The most photographed.

31 01 2012

I was given my first camera by Mum, it was a polaroid which shot eight photos, in black and white.

“Now don’t go clicking on everything” she said with that snapping tone in her voice, like she was about to give me a clip around the ear “save it for something special”.

So much for creativity.

I’ve been here before in other blog posts.

But this is about my dogs, I have had five dogs to my name over the years, Beginning with Tina, a fox terrier, Tina had the knack of photo-bombing down petty well and appeared in about five photos that she wasn’t really supposed to be included in.

There was a gap, and then when I was a teenager, asked Mum why we didn’t have a dog.

Well, Mums boss found some puppies and had been caring for them, She asked us to come over to her place one night, and that’s how we got Bobby… Who seemed to be partially German shepherd and Greyhound.

I think He stayed with us for about four years, but he was a randy bugger and tore off one night, He’d do this fairly regularly, but one night he never returned… We were’nt as careful with our animals in those days.

The strange thing is there are no photos of Bobby, none!

Then Laddie turned up, part German Shepherd and part Collie, He grew up to be very clever, very loyal and gave as much love as we gave him.

We have some instamatic pictures of him, a couple of very nice ones, but you can’t expect much from 110 film.

Then Benny came along, our first Malamute, and the only dog our family had ever bought.

Benny was wonderful.

Because I was starting to get into cameras at that stage, there’s quite a few shots of him in various formats, Instamatic, Realist 3D and very low res digital from an early Canon camera.

I got my first Camcorder at the time too, so he’s one of the rare dogs to be captured on video.

But I should have had a lot more digital photos of him, and I didn’t realise why until I realised that I had been stuck in a mind frame where we simply didn’t take many photos because film was costly… the film was gone (except for the 3D camera, and video for the camcorder) but the idea of reserving shots for a particular day remained.

I think what killed that line of thought was meeting @Wolfcat on Twitter, who took thousands of photos on a weekend trip.

I began to realise that I had heaps of storage, why shouldn’t I take more photos now?

People who know me, know that I love my pets, I adore them… so it comes as a bit of a shock to look through old photos and not find anything of some of them.

This had to change.

Along came Katie, and I was determined to take as many photos of her as possible.

I have photos and video of her from Pentax *ist DSLR, Sony HDV Camcorder, iPhone 3gs and Canon 550D… and although the plan was to get deeper into photography, and perhaps get work from it, I think if I’m honest with myself, I just wanted clearer photos of Katie.

So perhaps when I’m 90 (oh please no), I can look back and see photos of my beautiful girl.

I’ll end with a sad thought, in all honesty, Katie is the last… I hope my heart gives out when hers does, I really couldn’t take being without her… someone else can have the photos.

Photos of Katie, Here.

Wolfie!

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Bread

4 10 2011

I have a problem with Baker’s Delight bread, Not that there’s anything wrong with it, I find it perfectly tasty and buy it every week.

No, My problem, is with, or rather “begins” with, That freebie card that they stamp when I buy things.

And the fault is entirely mine.

This is what happened today.

I asked for two High GI Loaves, and had them sliced.

Then I noticed that I had a free bread on my card, and showed the girl, but she said that I had to spend at least another $1.60 to get the free loaf.

This was fine because as some of you know, I just bought one of those sandwich makers, and if you own one, you’ll know that you can go through bread at an amazing rate.

So I asked for a half-sized, plain white loaf with poppy seeds, which was enough to allow me to have my free loaf.

I also noticed that there were two danishes there, so I got those too.

I took my stuff outside where Katie (My Malamute) was waiting patiently, tied up safely to the hydrant, minding my stuff which I’d just bought from Coles.

I packed everything up and went home.

When I unpacked, I realised that the small loaf was not there.

And that’s it, right there.

Whenever I get a free loaf, something happens to it… I usually leave it on the counter, if not at Baker’s Delight, then the counter at Antipasto… a cafe and deli, just a few doors down.

If I don’t lose the bread, then it gets squashed or some other weird thing will occur.

Today was unusual in that I’d lost an item I had payed for.

I could’ve thrown a tanty when I realised what had happened, but no, it’s normal… I just shrugged and got on with life.

Despite the fact that this happens almost every-time, It’s just typical of me,
and I suppose I just have to laugh.

Perhaps I should give up using those stamp card things?

Wolfie!





Woofer

7 03 2011

I’ve had an idea for an iPhone app (or an app for any other smartphone).

And this one is designed for worried pet owners who have lost a lovely furry person and wish to get them back fast.

Now I can’t program and I don’t know anyone who does, I have ideas, and that’s basically it, if you create this ap then I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I’ve helped make things better, and that’s nice… so here’s the idea.

When someone loses a dog, for example, often what they’ll do is create a notice that their dog has been lost, along with a photo and information on how to contact the owner, now although this is a good thing to do, it’s time consuming and could take a full day before the notices are taped to posts in the street.

What we need is an app, where as soon as your dog has vanished, you can drop in a photo from your phone, there’s probably heaps there already, add the information and send it to your Woofer account, then what the app does is send an alert to other Woofer users that there is a fretting owner *nearby* There’s not much point getting alerts from New York if you live in Melbourne, Australia.

You see, Woofer would work a lot like Grindr, which is GPS based, so only the users within say, ten kilometers of you, would get the message.

If someone does see your dog, then all they need to do is tap on your contact icon and send a message, and a possibly a photo.

The owner would then get a message from the finder, and the app would generate a map on how to get there as quickly as possible from where you are right now.

Get the drift?

Wolfie!





Meeting an Enigma

28 02 2011

Today I met @I_Enigma from twitter in “Real Life” (Hate that term).

We met at a cafe in Seddon, called Le Chein (The Dog), which was appropriate because I had Katie with me.

It was just a little bit wet and although we had cover, I was copping a little bit of fine rain, but it wasn’t enough to put me off.

Now I won’t use her real name because I don’t have approval to do that, so Ms Enigma and I sat and chatted about country life, (She comes from Marysville) and
food and just general stuff, and of course Katie, Who approved of Ms Enigma quite a lot.

To be honest, I didn’t feel hungry, and decided to just have a coffee and not have food with it, I’m a night owl, and I’d only had breakfast a mere two hours earlier.

Ms Enigma decided to have a poached chicken salad, which did look great… So after seeing hers, I ordered one too.

Katie naturally had a few bits of chicken.

After we’d had lunch we walked to the corner and started a chat with the woman who runs Diamond Dog, a secondhand shop which the Hipsters seem to love, and we chatted about dogs and their habits, and Katie, of course.

She had an old powder blue typewiter inside, the “portable” type, so if anyone is looking for a typewriter, there is one there, just looking for someone to love it.

Then I bought a Marysville Cookbook, which were put together to raise money to restore Marysville after those terrible fires we had in Victoria, I had been considering getting one for a while, but this gave me more of a reason, it’s not everyday that you get to meet the author.

And though there was drizzle, we decided to walk to the local nursery, and while Ms Enigma liked the idea of plants and herbs, she told me that she couldn’t have them because of all the rabbits around her area, My sympathies, I have the same problem with snails, they won’t touch my feral lawn, but they love any special plant which tries and often fails to grow… baby sunflowers get gnawed to the soil at any sign of rain, I’ve given up.

Anyway, it was a nice change, I enjoyed my day, and so did Katie, Who is flat out asleep now.

Ms Enigma is another user of the internet who I’ve met and liked spending some of my time with, I can honestly say that I haven’t met anyone online who didn’t turn out to be nice in “Real Life”.

Maybe I’m just a good judge of character?

Wolfie!

If you’d like more info on the Marysville Cookbook, you can read about it here.

ps- Why do I hate the term “Real Life”? Because the internet is “Real Life” too, it’s not a fantasy land, it’s just an overblown version of the phone system. and I can prove it’s real life too… E-mail your boss and tell him/her where they can jam it, then turn up for work and see how far you get.





My Short Fuse

12 02 2011

The PE teacher at high-school, who I almost bit on the ankle once, said that if we should ever feel angry, we should beat up our pillows… I was against that, for one thing, I’m a passive sort of fellow who rarely go angry… I think it’s because I’m large. You never see Clydesdale horses who are pissed off, they’re calm and together, while Shetlands bite. It’s the same with Dogs… Nine times out of ten it’s the little dog who’s full of agro, while your larger dog couldn’t care less.

And I am passive… oh you noticed that bit about taking a chunk out of the PE teachers ankle, eh? well yes, there was that, In the 80s Physical Education was a bit like boot camp, do this, do that, twenty pushups from you for doing the wrong thing… it was supposed to cultivate respect, or something… But I just thought he was a prick.

One day I was made to do these pushups for some crap I had apparently done, and he was standing, right there, within easy reach, and I was tempted, oh so sorely tempted to sink my teeth into his ankle, seriously too, drawing blood and all.

I was mostly angry with him, I hated sports and PE, and I hated wasting my time with it when I could’ve been laying around in the library, absorbing a book on inventions.

I stopped bringing my uniform, and kept saying “I forgot it, sir” which really meant “I didn’t bring it, you skinny cunt, I don’t want to join in”.

Once he bought me a huge pair of shorts, which would have fitted Dumbo, and asked me to put them on… I was torn between wearing them and having the balls to say that I wouldn’t… but years later realised what I shoud’ve done was streak naked through the high-school, who’s main building seperated each classroom with massive sheets of glass, making sure that everyone would’ve got a good view… and I would’ve been expelled, a good job too, I hated the place something fierce.

Sometimes I think that I am an angry person, that deep inside something is bubbling away like a sleeping volcano that may erupt.

I have no tolerance for religion anymore, it’s something that got in my way, stunted my views, tripped me up, blocked my path and basically made life difficult.

When I aired my views to my dear but brainwashed Mum, She yelled out “You’re a Heathen, Just like your Father”, What could a kid do? Although there were times that Mum raised her own doubts.

Dad used to say that he thought the Bible was “A big fish story”.

I highly suspect the reason I was packed off to Sunday School when I could have spent the day resting, was Mum was having problems with my emerging sexuality, and wanted to put the fear of God into me… not that the sunday school people were like that, they were pretty nice people, Not the fire and brimstone type.

Or it was to do with My Cousin who was going through relationship problems, so they’d send all the kids to sunday school to give them a free hours woman to woman chat.

There was a touch of tradition there too, Mum and my Sister had attended, and Mum had a family background with the Salvos and their band.

The first time I saw cancer, it was with Laddie, my very special collie x shepherd, who was my right arm, rather like Katie is today, it was always Laddie and I who did things together.

Laddie taught me responsibility.

Then the cancer came along, and he literally mented like an ice-cream in the sun, I prayed and prayed for him, but nothing could be done, and in the end he died at the vets surgery, just an hour before he got the needle.

I saw a tumour grow in Timothy, a lovely cat, this ball grew inside him at frightening speed, and there was nothing I could do about it, He was put down too.

The next was Dad, who writhed in pain in bed, he had tubes hanging out of him, and there was this smell, it’s always the same smell, like rotting wood, I know what cancer smells like now, I’m too familiar with it, it lingers in the room.

Dad would rush to the toilet and cry out in pain as he tried to move his bowels, there was a mess on his hands, on the walls, a pervasive odour of urine in stained Pyjamas. Dad was a giant, full of brawn and it whittled him down to this, there were prayers again, not that any of them did any good.

Benny, My lovely Malamute, which Dad gave to me after Laddie passed on, was out gentle giant, a loving being who adored everyone, including cats, especially cats, but never other dogs, even females. He taught me how to be open, and be myself, and not worry what others thought, Benny was the escense of Wolfie, had it not been for him, I would never have come this far. He could really let rip with his deep howls, which were useful as Mum lost most of her hearing in the weaving mills years before, She couldn’t always hear the phone ring, but Benny could, and it would get him howling… “What did the phone say?” We’d ask him, and he’d howl in reply… Visitors loved the show, and Benny was always very keen to show off to people.

Benny got cancer, and I prayed, I prayed a lot, but he withered away until eventually his back legs couldn’t hold him, he cried as the vet examined him in our Bathroom, He couldn’t move. His cries sounded like “Oh No!, Oh No!, Oh No!” It was like someone was mourning a child who had just been run over by a train, the sound stabbed me like a knife.

He was given the “green needle” and off he went, we carried him off in a bag.

There was myself, who I’ve written about before, so we’ll skip this.

Then I smelt that smell in Mums Room, That same musty odour, and I told her it was there, I knew that one of us had it, or the carpet was damp, I hoped for the latter, but it wasn’t long before Mum passed on.

Then the phone went one night and it was my Sister, She had Ovarian Cancer… She fought it for over a year, and I really thought she was gaining th upper hand, but she didn’t. Three lots of chemo I think she had, three lots?
I could barely handly one lot… I didn’t think She was as strong as that, and was amazed with her fight, but it was a fight that she lost, and she was cremated last September.

So don’t talk to me about how great your God is, how merciful, and how wonderful he is, there was no help from above. If God was so great, then why did we get cancer in the first place? why were we all forced to suffer? why was I allowed to remain alive even though all my family are dead?

Religion is my trigger now, it sets me off quicker than anything.

I despise it.

God botherers on twitter get a mouthful of abuse if they try to suggest that as an athiest, I’m wrong, I’m not wrong, I know from painful experience that I’m not wrong.

I hate being angry, I really do… there was a time that I was more tolerant, but I can’t be now.

In my opinion, religion has held back science to such a degree that had it been allowed, then perhaps medicine may have been decades ahead of itself, and perhaps there would have already been a cure, perhaps… my family would have still been alive.

I seethe with rage everytime some nut says that “Evolution is just a theory”.

Personally I think Science ought to be using a new word, call it a “fact” instead, get rid of that stupid word, why is science so precious about it anyway, If the whole of Australia suddenly feels that what we used to call biscuits are actually Cookies (Because as you know, The Americans are ALWAYS right, and as a second class country, we’re just not as good as them, they just know better) Then “Theory” can be changed to “FACT.

Science can do this, because unlike some people, we have that flexibility.

So I fight religion now, each and everytime I come up against it, I blog on athiesm, I retweet stories about how catholic priests rape kids and treat Homosexuals poorly, claiming they spread AIDS while simultaniously banning condoms, I post scientific literature on Facebook and discuss it in science forums, I add my voice to the many who are waking up from history and seeing the logical truth which we can clearly see in our age.

Religion is dying, allow it to die, it’s a sad relic of our tribal history.

So please forgive my little explosions on twitter and other places, I really hate being angry, but these days I am just a little more bitter than I’ve been before.

Wolfie!





Rosie’s Saturday

17 10 2010

Today I went shopping, or yesterday, as it’s just after 1am here now, and I came home and fed Rosie who was calling me desperately for food.

I fed her and then walked Katie.

I left the cage open so that she could get out, but she didn’t budge,
and after a few hours I pulled her out and let her play in the garden.

Sometime later I decided to have a shower.

Then got into my PJs even though it was still fairly light outside, but I thought I wasn’t going out anymore so I might as well settle.

Then I went out for Rosie, and saw David, my neighbour, telling me that he’d been ringing me for an hour but couldn’t reach me, I told him I was
having a log shower.

Rosie had been on his fence, which was a worry because of his cats who are nastier than Vicky.

But she had since vanished, and although I called her, she didn’t appear
as she usually does.

But Rat Dog, on the other side was barking his head off.

I ran inside and pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, and went out, it was freezing and there was drizzle, after my nice shower, this wasn’t what
I had expected to be doing.

I went next door and the kid who lives there let me in and out to his backyard, where they have a bungalow, and rat dog was barking at something on the roof. now I didn’t see anything up there, but while I was poking around, we heard Rosie whistle.

We thought it was from my side, so I went back and called her.

David pointed, she was indeed up on the roof where rat dog was barking,
she was strutting around and flapping her wings in the breeze.

It was rainy and windy and here’s the little stinker getting around on
the top of the roof, coming over to look at me when I called her.

I tried to get her down using Davids huge window cleaning pole, which
worked when she was high in the elm tree, but she just walked back from it this time.

I was a bit annoyed, but I knew that she was just testing out her wings,
but was scared that the cats could get her as she’s still not big enough
to scare them off, and she’s a bit too trusting… she runs under Katies
legs quite happily.

Katie wasn’t sure if she should eat Rosie or not at first, but now it’s
just another animal in the yard and Katie is gentle with her.

I went inside and had a cup of tea.

Then I went out and called again, getting a bit wet from the drizzle,
but all she did was come closer and watch me, not sure if she should
jump or not and waving her wings.

I sat in the kitchen feeling a bit grumpy and cursing as I drank the tea, Katie sat under the table, helping me to eat muesli biscuits.

Then I went out again.

Rosie had had enough and tried to take off, she flew towards the neighbours sloping roof, but didn’t realise it was slippery, so
down she went like a kid at a park, and fell/flew into my grapevine
before finding a bit of fence to sit on.

I walked over to her, picked her up and shoved her back into her cage.

I can see this happening more often as it goes, we had the same troubles
with “yucky” who was our last magpie.

I do want Rosie to fly off and be a wild bird, but I hope that she still
wants to be around… I just hope I can get her over this awkward stage.

Wolfie!