get me into the office just after 9am.

If only the train hadn’t been significantly delayed due a mechanical failure.

I stepped on the train at 8.44.

I got into the office at 9.38. And the desk I was supposed to be sitting at was occupied. At least the computer was. So I had to hunt for a spare desk.

My will to live on a scale of 1 – 10 is currently sitting at about 4.

And yes, I'm aware on the grander scale of world problems it ranks roughly as a nothing. It's my world I concerned with right this minute. I'll deal with bigger issues later, when I'm feeling up to it.

I really hate days like this. It can only get better.

Are you really sorry?

When you hear the phrase, ‘I hate to do this to you, but…’ you know the next words are going to be something you will not like.

There really is nothing like being told you have to move because someone more important than you is being employed and they need to sit in ‘that’ seat because they are a permanent member of staff and you, well, you’re just a contractor, to make you feel welcome.

The rumblings of movement had started on Tuesday when I was asked, ‘I hate to do this to you, but …is this your permanently assigned desk?’

‘As far as I’ve been told yes, at least until your department moves to xxx at the end of July and then the team I work with will be resettled together.’

Of course that wasn’t the first thing that went through my head. The first thing was more like – If you really hated to do it, you wouldn’t, but you’re going to anyway because really you have no feelings on the issue except to get what you want.

‘Oh, I have a permanent employee starting next week, you need to move.’

‘In that case you’ll need to speak with A. to discuss seating arrangements.’ I said.

I had to pack up the contents of the desk on Friday and shove my belongings into a cupboard.

***

Why do people say sorry for things they really aren’t sorry for?

It’s a word that is losing its meaning through over and incorrect use. If you let the door close on someone on purpose, don’t say sorry, say, ‘I’m an ignorant arse.’ If on the other hand you genuinely didn’t see the people directly behind you, apologise.

When you push in the queue, don’t speak the word of apology as you jump in front of others, say it like it really is, ‘I really do believe that my time is more valuable than yours, so I’m not waiting’.

Everyone knows what you’re thinking, so please speak the truth and stop devaluing the sorry word.

***

Today I have been moved on twice. I will be ‘hot-desking’ for at least 30 days. It’s going to be so much fun because I’ll meet people I’ve never met before when they see me sat at their desk and ask, ‘Why are you sitting here?’

I won’t be apologising, I’ll be speaking the truth. ‘I’m sitting here because there is nowhere else for me to sit and for some reason I’m not allowed t work at home.’

Lottery Win

Natasha was from Spain. I thought she was the absolute bees-knees. She had an exotic accent and lovely skin. She was my friend and her Mum would make little cakes whenever I went over after school. Also, Natasha had three recorders, a normal sized one, a medium and a big one, all of which she could play. She could read music too. The recorders were mostly black but had creamy detailing on the mouth piece and banding towards the top and at the bottom. Aulos made these masterpieces of music, in all their smooth plastic glory. I remember that because they were so much prettier than the wooden ones the school lent to others.

I wanted to learn the recorder, but being from a big family I got to learn the guitar because we had one in the loft. It was massive and came in an even more massive hard case which I had to carry it to school in; switching it from hand to hand along the way. Mr Hardman taught guitar and he was school staff, no extra payments required. Recorder required an outside teacher and a one pound sub was required for each lesson.

I was eight years old and three months older than Natasha.

***

A few weeks ago I was out at a comedy club waiting for my spot. One of the other comedians went on stage with a guitar and played a tune and sang a funny ditty. Having never stuck out the guitar lessons, (mainly because the thing was such a pain to lug around) I have no musical instrument but it got me to thinking about how I could incorporate it into my comedy act without actually playing anything.

I came up with, take some drum sticks on stage and say, ‘I was gonna play you a drum solo, but some bastard nicked my drums!’ Boom Boom.

Then I remembered Natasha and her recorder. The idea of a 40 year old walking onto stage with a recorder would be a joke all of its own. No playing required.

***

A week ago I brought a lottery ticket for $23. I won $12. The first win in a very long time, but a win is a win, so I put the cash in my wallet.

I was walking through town on my lunch break thinking, as you do, when I found myself outside Allan’s Music.

With my $12 I procured a shiny new recorder. Not an Aulos, but a Yamaha. They make good motorbikes, so surely the quality of their products would be even. I also brought a book called ‘Recorder for Beginners, Book 1’. My lottery win was exhausted.

And now I have a new thing to learn. Maybe not master, but learn. I have my first lesson tonight.



I wonder if Natasha continued with her recorder playing.

Please hold!

Have you ever been on the receiving end of a call that has instantly been put on hold?
I have many times.
Ring ring, ring ring.
‘Good afternoon, XYZ Company, Melody speaking, would you mind holding?’ Click.

You don’t even get a chance to protest before your ear holes are being assaulted by some of the worst music know to man or a poorly tuned radio station. Plus, what would happen if you said ‘Yes, I mind holding’.

Today, someone at work was on hold, on speaker, so we all (those within a 10 metre radius) had to endure the tinny strains of synthesised Green Sleeves.

I remember many years ago when I was working for a start-up company as the office manage I had to get a telephony system put in. We were given a choice of hold music; radio, white noise, the classics played by fingerless monks of the moors of whoop whoop or our own messages recorded and played back. The MD selected the ‘Classics’ because he didn’t know what to say and he was too cheap to pay for the radio option.

After three months of countless comments about bleeding ears from customers he decided to write and record some nuggets of wisdom like, ‘Your call is very important to us, please hold’ and ‘If you’d like to leave a message press star and someone will get back to you’. They were powerful, but to the point. The customers stopped complaining.

Why do companies insist on torturing their customers with these crimes against music?

Also, the 80s have a lot to answer for with the invention of the keyboard you don’t have to play but could just press back beat buttons.

Boys

There has been another scandal involving sporting folk in Australia. Shock horror! In a nation that worships participants of sporting activities like the deities of ancient cultures it's not an uncommon occurrence.


When a rugby player assaults his wife, it's fair enough, pres coverage is expected and yes, he should get into trouble. He behaved like an ar*ehole and committed a crime.

When Australian Football League players goes out on a bender and fall asleep in a bush, yes, the papers have a right to report that, but it's hardly a capital crime. He was an idiot, no harm done except for a few broken branches.

When a cricketer sends saucy text messages to a lady other than his wife. Again idiot, but do we really not have enough drama in our own lives that we have to feed off others?

The most recent trouble is because two Australian swimmers posted a picture of themselves on Facebook posing with guns in a gun shop while taking a break during a training camp in California, America, where it legal to own and shots guns. The Aussie press went crazy, calling them 'Bad Boy Swimmers' and the act 'a gun-toting lark' suggesting the Australian Olympic Committee (AOC) ban them from attending the Olympic Games in August. One paper accused them of looking 'smug', dare I suggest they looked like young men having fun.

It's ridiculous. Yes, their judgement may not have been completely tip top, but I know a couple of people that have visited the States and spent time on the firing range, because they can. One of my mates even had a go with an Uzi. On the plus side of this, when the zombie apocalypse comes, he’ll know what to do.

Swimming Australia has said as a punishment they will be sent home as soon as their events are completed and will not be allowed to stay to enjoy rest of the game or take part in the closing ceremony.

Yesterday they came out and announced that they are imposing a ban on themselves using any social media before or during the Games. Stating they need to have no distractions in the seven week run up to the games.

Incidentally, it's also legal to own and shot guns here if you have a licence, but anyone can walk into a firearms shop and browse the cold hard steel and highly polished wooden butts. I’ve done that. There’s something quite intoxicating about the smell of gun metal. And I’m a girl.

Boys will be boys.

Leave them alone and focus on something important. Like that Milat kid killing his friend and getting 43 years…you practically skipped over that nugget.

Oh yes, and what about the participants of the Shooting events at the games in 2012. Air rifle, rifle and pistol, I'm pretty sure they'll be posing with guns at some point in the next few weeks.

Snug

No one would ever accuse me of being a domestic goddess.

I’m the first to admit I have better things to do than dust, sort, clean and wash.  Like sitting on the sofa doing crochet or reading a good book.  Things I actually enjoy.

Every now and then though I get the urge to clean, sort and wash.  I like to throw open the windows, crank up the tunes and get stuck into it. On Friday when I left work, it was chilly but clear skies.  I was revved up for a weekend chucking stuff out, filling the house with fresh air and finally being able to see the top of my desk.

But conditions needed to be right.

Rain of any sort kills the urge, dead.  Torrential rain just makes me want to hibernate like a bear, tucked into my warm, dry pit.  Eating beans from a tin while wearing baggy tracksuit bottoms and wearing Uggs.  Only going outside to get more wood for the fire.

I have been eating things other than beans, but the clothing of choice has involved sheepskin boots and I have been tucked up on the sofa.  The cats have been happy with this arrangement also.

If I didn’t have to get up and go photograph an event tonight I think I would stay in bed.  It’s warm here.  It’s dry here and I can listen to the sound of the falling rain in the comfort of knowing it isn’t going to get me.

Flower in my garden with fly and raindrops

The rapid pitter patter that ebbs and flows.  The tin roof amplifying the sound of every droplet that lands on it.  Watching the sky’s teardrops chase each other down the window to the ground. 

I like these things from the inside when tucked up snug as a bug in a toasty cocoon.

Golf plated printers

I have a bit of an issue with a business changing you an unreasonable amount of money.

I know this seems like a redundant statement but please let me explain.

As you may be aware my dog Cara has been missing for a while (since April 1st). This has meant that I have been doing an inordinate amount of colour copying and printing. This has forced me to shop around for a supplier with rates that please the budget and produce a product that pleases the eye.

I always used to be a fan on Kwik Kopy. When I was the editor of the Alpaca Hmmm… I used them for all my printing needs, I even took business to them from companies I was working for when they were anything but close. But these days I will NOT use them. Here’s why.

They print things and charge a rate that is somewhat premium conpared to some other printing houses. They have to receive files in a format, be it a MSWord or .pdf, whatever, in order to print the job. Am I correct in making this assumption about what they do? If they don’t receive a file, be it by email or USB stick thingy, they are UNABLE to do the job.

Why then, do they feel it appropriate to charge a fee to open a file? $10 for a word file and $5 for a .pdf. These charges are before you even have anything on paper. How long does it take to open a file?

It confuses me.

Would you pay a non-refundable $5 or $10 fee to use a basket in a supermarket?
Would a petrol station get away with a surcharge to get the fuel out of the hole in the ground to the car tank?
Would a café survive long if the started charging a ‘washing up’ fee?

These things are built into the price of the service being provided. So why oh why, does this printing place think it’s OK to charge you extra for something they have to do in order to serve you.

I’d really appreciate your thoughts on this one.

Would you pay the extra fee or go somewhere that doesn’t charge to open the file?

A Purpose

I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to be doing something meaningful with my life.

Writing plans and communicating with people who are essentially not interested in my message has taken its toll. I’m completely disillusioned with what I do. Change management is still relatively new to the corporate world and it’s still the first thing to when a project runs into financial difficulty. As a contractor, this instability is doing my head in. Plus, the role I’m doing at the moment is leaving me cold.

Yesterday, I went to Renbury Farm to take pictures of the pussy cats and other creatures that have been taken there either but their owners who don’t want them anymore or have been found and impounded until reclaimed or rehomed.

There are many deserving furbabies there, as there always is, but when I came to take a few pictures of doggies, I broke down in tears when one surrendered boy, medium sized, white and champagne coloured, looked up at me, but would not get eye contact. I looked at his sheet. Good with children, no barking, no fence jumping, toilet trained and good on a lead. The reason he was there. ‘We have no time to spend with him’. He was wedged in the corner of his pen, shaking and confused why he was there.

I cried all the way home. I tear up as I write just thinking about him. I want to call them and say I’ll pick him up next week, but it’s in no practical. I just want to help.
I find myself thinking about roles I can do in Not for Profit organisations that will help. Help anyone or anything.

Maybe this is why I’m leaning towards the celebrant work so much, after all it a form of help. Helping happy couple make their dream wedding happen. Helping grieving family lay their loved one to rest.

I need to win the lottery so I can quit work and volunteer part-time. Anyone know the numbers?

I'll be there

In this day and age of instant gratification is it too much to ask that when someone says, ‘I’ll be there’ that you expect them to show up? Of course, these words may be spoken or typed a couple of weeks in advance, therefore delaying the ultimate happiness that will ensue.

I ask this because I have noticed a high instance of behaviour that I do not quiet understand, because I cannot engage in it.

Years ago, I offered to babysit for my sister’s kidlets. This was a big commitment then as I live three buses, two train trips and twenty minutes of walking, away from her. It was in the days before I had my drivers licence. I remember her saying to me, ‘I know I can rely on you, you always do what you say you will.’ She’d been let down by local babysitters before.

Her saying that has stuck with me and to this day, if something is in my diary I will do it. I have to be really ill before I’ll pull out of something. I don’t want to share germ or myself worse. I also don’t want to cause the feeling of disappointment I have often felt.

Last night for instance. There was nothing wrong with me that an early night wouldn’t fix, but I really didn’t want to go to a theatre showing I had committed too. I did go, I ended up really enjoying myself and didn’t get to bed until midnight. Why, though should the other person pay for my lack of planning skills?

‘Cause really, that’s what it comes down to, lack of planning.

I overcommitted myself this week. I have been out every night but Tuesday. I’m out again tonight as well. I can sleep in tomorrow.

Others however, have no compunction about calling to say, ‘sorry, my couch looks really good and Masterchef is on tonight’ or worse, ‘I’ve got a better offer’. Of course, these words are never actually used, but they are the core of it.

So when I say, ‘I’ll be there’, I really mean it. I won’t let you down unless I’m dying.

An odd question

I’ve come to the conclusion that some people have a strange notion of morality.

Today I was asked while making myself a cup of tea, ‘What would do if you found out a disabled child had Cara?’

Everyone in the office knows I'm looking for my dog and often it's used as a conversation starter. You know the sort, 'how was your weekend?' 'have you found your dog yet?' etc.

Today it was about my ethics.

It was easy to answer, ‘I’d take her back and give the parents a bollocking for teaching their child it's ok to take something that isn't theirs’.

The woman that asked me the question is the mother of an autistic child and thought it was awful that I would deprive the child of a loved pet and have the nerve to talk to the parents about how to raise their child.

I tried to explain that had the parents done the right thing in the first place the child would not have had time to get attached to the pet and therefore would not be suffering with her being returned to her rightful owner.

The woman remained adamant that I was in the wrong.

So I asked her. ‘What would you do if someone took your child and didn’t return it, and it become the companion to a child in the new house, what would you do?

‘I’d take my child back.’ She replied.

‘My point exactly.’

‘Oh, it’s not the same’, she said, ‘It’s just a dog.’

At that point I turned to walk away, but she called me back and said, ‘You treat your animals too much like they are human.’

All I could say as I walked away again, was, ‘at least animals aren’t arseholes’.

I don’t think she’ll be speaking to me in the kitchen anymore ;)

How would you feel?

Would you take an idling car home and look after it? Or would you leave it be or maybe keep an eye on it for a while to make sure it wasn't stolen?

If you found a child wandering in a park would you take it home and keep it for yourself? Or would you try and find the parents and if not able to find them call the police?

Would you pick up a stray dog, take it home and not tell anyone?

The chances are you answered with a solution to the first two questions and maybe or yes to the third.

If you don't take the dog to the vet or call the local dog catcher (every council has one) to see if there is a microchip present, you could be keeping someone's child.

There are many excuses for animals not being handed in when found but here are a couple of the more common ones. I'd like to set the record straight on a couple:

1. It's just a stray dog I found. So I'll give it a good home.

Yes, it may well be a stray in need of a warm bed, good food and a human to love, but it may also be a beloved pet with all those things waiting at home. It's family may be fretting about the whereabouts after it freaked out for some reason (storm, fireworks etc.) and somehow got out of the usually secure house/garden. The dog you're 'caring for' may be looking at you and thinking, 'I just want to go home'. Dogs have a knack for escaping seemly inescapable places when frightened.

2. If I hand it in, it will be euthanised.

A stray is given at least two weeks to be found by its owners. If the animal is micro-chipped (and many are these days) it's likely that they will find each other very quickly and pet and human will be very grateful to you, they may even give you a reward. As the finder you can tell the pound/dog catcher you'll adopt if the owners aren't found so as to avoid the animal being put to sleep. Give it a chance to find it's family first though.

3. I'm afraid I'll get into trouble if I hand the animal in, I kept it over the weekend.

It's highly unlikely you'll get into trouble for looking after a dog over a weekend. If you keep the dog for weeks or months before handing it, then maybe you will, maybe you won't. It's a chance you take. Best to hand any animals you find in straight away with the offer to continue care should they not be reclaimed.

4. How do I know the dog or cat is micro-chipped?

You take it to the local vet and they will scan it for you free of charge. If you can’t get to the vet, call the local dog catcher, they will come to you.

Think about how you'd feel if a loved one went missing and you didn't know what had become of them. Would you worry day and night if they were dead or alive and safe?
Would you try and find them by any means possible?
Would you sleep well at night?

If you have an animal that you found, please take it to a vet to find out if there is someone doing and wondering all of the above.

How much money?

Last night Oz Lotto had a $74 million jackpot after rolling over from fifty million last week. I felt I had to donate to the prize pool, after all, you have to be in it, to win it.


Today there was an article in the paper with the headline, ‘Would $70million make you happy?’

My immediate response was ‘hell ya!’

One of the comments said ‘It’s not the money that makes you happy, it’s how you spend it.’ I agree with this and I have to say, I would have much fun spending it.

One of the first things I’d do is buy the house in Spain that Muv built. Then I’d repair it and get rid of any beige feature walls. I would also purchase myself a modest terrace within walking distance of Sydney. I’d also pay off all my debts (with interest to those that aren’t charging it).

Then I’d travel, see the world and help out communities that needed it. I’d teach in African villages (but not maths), I’d help out in wildlife conservation areas and more than likely become known as that lottery winner that loves cats and dog more than people.

So yeah, I think I could be very happy with $70 million burning a hole in my bank account.

No more public transport with sniffy, snot sounds in my ears.
No more having to get up and go to a job I hate.
No more renting for a landlord that will do anything to save a few dollars but end up spending more in the long run.
And most of all, no more worrying about money.

I’d like not to have to worry about money.

Helpdesk

I've been contracting for most of my career. I've had many contracts lasting a varied amount of time in a variety of industries, towns and countries.

I've worked for and with some amazing people that I admire and have made lasting friendships. As well as power hungry men and women who'd sacrifice their first born for a promotion.

I've gone from being a novice computer user using a VAX machine to PCs and Microsoft Word 3. I built my MS Word knowledge up to become an expert user and fell back to being a beginner when they brought in Ribbon menus.

I've had desks with a view overlooking Sydney Harbour and desks facing a corner giving me that 'I've been naughty' feeling. Hotdesks make me feel temporary and make me feel uneasy. Chairs have varied too...arms and no arms, straight back to a permanent falling off the back sensation.

I've worked with small teams and large teams. Small companies run by Ma and Pa to large multi-nationals in high rises.

I've travelled states, countries and the world for work, by trains, planes and automobiles, the latter being my favourite mode of transport.

I've met many people along the way in my career and worked with many technologies. Every single contract has been different in so many ways. These opportunities have given me so much to take away and learn from.

That said they all have one thing in common. Helpdesk has been the first additional folder in every single email program I've had, be it Outlook or Lotus Notes or that archaic green screen thing I had in VAX. The first email I've every had to keep has been a IT Helpdesk request number.

Technology. Fantastic, when it works.

Crack in the Facade

Yesterday I had an odd day.

I woke feeling rested for the first time in a couple of weeks. I showered, dressed, sorted out the fur and feathers and even caught the train I was aiming for. The sun was shining.

Not long after the train had pulled away from the platform I felt the sting of a tear in my eye. I willed it away becasue I couldn't figure out why it felt like it was needed. There were no sad movies to be seen, no songs of regret pumping through my headphones. I was listening to Sander van Doorn to continue the positive mood I was in.

The tears pricked until they spilled over and started to run down my cheeks. I descreetly wiped them away.

I looked in my bag for a tissue. Sniffing season hasn't yet started so I don't have any. Damn.

I used my sleeve. Very twelve year old.

Then the nose started to go.

The train was packed and I was sat in the fixed seat that faces another. The lady sat in the seat opposite was watching me with interest but she made no move to offer a tissue or even an encouraging smile. Our knees where touching, maybe she felt that was comfort enough.

I could feel choking coming on as we sat at a station with the door open. I jumped for my seat, over the person between me and the aisle and out onto the platform. A large suck of air, pushed the lump in my throat back down.

I walked along the platform, expecting the doors to close, but they didn't. I found a seat a couple of carriages away from where I'd started and resumed my trip into work, feeling slightly confused but more composed.

The tears started again. That reprieve had been short.

What was going on to cause this...breakdown?

I thought about Cara. I thought about my job situation, my home life, my loneliness, sickness, the things I do because I'm on my own, things I don't do because I'm on my own. The last few years in general and how I've been breathing through the stress, the pain and worry for nearly four years, with little or no physical support.

Yes, I acknowledge there have been good times in there, but I can tell you that rough and tough times FAR outweighed good.

Whilst I have regular contact with many folks online (both here and aboard), no amount of wishful thoughts, air hugs and kisses and kindly, supportive words in a message will ever make up for an actual hug and a jolly good chat over a glass of wine.

I know there are some that ask how I fit everything I do into my life. I make it fit to prevent myself doing myself harm. Yes I mean that. Given too much time to think I eventually come back to 'why bother?'

Yesterday when I broke, the doctor wanted me to go to the hospital for evalution and assitance for my nervous or mental breakdown. I managed to convince her that I wouldn't self harm and I mean it. I think it, I know there are people out there that would, but not I. When thinking about how, I come around to who'd find me, who'd have to deal with my lack of will, who have to tell what family I have left that still speaks to me (family weirdness) and ultimately who'd have to do the washing up. So it always come back to thinking of others.

I acknowledge that I need help, professional help. I also need to make lifestyle changes and I need to have someone in my life that can call me when they want too and vice versa. Someone that I can exchange hugs with. Someone that isn't going to tell me to 'get over it' and most of all I need a human in my life that isn't surprised when they see me cry and even better if they can say, 'You're beautiful', when I do.

This won't solve the problem, but it with sure as hell will make putting together IKEA shelves easier.

Stages of Grief and Loss

We can all expect to experience grief or feelings of loss for something or someone at some point in our lives. Chances are you already have. A close family member, a relationship, a job that unexpectedly left you wondering what to do next or even a favorite tool that went poof followed by the faint smell of burning rubber.

Regardless of the loss you will experience the various stages of loss and grief.

There are no rules as to how long we experience each stage, just as there are no rules how long the overall process takes. We may pass through them quickly, hours or days or it may take longer, months or years, even the rest of your life.

Just as there are no rules as to the length of time it takes, there are also no rules about the order. They may even happen all at once.

I recently have experienced a rapid transition through the first four stages, with the first three happening concurrently and the forth settling in for the duration;
• Shock and Denial
• Pain and Guilt
• Anger
• Depression

Shock and Denial comes in that moment when you realize you’ve lost someone or something.

A phone call, a hand on yours over the bed, no response to your calls, the moment you hear the poof and smell that smell.

No matter if you where expecting it or not. You’ll still feel the moment of shock or numb disbelief, that is immediately followed with a ‘No’

Shock is usually followed by Guilt and Pain. It will come in the form of self-blame. If only I’d taken more notice, if only I’d acted sooner, if only I’d taken her with me, if only I’d had it serviced…if only if only.

These losses are rarely your fault, but our nature is to blame ourselves, if only for a short time. Although these feelings can be excruciating and unbearable, it is important to resist chemical assistance, such as prescription medication, illegal drugs and certainly alcohol, despite your desire to drown your sorrows.

It will seem as if life has no way to continue at this time.

This Pain and Guilt gives way to Anger. You may lash out at those that love you, blame people for the loss that were only trying to help. Blame others, yourself or even the lost.

The doctors failed to spot the problem. If only they had started treatment earlier. If only you hadn’t stopped for that ice-cream. If someone is ‘caring’ for her when they should have taken her to the vet, if I find that person, well, I won’t be responsible…

This is a time to seek assistance from a professional, as your emotions may not control whom you lash out at, and permanent damage may be done to familial relationships or close friendships.

You may come down from Anger and going straight in Depression or you may flip-flop between guilt and anger for a while before the Depression and Loneliness hits you.

This time will be marred with the ‘I wish’ sentiment and times of reflection. I wish I could have stayed a moment longer. I wish I had told her I love her more. The bed is so big now. I wish I’d had the name and number tag made sooner.

Self-isolation is common now and it’s important you aren’t talked out of these periods by well meaning friends and family. This is an important time for you to reflect on the gravity of the loss you have experienced.

After a time, and Depression can be the longest stage, you’ll start to look forward to life again. Once again you’ll have Hope. The hope will seep into the gaps between the sad, reflective moments and you’ll find yourself thinking, ‘This will end’.

You’ll never forget but life will go on. While the new Bosh drill doesn’t have the same heft as the old one, it still drills holes and takes that labour out of screwing things together.

You’ll miss your loved one but you’ll always have the memories you shared together.

She will come home to me.

I’m currently sitting between Anger and Depression and Loneliness. Cara went missing on the 1st April during the thunder. I have done all that I can and can afford to at this time.

My friends have helped me negotiate Guilt by telling me I did nothing wrong. And the power of social media is helping me find her along with posters, letterbox drops, door knocks and tweeting.

The thought however that someone is ‘caring’ for her because she’s cute, fills me with rage, however. There is no conclusion to this part of the tale.

Grief. We all experience it at some point in our lives. Some experience early in life with the passing of a beloved pet, others are older the first time. For some it is fleeting, others it is everlasting. It won’t make you stronger but it will help you process all that life throws at you. Because as much as I joke about my Dad’s favourite saying, it’s true: We are born, we do suffer and we do die. And if we get to experience love, happiness and loss along the way we are indeed, very lucky.

Footnote: This is a speech I have written as an assignment for Toastmasters.

Notoriety

In 1968 Andy Warhol said, ‘In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes.’ This saying has now become legend and part of everybody’s dream as they grow up.

A famous doctor, movie star, chef, dog whisper, artist or writer. It may be a competition win, treatment of a special case, being so good at what you do you just happen to get your own show or, as in my case, you answer an advert because you think you might be able to do something.

A few weeks ago I responded to an advert by a Talent Agency that was looking for ‘new faces’. Why not, I thought, what have I got to lose?

Two weeks after registering I got a call, ‘Would you like to play QC in the new big law production by the RST?’

‘Yeah, why not, I can do those dates’.

Thursday was Day One. I had to take three suits and low-key jewelry and be there at 0745.

There was a bit of waiting around, then I was called into the courtroom with 20 other extras. I was front row, centre General Public. For three hours I watched a guy ‘Matt’, push his way to his seat next to ‘Bernie’, over and over again then listen to a ‘barrister’ grill the ‘bad guy’. I must have seen it 20 times, seen cameras move position, make-up refreshed, lights moved and blooper reel classics. Not once did I get bored.

Lunch was provided and it was amazing. The catering guys were culinary genius!

In the afternoon I got pulled out of General Public and put in a seat next to the ‘Barrister’ to be ‘Solicitor that leans in’

Yes…’Solicitor that leans in’!

I shall henceforth be known as iLean.

I spent the afternoon sitting in an extremely uncomfortable chair that was too tall for my short legs next to ‘Tanya’, pretending to scribe the entire scene while leaning the prop folder and notepad on my knees.

In total about eight minutes of the programme was film in over ten hours of filming. It's hard work, and people who partake of this form of employment full time make it look easy and deserve the compensations they receive.

It’s entirely possible I’ll end up on the cutting room floor. But I may, just may, get my first few minutes of fame.

Happy Birthday

Yesterday would have been Muv’s 59th birthday. We would have likely gone for a Doris in the afternoon, seeing as it was Sunday, had afternoon tea at her favourite garden centre before taking the dog for a walk.

I had afternoon tea in my garden and I did some gardening. I didn’t take my dog for a walk, she was too busy eating a chicken bit she’d dug up from the freshly turned veggie patch. Muv would have approved.

I think about Muv a lot on her birthday. It’s only natural I guess. It was the one day of the year that she truly loved and looked forward to. She didn’t like the rapidly approaching six ohh number, but she was realistic about it, and being the vibrant person she was, she laughed it off. Often I’d just tell her how old I would be next birthday, she’d roll her eyes and say, ‘stop it’. Sometimes she'd share how she felt turning that age. I remember when she turned 40.

For the last few years, since her death I have purchased sunflowers on her birthday and, using her urn as a vase, remembered her and celebrated her life with the flowers she held so dear. This year due to job and financial status, the flowers will have to wait, hopefully just a couple of weeks, but she’ll get her sunflowers. Their smiling faces looking out at me as I work and potter in the kitchen. I think I’ll plant some in the garden next spring.

What would she have though about being 59? She’d have hated it, but she’d have embraced it. Had fun with it and maybe had an extra G’n’T, becasue it was her birthday :-)

Happy Birthday Muv.

In Goolwa SA - August 2002

Beef

I brought some beef mince from the butcher this morning. I put it in the fridge as soon as I got home.

I gave some to the cats and the dog. I used the rest in a bolognese mix, Some of which I had for dinner with bread and butter.

Two of the cats have thrown it up, and I have chronic wind. I fear things don't bode well for a restful night.

Still Going

I’ve been working hard for the last few weeks, but I have failed to earn a single dollar.

I’ve completed a Funeral Celebrants course and started speaking with and visiting Funeral Directors in order to actually start performing funeral ceremonies and start earning cash. I’ve also gatecrashed a few to see how they go.

I have secured a job as a bus driver, through attendance of an open evening and two interviews, but it doesn’t start until 16th April.

I’ve been taking photographs like crazy (Jurassic Lounge, Street Fashion, comedy gigs) to try and get someone to want me to do a paid gig…naddar, nothing, zilch. I’ve raised awareness of my photography with my Facebook page. Loads of pavement pounding and conversations.

I’ve built up two Facebook pages to help build my celebrancy business and FC Images.

I’ve been to four interviews but I have yet to hear whether I’ve got the job., for any of them. Is no news good news?

I've been told I'm over qualified by Bunnings, coffee shops, cleaning firms, State Transit and a major supermarket chain.

Brock Talent Management have taken me onto their books and I’ve secured an extra gig to play either a barrister or a QC in an ABC drama. Unlikely that I’ll get paid for four to six weeks after the gig.

I’ve been trawling the internet and papers daily for job openings…private company sites, job boards, newspapers (local and national). I’ve applied for over 60 roles. Roles that fit my background exactly, roles that loosely fit, and roles completely left of centre. Each application has had a unique cover letter and CV tweak.

Tupperware now has me on the books as a Party Demonstrator. I can feel IQ points leaking from my ears at each ‘training’ session I attend, but you have to go to them.

Still not a penny inward, lots out though. At this point I’d like to thank GB and LK for helping me out with my rent.

This financial situation needs to change very soon before I become homeless, penniless and so despondent that I lose the energy and ability to continue this pursuit of employment. I’m having days and bad days.

For now though, the pursuit continues. Wish me luck!