Sunday, 12 May 2019

One-Hip Wonder.

When I published this post, Thank You, Penny. , my son, Tristan, was deeply moved by the story of Penny's love of life and the pure, innocent love she willingly shared.  However, my son mentioned to me that I'd overlooked one very notable time in her life.

Penny was only about two to three months old.  A little puppy who loved to go on walking adventures.  One evening, we realised that something was terribly wrong with her ability to walk.  She was limping very badly.

The next day, we took Penny to the vets.  He did an x-ray on her rear left leg.  To the utter astonishment of Tristan and I, the x-ray revealed that she had shattered bone fragments down the entire leg.  It was amazing she could even walk.  She must of been in an awful amount of pain. The vet explained that small dogs, such as a Jack Russell, can be prone to degenerative bone disease.

The vet cancelled his lunch and operated on her immediately.  The bone fragments and the hip bone in her left back leg were removed.  We were informed that muscle would replace the hip bone.  We were told that after a few months, we'd hardly even realise that she had her hip bone removed.  That was mostly true, but sometimes, she would have a slight limp. 

The vet placed her hip bone in a small container which Tristan has kept as a reflective keepsake.    

And thus, as Tristan said to me recently, "Penny was a one-hip wonder."  In the above video, you can notice her slight limp.

I shall be returning soon with what I believe will be the most powerful and spiritual post I ever wrote.

Thank you.  In peace, Gary. 

Tuesday, 12 March 2019

Breaking Through The Blogger Burnout.

My friend, yes I know, my blog over the last couple of years has been bordering on non-existent.  My lack of writing and interaction with you has been a most frustrating time.

These have been challenging moments.  I'm still struggling to cope with the loss of our beloved Penny.  Just like my son, I do my utmost to focus on all the positive love she brought to our lives.  Thus, between the tears shed, I rejoice in knowing how blessed we both were.  Blessed in having her share the pureness of her unconditional love. 

I shall endeavour to return soon.  Thank you, my friend. 
July 18, 2006. My son, Tristan at 17 and Penny at 5 years old. Treasured, loving memories of a magical past embraced.

Sunday, 13 January 2019

Moving Along The Pathway.

Last year was a memorable year with so many emotional extremes. So much so that I'm still finding it difficult to formulate a tangible post.

Yet, as I move along the pathway that is life, I focus on all the positive moments that inspired me in 2018.  I shall resonate with the pure love that Penny bestowed upon me.  Her gift, a  precious gift to be cherished.  A gift that I will learn from.

Before me, the pathway of life in 2019.  I shall embrace the year ahead with a renewed vigour.  Any pothole along the way shall be considered an opportunity.  The opportunity of transforming what might appear to be a negative into a triumphant positive.  I shall stumble a bit and move on.

I truly hope that 2019 will be a wondrous year for you and your loved ones.

Saturday, 22 December 2018

The Wee Folks Christmas Dedication, 2018.

Greetings, friend.  This is Geoffrey the garden gnome.  The husband of Fidelina, the beautiful fairy princess and proud father of our boy child, Einahalk.
Our beloved boy child, Einahalk.
Fidelina, the beautiful fairy princess. 

And now, my friend, we shall soon be feeling the dawning of Christmas Day, 2018.  This year, the wee folks dedicate our post to our loving, caring friend, Penny the Jack Russell dog.  Penny crossed over the Rainbow Bridge.  And yet, she is still very much here with us.  She embraced and will forever embrace the ideals so close to our hearts.

The ideals of unconditional, non-judgemental love.  The ideals that immerse our souls.  Of cradling and rejoicing in the diversity of an all different, all equal world.  Yes, Penny is still amongst us.  She gently continues to show her magical presence to her human brother, Tristan and her human dad, Gary.  Her love, like our love, an inspiration to truly make your world, our world, a better place, intertwined with hope. 

Penny, a dog who never lost sight of her inner puppy and you must never lose sight of your inner child.

We are tuned in and listen very carefully to nature's orchestra.  A natural balance that we respect. 
Oh how we recall our gathering in the snow in our enchanted garden of yesteryear. 
Penny watched over the proceedings.  Ever on the alert in her desire to make sure we had a peaceful time. 
And way back when.  Way back before Fidelina and I had our boy child, we used to snuggle up with Penny.  Ah, such contentment in a loving environment. 

On behalf of Penny, we dedicate this post to you.  A peaceful, positive and hopeful Christmas.

Red Heart on Google Android 9.0

Tuesday, 27 November 2018

Thank You, Penny.

It was mid-November in the year 2000.  I was about to take my son, Tristan, to a surprise, mystery location.  He was intrigued as we made the short journey to a house on the other side of town.  Upon entering the house, we were ushered into the living room.  A living room full of people Tristan had never met before.

The lady of the house entered the living room.  "Hello, you must be Tristan.  Please come this way", she said.  Tristan and I walked up the stairs.  The sounds of one month old little puppies could be clearly heard through a closed bedroom door.  "Buzzin'!", Tristan said, with all the boundless enthusiasm of a twelve year old boy.

The door was gently opened.  Before us, a wonder to behold.  Several Parsons Jack Russell pups were frolicking along the bedroom floor.  "Tristan, you can choose one of the puppies", I stated, with a huge smile on my face.  For I knew how much my son loved dogs.  Now was his chance to have a one of those little puppies become a huge part of his life, of my life.

Tristan and this one particular puppy made eye contact.  Penny, as she would be later named, chose my son as he chose her.  Three weeks later, Penny came to live with us.

And their adventures began.  They went everywhere  together.  A boy and his beloved dog, running free in open fields.  Indeed, a love so profound that there was a time when my son was near the edge of a hill and Penny put her teeth in the bottom of his trousers to pull him back.

The years rolled by.  The puppy became a fully grown dog.  The young boy became a young man.

The visits to the vets increased.  September, 2012, a vet checked out some lumps on her body and declared that she had some cancerous growths. The vet stated it was a high risk operation and she maybe had a year to live. The diagnosis didn't seem thorough enough and thus, we consulted with another vet.  It transpired that Penny, after a biopsy, had some fatty tissues.  The fatty tissues were removed and all was well with Penny.

September, 2017.  Penny seemed a bit poorly.  I took her to the vets that, after I moved home, was only a couple minutes walk away.  Upon examining her, the vet informed me that Penny had a tumour on her womb and a heart murmur. She said that Penny, most likely, had just a few weeks to live.  I was devastated.  I walked her back home.  The tears streamed down my face.  I sobbed uncontrollably.

Yet, Penny lived on.  Yes, at times, she seemed rather lethargic.  Her eyesight was fading and walks with her were becoming more difficult.  In between, were those wondrous, playful times where she seemed perfectly fine.  I truly believe that her love for us and our love for her, made her determined to share as much time with us as she possibly could.

Tuesday evening, October 23, 2018.  It was about seven in the evening.  I took Penny out for a walk.  Then, just like most nights, I headed off to the supermarket.  Upon my return, about eight in the evening, I realised something was very wrong with Penny.  I thought that taking her out for another walk might make her feel better.  Oh, how wrong I was.  I carried her back into my apartment.  I phoned my son.  I drove over to his place but noticed him waiting on a street corner.  We drove back to my apartment.

Tristan could now see that Penny was really struggling.  I phoned the veterinary clinic.  I got put through to the emergency vet but there was a fault in the line and she couldn't hear me.  My son phoned back and once again, the vet couldn't hear him either.  Tristan picked up Penny and carried her in his arms as we took the short walk to the vets.  Tristan banged on the front door of the closed veterinary clinic.  I went around the back and thankfully, there was a gentleman who worked there at night.  He managed to get through to the emergency vet.

The gentleman led us into a back room with a table for Penny to be placed on.  We comforted her as best we could.  Ten minutes later, the emergency vet arrived.  She examined Penny.  She looked at us, explained what had happened, which I wont detail here.  "It's time", the vet gently said to us.

Tristan and I lovingly caressed her as she went to sleep. It was the suddenness of it all.  Less than two hours had gone by since I first realised that something was so very wrong with our little angel.
Christmas, 2000.  A twelve year old Tristan with a two month old Penny. 💓
And a fully grown Penny with her human brother, now a young man. 💓
Penny the puppy with her human dad. 💓 
A fully grown Penny with her human dad.  💓

It has taken me over a month before I could finally write this post.  The waves of emotion have washed over me.  Especially in those silent moments when I'm all alone.  Yet, I truly know and Tristan truly knows, that during those silent moments, the love of Penny comes through in ways that touch our hearts and souls. She is always with us.

Penny was an ideal.  She taught us the lessons of non-judgemental, unconditional love.  I am humbled.  I'm deeply moved by all she did for us.  We both focus on all the sweet innocence she brought into our lives.  The joy she brought has no boundaries.  

In her passing, the bond between my son and I has never been stronger.  Our shared love for Penny, a powerful tonic of positivity.  She continues to weave her magic.

And now she has crossed over the Rainbow Bridge.  Roaming and running in the fields of freedom.

Thank you, Penny.  We love you, Penny. 💓💓

October 10, 2000 to October 23, 2018. 💓

Wednesday, 19 September 2018

Typing With Torn Tendons.

Hi there!  Yes, it's me, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!  You may have pawhaps noticed that my human dad, Gary, has done very little blogging over the past several months.  Well, it transpires that he has a very good reason for not doing much in the way of typing.

Yep, my human dad has finally found out that he has torn tendons in his left shoulder.  His silly shoulder situation has been happening since the beginning of January.  He was using his vibrator and noted he'd yanked something.  Oops, I'll rephrase that.  He was using a vibrating exercise machine and was a bit too enthusiastic with his exercise regime.  He then realised that something wasn't right with his left shoulder.

He had hoped that the pain would go away by itself.  Alassie, sorry, alas, it obviously didn't.  So, my human dad went and saw a doctor in early May.  The doctor sent him for some physiotherapy.  That didn't help.  The doctor had him get an X-Ray.  That didn't show any problems.  The doctor had him get a blood test and the results came back normal.  In fact, it took an ultrasound to reveal the torn tendons.

My human dad has now seen a consultant.  The consultant got him to do a variety of poses.  She even asked him to try and flex his biceps, "Just like Popeye!"  My human dad, being a bit of a poser, was, no doubt, well into doing that.  She informed him that it was best he continued to keep his left arm and shoulder as flexible as possible.  He's told me that it might take about eighteen months before the tendons have fully healed.  If the pain continues to be extreme, he has the option of a steroid injection.

Oh, I would also like to tell you that my human dad is going to have the surgical glove routine that relates to a certain dude-type problem.  He told me he's okay with that until he found out that the doctor with the surgical glove is an ex-pawfessional basketball player, famed for his gigantic hands and fingers....

Now then, I've observed that he hasn't been commenting on blogs very much.  I'll do my best to come and visit your blog.  Of course, I'll type one of my highly collectable comments that have been known to cause bidding wars on eBay. 

Please note that the comments section is switched off.  I mean, really, my human dad might struggle typing with torn tendons.  However, imagine what it's like for me to type.  It's kinda' like you trying to type whilst wearing mittens.

Pawsitive wishes, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar! 

Monday, 18 June 2018

Twenty Years Ago.

It was Thursday afternoon, June 18, 1998.  I was slumped on the sofa in my usual drunken stupor.  A frightened man barely clinging onto the last, fragile remnants of a shattered, battered and bruised dignity.  A frightened man waiting to die a sad, lonely death.

I heard a knock at the front door.  A sound so rare for I could go weeks without any human interaction.  My only interaction, the sharing of such a desperate time with Mr. Alcohol, my best friend, my lover, my worst enemy.

I stumbled to the front door.  A bedraggled mess of a man.  A man, bloated and heavily jaundiced.  I opened the door and there was my doctor.

He took one look at me and immediately phoned for an ambulance.  For, before him, was the worrying sight of somebody who hadn't eaten for three weeks.  The only nutrition, if you could call it that, was the consumption of three, two litre bottles of strong cider per day. Before the doctor, a man drowning in a sea of alcoholic despair.  I was stretchered away.  This would be my fourth alcohol-related stay at a hospital.

Near the end of the first week of what would be a five week stay, I had my ex wife and my nine year old son, Tristan, make a fleeting visit.  For they were about to go to Canada with her boyfriend and their baby boy.  Through tear-stained eyes, I hugged my son.  A hug that I cherish to this day.  A hug that saved my life.

After that, I had no visitors.  No visitors to note that during the first week I nearly died.  No visitors to be there for my birthday.  And yet, despite it all, despite me watching others having visitors and listening to the laughter, listening to the crying, I had time to reflect, time to change, one last chance to live.

That one last chance, further enhanced when a nurse came over to my bed and stated that I had a phone call at the ward's reception.  Very weak, oh, so very weak, I was taken in a wheelchair to the ward's reception.  It was my mother phoning from Vancouver.  Her words of comfort, resonate with love, twenty years on.

I could go into the harrowing details of how I ended up as a mere shadow of my former self.  A paranoid character swigging back two litre bottle of cider down back alleys.  But, that's in the past.  A past that taught me lessons that through such a potential demise, I could become better, stronger, more compassionate.

I'd had a nervous breakdown twenty years ago.  So much had happened and I tried to numb the relentless workplace bullying, the collapse of my marriage, compounded by the fact my wife had gotten pregnant by another man whilst still married to me.  I couldn't cope.  I was scared.  I was going insane and the insanity was made all the worse with the insidious evil of the alcohol I consumed.

And twenty years on, I'm still fragile, still raw.  I battle with debilitating depression and chronic fatigue.  It impacts me so much that my blogging has been sporadic.  It impacts me so much that I've hardly the energy to be involved with one of my vital lifelines, the vital lifeline that be the blogging community.

Twenty years on, I do know that the day I left hospital,  I left as a free man.  A man, most importantly, genuine in his conviction that alcohol would never again control his life.
I choose to live for my son, Tristan 
I choose to live for our beloved dog, Penny.

I choose to live for my mother, my family and friends in Canada. 

And I choose to live for me.  I listened to the wisdom of my inner child.