But not with a blocked nose. Apparently, it was the Beef Rendang. Shrug. Apparently, one of the spices causes it. I thought it might have had something to do with the red wine, but then I remembered that Brian only had a pinot so I had drunk two glasses of champagne.
Then the rubbish truck came and emptied the (establishment X)’s rubbish bins at 8am and woke everybody up… and I felt cross with the world.
The idiot (establishment X) doesn’t care that their rubbish removal wakes us all up.
Idiots take dogs out in public without muzzles when their dogs are legally meant to wear them and the innocent have to pay for it.
The selfish, the careless and the stupid stumble their way through life causing pain and damage to the innocent.
If the people who were meant to do “something” actually did that “something”, the world would be a different place for many people.
Fuck the world, I thought, and I got up.
I headed outside to see how my poor damaged puppy dog was. Poor Buddy, he didn’t look as though he wanted to come out of his kennel this morning. He was tucked in right at the back, kind of behind his mattress, so I left him there.
I lit a fire and Buddy didn’t even stir as I collected the wood. The orange flames were comforting in the quiet morning air. I drank coffee. It was still and quiet. Ah life, I thought in the silence. Some people have real problems, I told myself. It didn’t help.
I watched the clock tick, tick, tick right the way around to 9am, when the vet was meant to open. I called the (name of outer suburb) vet as soon as the clock hit 9am and they said no appointment was necessary and to just come out.
I got in the shower. I could hear Sam snoring. I heard him call out as I was rubbing the towel across my back.
“What are you doing?”
“Come on, get up.”
“I’m nice and comfortable and warm.”
“Move!”
We left just before 10am. It was remarkably quiet on the roads. High Street Preston was practically deserted and not the car park it has become with whoever the do-gooder councillor is who authorised the ridiculous traffic changes and obstacles that now semi-block High Street. Talk about manufacturing traffic problems.
I gazed out of the car window as we drove out through the suburbs and wondered if it would be easier living out there. There is more space and more distance between people in the burbs. The energy seems to be gentler, maybe life would be too? There are purpose built roads and shopping centres and car parks and things in their places and places for things.
I think the inner suburbs are over. The interesting, fascinating place full of art and interesting people has ceased to exist. What the property developers haven’t destroyed by building bigger and bigger and uglier and uglier buildings – and that is because of a cart blanch allowances by the politicians who are all, essentially on the payroll of property developers – was trampled by the riff raff who have rushed to be here because somebody told them it was the latest thing.
They are not riff raff per se, just in the act of "moving in" because the inner suburbs were interesting in itself destroys that uniqueness of the place by making it popular.
It is just like the internet. Once, you’d search French Doors, for instance, and you’d get interesting information about the history of French Doors, the varieties in Romania, or some such place, the best hues of the very best wood used to make them and anecdotes about the ones used in Mary Queen of Scotts bedroom. Google French Doors today and you get a list of Bunnings that sell them.
It is essentially the same thing.
Buddy was very excited when we got to the vet. He wriggled and wriggled and wanted to say hello to everybody. He’s very popular. And everybody adored him, as is pretty much usual.
One guy sitting in the waiting room next to us, waiting for, what appeared, to be his girlfriend to come out of the surgery with their dog, looked at Buddy and said, “He’s an awesome dog,” as he got up to leave.
The strapping blond guy, who lives in our street in a share house, the one with the cute face and the hot arse, also says the same thing.
The vet shook his head when we told him the story of the dog attack. He said it was a great shame that we didn’t stand our ground as the laws are pretty clear about what happens to dogs who attack other dogs. The laws are pretty clear about what dogs must wear muzzles.
The vet said it was probably still worth going to the council as they may know who this guy was and they may be aware of his dog.
The vet said that we should have called the police. He said it was quite possible the police could have drawn their guns and shot the dog dead, I think, if the dog had a history, that is.
The vet said he can’t tolerate dogs that attack other dogs. He said if he had a dog that attacked another dog, he wouldn’t be able to get it to the clinic quick enough to put it down.
The vet said it appeared that we’d done a good job at draining the infection, squeezing the shit out of his lump and that now the antibiotics should do their job.
“Take him home, he should be looking much better in a couple of days.”
The Labrador in the waiting room with the bucket around its neck when we came out started to growl at Buddy, it seemed to get a bit antsy, a bit aggressive. The Labrador’s owner slapped him and asked him what was up and where was his displeasure coming from.
I took Buddy to the car to restore calm to the waiting room. When I came back, the Labrador was sitting quite comfortably with a Pomeranian only a few seats away.
I looked at the Labrador and then at the Pomeranian and wondered what the problem is? Do dogs find bulldog’s charisma and personality threatening? Do other dogs get jealous at how much people, in general, love bulldogs? It is a stupid notion, for sure, but that is how it appears to me. Their enthusiasm and their gregariousness’ incite negativity in lesser dogs and if you are a bulldog, essentially, all dogs are lesser. Certainly, big dogs seem to be threatened.
Now Buddy is laying in front of the fire, like a dead dog, with a sad look on his face. Poor baby, he looks like a sick puppy. He still looks a bit like a boxer who copped a right hook to the jaw, or a stroke victim. But, not to panic, he should be better in two days, said the vet.
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