The weekend of me

I was told this weekend would be all about me. Somehow that translated into lying around the house all day on a Saturday. That sounds like it was all about you-know-who. The one that's been on the road for a month.

Dude. I'm bored.

It's sunny outside.

Why are we in here?

Well, I haven't been flouncing around the world to New York or Japan. I've only been up the street a block at ADNUS' house so lying around indoors on a sunny Saturday isn't my idea of fun.

But Mom said she had to catch up on personal stuff. Like finances. Bills and such. Electricity, gas, dog walking - that bitchy cleaning lady. The one that doesn't wash sheets or clean dishes.

But today. Today was definitely about me. First, we went to the beach. And then we went to the vet's office to get my "vaccinations" which resulted in a treat for me. Sweet. Then I went to get a haircut. I've been panting a lot since Mom got home. My fur was long and wooly like a sheep.

Baa.

On the way to the beach we did our "usual". We stopped by the Rozelle Market to get some fresh squeezed orange/carrot/ginger/apple/orange juice. Stopped by Hatch to get a decaf flat white. Then we went by Adriano Zumbo and got a macaroon.

Adriano was on Iron Chef Down Under. And he makes some wild and awesome macaroons. Beetroot & raspberry, custard crunch, chickpea lemon and caramel, blacked vanilla bean and salted peanut caramel.

All on the way to our favorite spot = Iron Cove Beach.

Mom went a little nuts with the camera today. Purple trees. I don't know what the big deal is all about, but she loves those purple trees. She gasps every time she sees one. I don't get it. They're just purple trees.

There's one right by Baliz Woof Woof. Now that's a memorable tree. Baliz Woof Woof is where Mom gets my organic "human grade" dog food. She acts all proud like she thought of it herself, but I was the one who led her to it.

She walked down that alley by herself time and time again and had never noticed the red garage door with the sign on it that said Baliz Woof Woof. Well, I won't lie - I can't read - but my nose knows.

I led her right to that sign when I smelled the liver and lamb and roo jerky beneath that door. And - true to form - she remembered and went back to check it out later.

She's good like that.

My dog eats better than I do.

She said the woman that owns the place has an eighteen-year-old dog. Well, that did it. She opened her pocket book right up. And now - as a result of this - "veggie power packs" are now part of my daily diet. The freezer is full of them. So much that nothing else fits.

Lizzy. The eighteen year old dog.

They have alfalfa, turmeric, flaxmeal, beetroot, spirulina and shiitake in them. What the fuck are alfalfa, turmeric, flaxmeal, beetroot, spirulina and shiitake?

Well, the veggie power packs are just fine with me.

As long as I'm getting some roo jerky after.

The other thing they have at Baliz?

Raw.

Chicken.

Mince.

It's to die for. I mean, seriously.

I whine when she makes it. I never whine, so you know it's good.

Now, I don't whine for the veggies, but I eat 'em. She puts them in with my kibble. Mom says that if people have to eat vegetables to keep ugly things like cancer and heart disease away, then why shouldn't dogs?

Well, I think she's just repeating what the woman at Baliz told her, but as long as those vegetable power packs come with chicken mince, I'm game.

The woman at Baliz said that back before there was kibble, animals didn't have to go to the doctor nearly as much. And, in fact, there weren't many veterinarians besides the ones that birthed your cows and horses.

But now that kibble's around (which has almost no nutrients and is just "filler"), pet medical bills are almost as high as peoples'. And Mom should know. I got my vaccinations today - took about 10 minutes - and it cost her over $200.

So now I'm being stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey with veggies.

And she's mulling over boiling sweet potatoes and chickpeas and stuff for the "filler" instead of buying that Science Diet. That sounds like a lot of effort to me, but again - if it involves raw chicken mince - I'm game.

The only bad thing about these veggies is that they're causing me to use the bathroom 10x per walk, requiring her to use 10 of those damn doggie bags she went all the way back to the States to buy. The ones she uses to pick up my fertilizer. She says people don't want to smell my fertilizer.

Why got to New York City to buy doggie bags? Well, she says the ones you buy in Australia are highway robbery. But now that I'm poo-ing 10 times per day, the cost/benefit analysis of a trip to NYC isn't working in her favor.

But the beach makes everything better. So off we go!

Are we going? Huh? Huh? Huh?

We took the tennis ball I stole - the one I love - and I fetched and fetched and fetched.

There was another dog there - a spotted one. He was a tad rambunctious.

Now, I don't take shit from other dogs. This is something people don't know about me. People are always sayin', "She's so good. She's just perfect. Does she ever do anything wrong?" Well, you just try to jump on me or take my stick and you'll get a world of hurt. Mom doesn't call me Cuj-rose for nothing (sound it out, people - Cujo). When I bear these white teeth against this black coat, it'll scare you alright. I do not like you taking my stick. I do not like you jumping on me.

This dog is asking for it.

Get.

Outta.

My grill.

He even tried to trounce the cute little 5-month old puppy dog that came to play.

Poor little puppy hiding under mommy's legs.

His owner didn't have any control over him. He was "European" and apparently Europeans are "laissez-faire". He kept saying, "Ici."

"Ici."

Faintly.

Barely.

Doesn't he know that damn dog's Australian? He doesn't speak French.

And say it with some authority, damn it.

Mom had another encounter today over me. I get her in trouble sometimes. Like when I clip you with my leash. Or when I jump up on you when I can smell treaties in your pocket. Mom always apologizes profusely. But most of the time people giggle. They think I'm cute. But I'm really just rude and hungry*.

I know I'm not allowed in your store. But I'm cute. And I smell you have bacon.

Today I was taking my 10th poo. I'd run ahead of Mom so I could have some privacy. My tummy hurt. That damn veggie power pack.

A guy with his dog came over to Mom and said, "I hope you're going to pick that up."

She looked over at me. And she said, "Oh, that's her 10th poo. It's all water."

Then he said, "Let's hope so."

And Mom said, "Well, I could rub your nose in it if you like?"

Well, that did the job. The nosy bastard. Mom's always makin' friends at the dog park.

After the beach we went to the groomers. I hate the groomers. I absolutely hate a hair cut. But I need one. I look like a wooly mammouth.

And I pant like one too. Mom had to run the fan all night to make sure I wasn't hot. I sat right in front of it and let it hit me in the face. I love the fan.

But now I have a fresh cut. And I'm looking like a petite lil' girl again. People will stop calling me "he" for about 3 weeks. Before my hair gets long again and I don't look quite so dainty.

My ear says hi.

It's nice havin' her home, Mom. She's been traveling quite a bit lately. She says it's going to get better over time. As soon as she hires some people in China and India and stuff. But it's OK. I got to spend some quality time with my Uncle Sid & Aunt Disha. And see Helmut and John. They are like family. And they live on the same street.

We went to have dinner with Helmut and John tonight. ADNUS were even there. It was rad.

I got fed me from the table. Mom gave me some shrimp ("prawns", they keep correcting her). Uncle Sid gave me chicken. John gave me some olive bread. And Helmut gave me some mushrooms. I was in puppy heaven (now, THAT'S all about me).

One of my best puppy friends, Tybalt, went to heaven today. It made me and Mom sad. We thought about Uncle Rob and Aunt Alison and Yoshi Puppy all day - and sent them our love from Oz.

Hearing about Tybalt made Mom reflective. She asked the vet how long I could live for. And he said 12 to 16. But she didn't like that answer. She leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Eighteen."

I heard her.

-Dedicated to Tybalt and my Uncle Rob and Aunt Alison. RIP, dear friend.-

* I'm always hungry.