Brun

This morning, I was reading about Pauline Hanson and the shit and lies that fall out of her ugly mouth so easily,

and a photo of Brun came up on my wall paper on my laptop, 

with that gorgeous face making eye contact as he always did,

like he was saying, don't bother with trash like her, there are still good things in the world,

and I just couldn't believe the self-serving ugliness that is Pauline Hanson can continue in the world,

when something as pure and good and sweet as Brun has left it,

and I started to cry all over again for what I have lost.

The wind blew outside.

Hey Tom

I've been back reading my old blog posts from 2004. I've been reading emails from my beloved mate, Tom. I could hear his voice as clear as day, it was like he was still here and, you know, I think I forgot just for a moment that he isn't.

I guess, I am just feeling sad at the moment, and kind of vulnerable, fragile, death makes you fragile, but Tom it was nice to spend some time with you buddy. I wish with every fibre of my being that you were still here. My smart, funny, irreverent mate with the same black sense of humour.

Tears in my eyes now, I have to stop.

I'm pretty sure I have a lot more Tom emails, that I can pull together. We used to write emails to each other every day. I reckon I'm just going to do exactly that. We were going to write about the adventures that we got up to, but he died before we did, and without him...

Tom and Brun, I miss you both.

Never see them again, you know, that's the hard bit to accept.

And generating AI images of Tom, I know this sounds dumb, but it kind of brings him back, just a little.

Morons

someone from HR

I can't stand morons. I have so little patience for them. I just can't make allowances for them, I just can't. I'm eventually, not kind to them, well, I ignore them. I eventually treat them badly, as if they are not there, it is true. I know I should be a better person, but I'm just not. They should just be... well, chuckle, ah, smile, I don't know. Kept away from me, I guess, is the best I can say.

New Work Mantra

My new work mantra, (keep your mouth shut, keep it to yourself) fuck it, who cares.

 

When Otto Was A Puppy

 

Look at that beautiful face. I can't believe he is dead.

Whats The Point?

4am. I wake up and I can't get back to sleep.

I get up, because I can't just lie in bed.

Oh, what's the fucken point? I think, as I think about what to do.

You have things that you love, which is the point of life, and they die, that's the reality of life.

My beautiful boy.

Brun

 

Some 10 hours after my last post, where my two bulldogs were keeping me company as I worked like it was just going to be another normal day, my perfectly healthy bulldog, Brun,  became sick, unexpectedly. 

At 1am we took him to the dog hospital.

1.10am. The vet asked us to give permission to do CPR. Brun's heart had stopped.

1.20am. They stopped CPR.

1.30am. We were saying good bye to him.

Our lovely, smart, sweet, chilled, beautiful boy was 7 years old.

He knew how to communicate with us, he had no trouble telling us what he wanted, we used to say he understood English. He was the only one of the bulldogs who knew how to push doors open to get places.

Presently, we ache. It doesn't feel real.

Everything feels just a bit pointless right at the moment.