I Need To Slap Myself, Quite Frankly

I was awake at 9.04. I had weird dreams again.   I had weird dreams again, something about apple cakes and string and slippery surfaces, which we were always slipping over on. I think everything was covered in plastic. There were shadows and satin slippers and quinces, and wanting to paint the world quince yellow.  The world was going to be a much better place if it were painted yellow and we all were fed apple cakes.   When I woke at 4am and stumbled into the bathroom to have a piss, I remember thinking, Wow! Where the hell did that come from?

I lay awake for some time, at 9.04, trying to make myself get out of bed. I was trying to fight off the general boredom that I am feeling with life, at the moment. Bed was nice and safe and warm and where I contemplated staying for quite a while. There is a kind of restlessness that I am feeling lately, a dissatisfaction. I am even feeling bored with my days off. I don’t know where that came from, but it has been with me for a while. Nothing really seems to be pleasing me right at the moment, working, not working. Except Sam and being curled up on the couch with him at night. It is as though, I just have to give myself a good shake… shrug… yawn… Haven’t I done this all before? … Grrr! …I can’t think of one inspiring thing… life feels like it is forming smaller and smaller circles… just sit and be bored, that article said recently, to find inspiration… don’t try and fill the micro boredoms, just feel them… don’t want, feel… don’t get busy, be still… and, I know, it is true there are people in the world who have real problems… but…

I need to give myself a good slap. Actually, life is great.

So why the disconnect? Shrug.

It is a lovely sunny day. The sun is shining, the sky is blue. I love the sky at this time of year… the sun… the light. It is clear and crystal and bright and pure and lovely, at the same time mellow and gentle and easy.

I washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. My head spun at the mess; dishes in the sink, a nightly occurrence. The morning pulsed, the surfaces were cluttered, I felt like going straight back to bed. But, it is my job, as Sam cooks, I clean up the mess.

I cleaned everything up as my coffee brewed. It is funny how my initial reaction was, “oh no, I soooo don’t want to.” Body shake. Hands slapping the air in disgust. And then, five minutes later, on went the taps and then not long after that, I had a pristine kitchen. Lovely.

I took the rubbish out to the bins kind of in instalments in separate bags, as I contemplated not cleaning up and then after I started cleaning. You know when you don't want to do something, but you know you must and you start doing little bits as you talk yourself into it. Bit by bit, like little red toot, I think I can and all that. It was nice heading out into the sun at least. the day was gorgeous  the air was just fine. 

I headed out to the back yard and picked up Buddy’s pooh, you know as long as you keep on top of it. I only thought of that at the last minute. The rubbish collection is today. It is a good thing that the rubbish collection doesn’t happen until late morning, now a days, I thought, as I dropped the plastic bag of pooh into the bin. I said good morning to one of the nuns from the Sisters of Charity, as I stood in the sun enjoying its warmth, as she passed by in her whiter than white robe with it’s navy blue trim, as I was contemplating life. I seem to be doing a constant contemplation of life. But, eyes half closed facing the warm honey-like sun, what is there not to like. How can you not wonder “what am I doing with my life” when the honesty of the sun is falling upon you?

Why do people want to ban plastic supermarket bags, I wondered. I recycle all of mine. I always use them again, for many uses, I never just throw them out. Surely, there aren’t so many products that are recycled in quite the same way? If they are not biodegradable when they finally make it to landfill, then that is what needs to be done, not banning them, that is just stupid.

I text Jill about the dog park around 10.am, as I headed out the door. I said I’d be there 10’ish. What did it mater, Jill is late to everything, so 10’ish was near enough.

We were on a roll, two mornings out of two, we might as well try for the trifecta.

Just as I was getting to the park around 10.15, Jill called to say she was sorry but she couldn’t come to the dog park as she was going for her walk. Her walk? What did she think we were trying to do for the last two days even if we hadn’t been so successful? I hope she is going for more than one walk a week. At her size, she should be going for a walk every day. Twice a day.


As Buddy and I walked through the dog park gate, I noticed there were two women in the middle of the oval with a Malamute. I started to walk around the perimeter of the park, as Buddy pissed on the fence, expecting him to follow me to do his usual once around the perimeter of the park as he always does when he first gets there.  But no, he spotted the malamute and headed straight to it. And what do you know, the malamute growled, bared its teeth and became aggressive and got really snarly, by the time I got to them.

Okay, I know what you are going to say. What is the common denominator here? Buddy. Bulldogs have no fear, it is true. They will barrel in where angels fear to tread. Absolutely. They will bounce up to any dog with no fear at all, sure, it is a bulldog characteristic. They will just charge up to any dog, they won’t  tread lightly. They are bulldozers.

But, they are also one of the most unaggressive dogs. They are enthusiastic and boisterous, but they are no aggressive or vicious. Buddy has never even snapped at another dog in his life. They are very confident in their own bulldoggyness. They don’t ever have to bare their teeth or snap at another dogs, they just don’t do that. He always looks a little surprised when a dog snaps at him.

(Ed note – display model may vary slightly from other models. I can’t speak for all bulldogs, I am speaking generally, of course)

“He's never done that before,” said the Malamute owner.

OMG! I wanted to scream at her. You cannot be serious! “I suggest you put your dog on a lead,” I said.

“We're trying to but your dog keeps coming back to him.”

So again, it seems to be Buddy's fault? Is that what she is saying? It is funny – well, it would be if it wasn’t so sad – that the common theme here is that it is never the aggressive dog's fault.

“Maybe so, but he is not the one baring his teeth and being aggressive.”

I took Buddy away on his lead.

I heard the Malamute owner saying behind me, “Where did that come from?” I looked back to see her holding the Malamute by the muzzle and she was wagging her finger at it. “What was that all about?”

I’m sure she was saying it for my benefit. Again, it is very simple, take your Malamute home lady and don't bring it back. Or, bring it back, but put a muzzle on it.

Buddy is my very sweet boy, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. I have to protect him and keep him safe and look after him and make sure nothing terrible happens to him. That is a part of my role as his owner, I know that.

But, I guess, that is true of all things in life. You have to watch out for the things that are precious to you.