Loyalty greater than death?

10 10 2013

I’m going to say it anyway.

I’m getting very strong impressions that Katie is here, and not only Katie, but my other dogs before her.

The other night I was feeling this, a strong feeling of needing to let the dog in, but of course I couldn’t, because I know that no dog is there.

Then the “Energy” changed, I realised it wasn’t Katie on the verandah, but Benny…

Katie is in her den (under the dining room table, as usual) and if I type away on my laptop while I’m in bed, I can just about expect to turn and see her there.

Looking at this sensibly, I’d say it was my mind playing tricks on me, since Katie had been here for nine years and was my, and I stress this, my *constant* companion, and for that matter, my assistance dog.

But I’m getting such a strong impression of her that I don’t know what to think, my mind is convinced she is there, and although part of me says she can’t be, I’m being told that she is.

Am I going mad?

I had another impression that my older dog, Laddie was sitting in my bedroom too.

I’m not seeing them or hearing anything, it’s sort of a dream like experience, as if a dream is layered over reality.

What I’m feeling from all of them is that they’re perfectly fine and content, it’s me who wants to let them in and out and who calls to them and is feeling frustrated, but if they are here… then what’s the
problem?

You may recall that I used to do a lot of meditation and new age stuff years back, and I remember being told that sometimes we may see our guides, and one evening, I saw this plain little ghost
who did absolutely nothing but sat on the couch for about half
and hour… I think my Dad saw it too.

It wasn’t the least bit frightening, and I examined it by putting my
hands around it, all it looked like was if you put a white shape of
a person into photoshop and reduce the opacity to about 10%…
it had no features at all, it was just a little human shaped bit of
light which just sat there.

And nor are the dogs frightening.





Jette, A new beginning.

7 10 2013

“and If you can’t be, with the one you love, Honey, Love the one you’re with” – Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.

I hope people don’t think I’m a hard arse.

Katie doesn’t even seem cold yet, and I’m getting another dog.

Yes, I’ve been here before, I’ve had a wonderful dog, who has died and it left me shattered.

When Laddie died, it bought my parents and I down, we sulked about it for weeks, Gone was our special boy, Half German Shepherd and Half Collie, The dog who could stand on concrete and bounce a tennis ball and amuse himself, The dog who would (wrongly) be allowed to go to the local park by himself, and return with gifts… a squeaky toy hammer, a babys dummy, a pair of mens red undies, a bag of garbage, an entire tree branch.

Laddie loved us as much as we loved him, and I still love him even today.

Losing that wonderful personality from our lives was gut wrenching.

I can remember my Sister being angry with us, “Oh for Gods sake, It wasn’t the bloody Queen Mother!” No, He was more special than that, He was OUR dog, He was family. But none of us said anything, and if we did, I don’t remember, I only remember the silence and how we felt.

Dad always took him for a walk in the evening, He never had a lead, but we never needed one. Laddie was as sharp as a tack and very well behaved… Well except with the dog across the road who he hated, a fight broke out twice in the park between Buddy and Laddie. I tried to separate the two once and that was a bad mistake, Laddie almost bit right through my hand, He’d bitten first, then understood later.

I remember his guilty look, I remember the blood and the pain, I remember My Dad (A huge, muscular truckie) almost passing out upon seeing all the blood, and Mum left to clean me up.

Mum was always the Nurse.

My hand swelled up like a tennis ball.

It’s what happens when you have a dog, and you just accept it… it was my mistake.

I was never quite sure whose side Laddie was on, I’d sit on Dads side of the table and tell Mum that I was pinching Dads tea, and Laddie sat there growling and showing me all his teeth… But then I’d say “Would you like some, Laddie?” and his face would change from angry to “Yes please!” as he licked his lips, only to resume growling again if Dad came into the kitchen and asked “What’s This?”

Laddie had cancer, and his frame melted away to a skeleton, He was taken to the local vet in the truck that Dad used for work, Laddie had never been in a car before, and although he was dying and in obvious pain, he was really happy.

The vet rang the next day with the worst news, which had been expected.

The Vet suggested that the best thing would be to put Laddie down, and I agreed.

I wanted to see Laddie and asked if they could please hold on and wait till I get there so I could see him one last time.

Mum had never seen me do anything like that before, I cried in her arms and she cried too.

At the time I wasn’t well and had to wait for my Dad to come back from work, I wrung my hands waiting for Dad to return, No Mobile phones back in the late 80s, at least not easily available to the likes of us who didn’t have much.

But with only a few hours to go, the vet rang again, to say Laddie had died.

I had missed him, it was awful. I had sent my best friend to the vet and he had died alone, I still feel guilty about that till this day, but there really was no way for me to get there by myself.

Coming home in the car, from anywhere,  and not having that big welcome he’d always give us was hard, and perhaps it was some relief to my parents when I bit the bullet months later, after I started to feel that perhaps we should, really get another dog.

Dad was missing the walks they went on, Mum missed the person she’d share a bit of cake with “If you die, Laddie, We won’t eat any” She’d say.

We received Laddies ashes, I think they were posted, but I’m not sure.

Months passed.

I bought home a newspaper and looked up dogs at the back, in the classifieds.

I found a listing for Alaskan Malamutes, phoned the number and soon I was telling the breeder (Loretta) about Laddie and how much we missed him. and she said, “We have a little one here called Benny”.

So Dad and I set off for Point Cook, not too far from here.

We stood in a little dish at the front door, to kill any parvo virus on our shoes and entered. There were pups everywhere, The poor mum had given birth to fifteen.

We were shown Benny, He was tiny, and fluffy,

He was a long coated Malamute. It’s considered a defect in the breed, as snow and water don’t fall off their coat, instead the coat would get soaked and if it froze, the dog could die.

For a companion, it’s not so bad, but they do need more brushing. Laddie loved being brushed more than anything, but Benny hated it, and so did Katie who was to follow, the two malamutes always told me off when I did it.

Dad loved him right from the start, I wasn’t sure, I still missed Laddie.

Loretta almost made me pick him up saying “He’s your puppy”.

While we were at the house, an Italian man and his teenage daughter turned up, I think Benny was about the last to be sold, but they were all too young to go to homes yet.

Mario, Lorettas husband, ushered Dad into a corner to do business, Dad handed over the cash and the deal was done, Benny was to be the first dog we ever paid for, they’d usually simply turn up, as Laddie had, Mums Boss found him at work.

Mario told us later “I’m Italian myself, and I can see Benny digging a den in Pappas veggie garden and that’d be that” Well as it turned out, Benny did dig a few holes, but they were generally tragic, never deep enough to bury a bone, which would be left with a sprinkle of dirt on the top.

Benny was a brilliant dog, and we loved him.

A month or so passed and we picked up Benny before Christmas, He howled all the way home, in Mums arms.

Unlike Laddie, Benny had rides in the car, Dad hated the idea of a dog in his nice clean Kingsw… oh, Sorry, Fairmont (I hope you got the reference) But Benny was welcome. Mum and I looked at each other, I’m not sure why, but Dad had softened.

So we often went to country markets at Gisbourne, Blackwood and Daylesford, where people always asked us the same questions, What breed is he?, Does he eat a lot?, Does he cope well in summer? Mum and I joked about printing up a sheet with all the answers.

While Laddie would be inside in the winter, curled up near the heater, Benny hated all heat and any trace of sunlight. He would lay on the concrete verandah in winter, or on the cold bathroom tiles, with his back legs stretched out to the back and his pads pointing upwards.

And unlike Laddie, Benny wouldn’t sleep in my room, I have no idea why, It was either my parents room or the bathroom. But he’d come in and sleep near me in the morning after his walk with Dad to get the newspaper, as unlike my parents, I was never an early riser.

Benny had a harness which had been hand made for him, it was made of leather and was lined with sheep skin, and I strongly suspect that the guy who made it, specialised in leather gear, for men, rather than for dogs… in fact it fits me perfectly.

Sometimes Benny would refuse to wear his harness and utter rude howls at us, until Mum spat the dummy and ordered him to “Get your harness on!” though sometimes that didn’t work either.

Then I’d say “Well Mum, I’ll wear this harness” and I’d begin to put it on, Benny would go quiet and give me a look like “Hey, That’s mine!”… then he’d settle and allow me to put it on him instead.

We lost Dad to cancer.

Benny was a comfort to Mum and I, and I was glad to have him with us.

Bennys legs went on him at around ten, his “wrists” were on the ground, and not held up like they should have been, and then his hips went.

One night he was crying in pain, he was actually saying “Oh No, Oh No, Oh No” over and over, it was heart breaking.

The vet was called, and there was nothing to be done for him, I held Benny close and the drug was given in our backyard, Benny was taken away in a body bag, Three of us had to carry him out, We passed by Mums bedroom… She was there crying with our neighbour, I had not expected it, I think she was trying to hide her feelings from me, perhaps because she felt that it might make me feel worse. Mum saw us and I heard her fall apart.

The bag was put into the vets boot, he was clearly upset too, offered some kind words, which I don’t remember.

I watched the car drive all the way up the street, and remember the red tail lights turning left and vanishing, I broke down.

A neighbour came over to offer some comfort.

Two weeks later, I was diagnosed with cancer.

One day the vet returned, He was a tall Indian man dressed in a suit, He handed us the box containing Bennys ashes, He offered us his condolences and sat with us for a while. I thought he was very kind to do that.

I decided that we needed another dog, and this was done fairly quickly too, I didn’t wait.  I consulted the internet, namely the Ozmals group on Yahoo (Yahoo groups were still cool at this time), I knew a breeder who’s girl was about to have pups, and several people were lined up for them… but she had one, just one.

I really wanted a male, so I hung off, I just liked boy dogs, I didn’t think a female would be as good, call me a sexist if you like… Katie was about to change my mind.

Katie had come up too, and unlike the other one, needed a home or would lose her life.

She had been begging food from staff at Pukapunyal Army Base, she would take whatever she could get and sleep in the nearby bush.

Where she had come from, nobody knew, Had she been dumped or had she escaped from a home?… there had been a horrible storm around that time, and fireworks too, she hated both.

The local vet had held her for longer than she should have, She had just put down a male who was apparently aggressive and she didn’t want to do the same to Katie who she thought was lovely and deserved a chance.

She had been driving Katie everywhere, looking for her owners, or looking for new ones, nobody wanted her.

I admit I dallied, Had I known what I know now, I would have taken Katie immediately, but it’s hard to know how a dog will be.

Someone bought Rhondas puppy, and that made the choice easy, I took Katie.

Everything was arranged and Rhonda bought Katie to us, sometimes I think Rhonda told me a fib, but if she did, I don’t mind at all.

We probably didn’t take as much care as we should have,Benny had been old and barely able to walk, but when he was young, he was as powerful as a train, or at least seemed to be.

So Katie bolted up the street and I thought that was it, nobody could catch her. but she saw a neighbour and wanted to say Hello, so thankfully she was retrieved.

Katie and I had some good long walks which I hadn’t been used to as Benny could barely manage the park, just a few doors up, as he got old and his body failed him.

About a month or so later, I had bowel surgery, and it wasn’t long after that that the radiation and chemo began.

I don’t remember much of Katie then, I was barely well enough to do much of anything.

I remember that she used to come into Mums room, and wrap herself behind the curtains, and fall asleep there.

She was a very timid dog though, she would act as if I was about to give her a belting anytime I raised my hand, she grew to understand that I wouldn’t hit her, and began to love me.

She loved her Mum, she’d spend a lot of time licking her… or perhaps she knew something then that wasn’t obvious to us, but was to her… Mum had been losing weight and getting frail.

I remember the day that my PICC line was removed, and that was a huge relief, it was always in the way, I never really had a good shower because of it, and it itched like mad where the sticky patch covered its external bits.

Although I still had the bag, on my body, and that was a nuisance.

As I recovered, Katie and I would go for nice long walks together, and it helped a lot.

Mum had had a few attacks where she almost stopped breathing, and an ambulance was called the second time.

I had found mum on her bedroom floor that morning, whacking the wardrobe with a shoe, hoping to wake me up, Katie was sitting next to her, confused and offering her paw.

The third time it happened, the ambos were too late, and Mum died.

Then it was just Katie, Vicky and I, and somehow, we coped.

Katie and I would generally go on big walks together, We’d walk to Seddon, or to the creek, which has a lovely dog park around it, sometimes I think I was online too much and should’ve been walking with her… but we did go out every day except if it was too hot or wet.

And people would stop us and ask questions, the same ones they asked us of Benny.

And in the evening I would feed Katie, which was one thing Mum suspected I’d forget to do.

She used to get doggy meatballs, an egg, and some milk.

Katie was very fond of milk.

And she’d sleep beside me every night, and I would be soothed to sleep by her breathing, and the knowledge that I wasn’t entirely alone.

Katies health declined, and I’m not sure why, She was slowing, but I could cope with that. I’d rather have an old slow dog than no dog at all.

I’m sure I’ve told you the story.

It lead to the night I dreaded most of all, She was crying, like Benny had nine years earlier, and I held my darling girl, and the drug was given, I held her to the end, until there was no life left, and wondered yet again, why I was left in witness and why I couldn’t have gone too.

Katie and I were inseparable,  and now we were forced apart, I didn’t think I could bare it.

She had meant more to me than anything, I adored her, I didn’t think I would, but I couldn’t have asked for anything to be so near perfect, I’ve been heartbroken for weeks, and lost, and wondering who I am without her.

It was always Katie and I, always.

I lost her in the car going to the vet, her eyes kind of went blank, and although she lived for two days after that, I know that she wasn’t the same afterwards.

So I sit here typing away with tears streaming down my face, some have said it’s too early, I am still grieving for Katie but know that I must try again or condemn myself to being lonely.

When I picked up Katies Ashes, The vet there said, that she doesn’t understand waiting, because there are other dogs who need a home, she said, it’s like your best friend dies and thinking that you wouldn’t find a best friend again… I’m not sure if she’s right, but I had been thinking along similar lines.

I know the drill now.

I get a dog, and maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get one who will love me, and support me, though at this time I doubt that any would be as good as Katie… but I thought highly of Laddie and Benny too.

And then, on some dark day in the future, they will have to be put down, or simply die in their sleep. I’ll be fearing that if I’m to go  first, who will take my old dog? and who will take care of them as well as I did? I don’t care about myself, to be frank, I hate being alive but fear death, or perhaps, the dying. but I would like to end all the fears I have and be forgotten, as I will be.

Jette needs a home, I need a dog.

Wolfie!





Katie and I

24 09 2013

I’m considering everything that was done for Katie.

I rarely left her, and when I did, she was always safe inside the house, and four times she went to a kennel, just for a few days
when I was either on holiday or at hospital.

Katie had good food and fresh water every day, and had a big walk each day, unless I wasn’t well or the weather was too hot or cold, or wet.

The walks helped me recover too, and am grateful to her for that.

She wanted me to buy her a soft bed, she saw them at the local shops and so I got her one.

She took sick at one point and had a big operation, which she recovered from and probably had an extra five years of life as a result.

She hurt her eyes several times, and had an operation on one, and ongoing medication on the other.

Her teeth were bad, mostly because she chewed through a fence to possibly escape from her former owners, and to escape into the neighbours yard because I was there.

Katie was with me, the day I lost Mum.

She went to a friends farm twice, and twice to the beach, she loved that.

Katie loved furries, and adored Marko and Davids suits, and wanted one of Markos paws.

She was always the first person I would consider whenever I made any plans at all, and I would always prefer to stay here with her, than go out anywhere… unless she could go too.

She was my support dog, perhaps not officially, but I couldn’t have done much without her, she was very special.

I think she was the most loyal dog I’ve ever had, if she wasn’t at my side, she was completely depressed… and that’s saying something, because the last two I had, Benny and Laddie were exceptionally loyal too.

Katie was a rescued dog, had I not taken her in, then she may have been put down in 2005, simply because she was unwanted.

But she was wanted, and she wanted me, Her companionship and love was just magic, and I’d be very lucky if I ever had that again.

I will try this last effort to keep her going, because if I don’t, I will forever wonder if it might’ve worked, and I don’t want to be looking back to this time, thinking If only I tried harder, I would have had her a bit longer.

If she survives this, and has a peaceful life here at home, if she can eat and drink, and get up and go outside when she needs to, then I will keep up her medications and continue to look after her, I am proud of her, she is an honoured member of this house, she is my family, and I will give her as much love and comfort as she needs.

But if she doesn’t respond, then I’ve decided that I will let her go.

Katherine was without a doubt, one of the greatest things that ever happened to me, and I will love her dearly, for the rest of my life.





Love comes quickly

20 02 2013

A good friend of mine was missing his dog called Zed who died fifteen years ago today.

I fully understand that, I’ve had five dogs, which were mine, as in not one of my parents dogs which lived with us, but one of mine.

Tina the Fox terrier, who I had in my childhood. Who survived being run over in front of our holiday house when I was somewhere around five or eight and she had a scar on her side for years where the hair never re-grew. I loved Tina, but didn’t connect with her as much as with the later dogs, I was only a small boy then and my feelings were still developing.

Bobby the cross… probably German Shepherd and Greyhound, Who would go roaming in the evenings and joined a pack of vicious males in the early 80s, one night he ran away and we never saw him again.

Laddie the German shepherd and Collie cross, He was the dog I really connected with, He used to sit with me while I played my records, or listened to the high energy disco show on RRR-FM in the 80s. He’d go to the park and bring back gifts. a kids squeaky rubber hammer, a pair of mens red undies, an entire bag of rubbish, and massive branches which had fallen from trees. Laddie would amuse himself by bouncing a ball on his own, He was mad for all kinds of balls, even his own.

Laddie was the last dog which we allowed to roam, although Laddie would only go to the park and come home again, I think he went out one day and didn’t come back so that caused us all to fret.

Then Benny came along, the only dog we had ever payed for. He was our beautiful Alaskan Malamute, You all know Katie of course, But Benny was our first. It took me years to love Benny as I was still loyal to, and still missing Laddie… it took a long time to really love Benny, although perhaps I did anyway and just couldn’t admit it. Oh I was proud of him, He was a beautiful dog, and he loved us madly in return. Bennys breeder is Italian and suggested feeding him pasta, which we did. Benny would get his own Spag Bol and devour it with gusto and would drag the spaghetti all over the verandah while he did so. Benny hated the heater and would sleep on the verandah all night if we’d allow it… we wouldn’t because one night, while Benny was still a pup, someone tried to steal him, but we caught them in the act.

Then Katie came alone, and of course loving her was hard too, because now I had loyalty for Benny… and still missed Laddie too. But She has been such a loving, and grateful dog, that of course she wormed her way into my heart.

Anyway I wondered, they say you always remember your first love, but perhaps we also remember our first special dog too.

But in my case, there was no human love, perhaps because I had been bullied so much during my teenage years that I could never really trust anyone my age.

I still can’t trust people that much, I adore my friends, but that part of my heart is and always will be reserved for someone with four legs, not two.

People are strange and you’re never sure where you sit with them, and I really can’t be bothered trying to figure them out.

Yes Brad, I do, really understand your grief for a dog who passed away fifteen years ago.

I think sometimes having the lifetime a human has, is quite a torture to bare.

As for love of the human variety? They say that sooner or later it happens to everyone… it’s not true.

Wolfie!





Waiting at the bus stop

26 02 2011

I’m just going to write.

For the most part I do ok, I bury myself in the internet, which I’m good at, but I do it because I’m very sad inside, and I’m continually on the search for an escape route.

I use the bus stop as a metaphor, the bus comes, people get on, and they change or they vanish, they move into a new home, or get some new exciting job, or fall in love, or die.

I never get on the bus, it comes and goes with regularity, I want to go, so badly.

When I had the cancer, I got my ticket, it wsn’t the best ticket I could have had, but at least it was a ticket… and I gave it up.

And often I ask myself why.

Having survived, which I did for Mum and Myself, but mostly for her… It was one year later that I lost her anyway, Mum and I got on so well, and being without her breaks my heart.

I did give Katie a life, without me, all she would have got was the needle, she’s had six years more, and that is something I don’t regret.

I have lost a part of my hearing, I loved music, and since this accident I have been quite depressed… music no longer tickles my ears, I have memories of music that I loved, but I mostly enjoy it in my head, sound is not nice anymore.

And now, if you’ll permit, the strange bit.

You see, this “furry” thing is quite serious with me, I took a survey on this recently and one question was “Do you feel like an animal trapped in a human body” Well yes, yes I do.

And this my friends is not somehing I felt after seeing some “weirdo” talk about their odd furry companions… this is how some people feel anyway.

I was feeling like this as far back as the 80’s, and we didn’t have internet then.

I’d like to fall in love, I would *love* to fall in love, but you understand… there’s nobody, there’s just me.

It’s like the earth coughed out another species and that was me, and there’s nobody else.

I don’t do relationships because I feel so awkward because of this, I so so desperately want to be loved, but there’s this, here, and I don’t know what to do with it.

It’s not like I see someone about it in an effort to be cured, unless homosexuals can be cured, unless transexuals can be cured.

And understand that this is not about my sexuality, this bit, it’s about my inner-being, the part which is more ME than anything else.

My heart goes out to the Gay community and so forth, because I know how it aches,
but… I don’t know how to deal with it.

What am I? Where do I fit in? Why am I stuck here like this?

The pain I have inside is just dreadful, I often feel I’m not wanted, I really try so hard to be wanted.

I want Mum and Dad back, I can’t tell you how much I miss them.

When someone gets on the bus, sometimes I’m happy for them, other times, when things go wrong, it’s awful.

Sometimes I’m just a tiny bit envious.

I’m a little scared of writing this, this is about me, not you, I know some of you are hurting too… I was once in a chat room, many years ago, talking to someone who was depressed, in much the same way I am now… the next day I found they had taken their life.

So don’t take this on board if you’re sad, I’m just having a downer, tomorrow life will go on as usual and I’ll be here.

Wolfie!





That dream.

20 02 2011

Mum was in bed, it was daylight, and she had the sheets pulled up close around her head, like she was almost hiding, only her face was showing

she looked depressed, her eyes were closed

I asked her “What’s wrong Mum?”

She replied “You don’t love me anymore”

And apart from me trying to counter her suggestion, and her not budging from her case, that was it.

It left me feeling somewhat disturbed all day.





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!