Daylight saving ended for the year on Sunday.
Last night, three laps of Princes Park (each 3.2 km) with 'surges' along the top and bottom and part of one side.
Autumn's here, the leaves are turning golden, but it is still warm.
It will be winter before we know it.
3/30/2005
3/24/2005
$1.25 million says the Tasmanian tiger exists.
With that kind of money on offer, someone will try to fake one.
Hmm. Wonder what Goldie would look like if I painted a few stripes on her.
Hmm. Wonder what Goldie would look like if I painted a few stripes on her.
3/19/2005
More lost dog publicity.
Yet another story from the Herald Sun, today on page 3. The paper has by far the highest circulation in Australia and reputedly in the Southern Hemisphere and you can't buy page 3.
"Basically there are thousands of dogs who lose their lives every year," said SADS (Save-a-Dog Scheme) founder and president Pam Weaver. "I was very upset about these dogs being put down so I wanted to do something about it."
She estimates SADS has saved up to 8000 dogs.
"We have saved thousands and thousands, literally. About 400 to 500 a year," Ms Weaver said.
SADS offers new home programs for dogs whose owners have died or can no longer look after them.
Why do people give up their pets?
"Most of the time they don't have a good reason," Ms Weaver said.
"If we didn't take the dogs they'd be put down."
SADS wants to change community attitudes to abandoned pets. "Just killing animals isn't right. It isn't acceptable," Ms Weaver said.
"Basically there are thousands of dogs who lose their lives every year," said SADS (Save-a-Dog Scheme) founder and president Pam Weaver. "I was very upset about these dogs being put down so I wanted to do something about it."
She estimates SADS has saved up to 8000 dogs.
"We have saved thousands and thousands, literally. About 400 to 500 a year," Ms Weaver said.
SADS offers new home programs for dogs whose owners have died or can no longer look after them.
Why do people give up their pets?
"Most of the time they don't have a good reason," Ms Weaver said.
"If we didn't take the dogs they'd be put down."
SADS wants to change community attitudes to abandoned pets. "Just killing animals isn't right. It isn't acceptable," Ms Weaver said.
3/16/2005
Greyhound Molly looking for a home.
A fellow greyhound foster carer with Molly.
The Herald Sun is notably generous with stories about rehoming dogs as well as animal welfare in general. They regularly run promotional pieces about the Lost Dogs Home, RSPCA and more.
The Herald Sun is notably generous with stories about rehoming dogs as well as animal welfare in general. They regularly run promotional pieces about the Lost Dogs Home, RSPCA and more.
Track season over.
Track season is over and we're heading towards autumn and winter which means cross country and road racing. That's a lot of fun. You haven't lived until you've run ten kilometres through mud in driving rain.
It's been a long and tiring summer track season stretching from October. We failed to make the final so the season ended Saturday. The finalists go on into April.
I doubled up in most meets, performing my 'specialty' event, the two or three kilometre walk; and then running either an 800, 1500 or 5000 an hour or so later. One Saturday I completed three races. I'm spent. I've been doing this for over thirty years. I must have run a zillion laps on athletics tracks all over Melbourne. But I still enjoy it so I'm never going to stop, I'll just get slower and slower!
(Speaking of walking, it is an odd event: we have a young guy from Ethiopia running with our group - Amir - who came along to his first track meet just as the walking race was getting under way. 'What are those guys doing?' he asked, amazed. 'They're walking, Amir.' 'But why?' he replied.)
At training last night, coach Tony said he was going to 'nurse' me and a couple of other old crocks through to the start of cross country season! Cool - that meant a 50 minute run with a fifteen minute surge at the end (i.e after 35 minutes) with three of the others. The rest of the group were doing one of the most brutal sessions - 6 x 1600 metres with a three minute jog break in between each.
It's been a long and tiring summer track season stretching from October. We failed to make the final so the season ended Saturday. The finalists go on into April.
I doubled up in most meets, performing my 'specialty' event, the two or three kilometre walk; and then running either an 800, 1500 or 5000 an hour or so later. One Saturday I completed three races. I'm spent. I've been doing this for over thirty years. I must have run a zillion laps on athletics tracks all over Melbourne. But I still enjoy it so I'm never going to stop, I'll just get slower and slower!
(Speaking of walking, it is an odd event: we have a young guy from Ethiopia running with our group - Amir - who came along to his first track meet just as the walking race was getting under way. 'What are those guys doing?' he asked, amazed. 'They're walking, Amir.' 'But why?' he replied.)
At training last night, coach Tony said he was going to 'nurse' me and a couple of other old crocks through to the start of cross country season! Cool - that meant a 50 minute run with a fifteen minute surge at the end (i.e after 35 minutes) with three of the others. The rest of the group were doing one of the most brutal sessions - 6 x 1600 metres with a three minute jog break in between each.
3/15/2005
3/10/2005
Bye, Cowboy. Another foster off to a new home.
He was especially affectionate all day today. Like he thought to himself 'this is it! I'm going to be here forever!'.
Then Melanie from the Greyhound Adoption Program arrived at 3 o'clock and led Cowboy out to the GAP vehicle, put him in the back and drove off into the distance, taking Cowboy to his forever home. I saw his pale face smiling as the car got smaller and smaller. Then he was gone.
Just like that. It hurts.
After three fun weeks of starting out by grabbing his food but then learning manners within days; being taught the ropes by Goldie, our 13-year-old female Brittany; going for runs along the beach near our beach house; endlessly sniffing around the house; bowing a lot to me every morning; slurping his long tongue into a glass of wine I had accidentally left unattended on the coffee table and actually drinking most of it without upsetting the glass; jumping up at the loungeroom window when seeing a possum and ripping the lace curtain RIGHT down the middle; and otherwise being the best and most affectionate and intelligent and playful and loving greyhound we have fostered since ... the last one.
I hope he gets a good home.
Then Melanie from the Greyhound Adoption Program arrived at 3 o'clock and led Cowboy out to the GAP vehicle, put him in the back and drove off into the distance, taking Cowboy to his forever home. I saw his pale face smiling as the car got smaller and smaller. Then he was gone.
Just like that. It hurts.
After three fun weeks of starting out by grabbing his food but then learning manners within days; being taught the ropes by Goldie, our 13-year-old female Brittany; going for runs along the beach near our beach house; endlessly sniffing around the house; bowing a lot to me every morning; slurping his long tongue into a glass of wine I had accidentally left unattended on the coffee table and actually drinking most of it without upsetting the glass; jumping up at the loungeroom window when seeing a possum and ripping the lace curtain RIGHT down the middle; and otherwise being the best and most affectionate and intelligent and playful and loving greyhound we have fostered since ... the last one.
I hope he gets a good home.
3/09/2005
Not enough exercise.
Although I'm not sure how you walk a cat.
I grew up with cats, not dogs. They were never fat. My father was afraid of dogs, having been bitten by one as a child.
I grew up with cats, not dogs. They were never fat. My father was afraid of dogs, having been bitten by one as a child.
3/07/2005
Lyrebirds fly.
I was driving down a mountain and saw one ... two .. three ... four ... lyrebirds kind of flapping across the road. The first looked awkward, like it wasn't really flying. The others, the same.
I didn't know they could fly.
It was before six in the morning on an isolated road in a rainforest.
They looked weird. They flapped across the road with their 'lyre' between their legs.
Beautiful.
I had only seen one lyrebird (on its bower, fifteen years ago deep in the Dandenong Ranges) before.
And yesterday I saw four in a few minutes.
I didn't know they could fly.
It was before six in the morning on an isolated road in a rainforest.
They looked weird. They flapped across the road with their 'lyre' between their legs.
Beautiful.
I had only seen one lyrebird (on its bower, fifteen years ago deep in the Dandenong Ranges) before.
And yesterday I saw four in a few minutes.
Ever seen a dog eat a chocolate crackle?
It's the funniest thing. It kind of explodes, with chocolatey rice bubbles going in all directions. Then the dog licks up all the yummy shards.
Yes, we spoil our dogs.
(And don't nobody tell me chocolate is bad for dogs. There's only a little cocoa in chocolate crackles. Not enough to hurt them.)
Yes, we spoil our dogs.
(And don't nobody tell me chocolate is bad for dogs. There's only a little cocoa in chocolate crackles. Not enough to hurt them.)
3/04/2005
That looks nice, what is it?
Yesterday I took Cowboy to the vet, see previous post. Goldie came too, for the ride. She stalks into the waiting room and heads straight for the weighing machine. Oh, yes, she knows it well.
It was around lunchtime. I stood at the receptionist's desk. She had her lunch on the desk. Usually they have like a half-eaten sandwich or maybe a cup of soup. Something like that.
She had a flat bowl on the desk. It contained light-brown chunks in a light-brown gravy.
I totally had to stop myself pointing and saying, 'Is that dog food?' or 'My God, are you eating dog food for lunch?' or 'Come on, what does that stuff taste like?' or even 'I knew pet food company reps provided free samples but I didn't know the staff actually sampled it!'.
It looked more like dog food than dog food. The wide flattish bowl, the light-brown chunks.
It wasn't dog food.
Unless dogs have learned to use the fork that was in the bowl.
It was around lunchtime. I stood at the receptionist's desk. She had her lunch on the desk. Usually they have like a half-eaten sandwich or maybe a cup of soup. Something like that.
She had a flat bowl on the desk. It contained light-brown chunks in a light-brown gravy.
I totally had to stop myself pointing and saying, 'Is that dog food?' or 'My God, are you eating dog food for lunch?' or 'Come on, what does that stuff taste like?' or even 'I knew pet food company reps provided free samples but I didn't know the staff actually sampled it!'.
It looked more like dog food than dog food. The wide flattish bowl, the light-brown chunks.
It wasn't dog food.
Unless dogs have learned to use the fork that was in the bowl.
Back on four legs.
Cowboy the foster greyhound is on cortisone and antibiotics for five days after his mishap (see previous post).
Apart from that, situation normal.
I must say, however, the possums on one side and the cats on the other are driving him crazy. Totally crazy. They're driving me crazy too. The cats, not the possums. Why don't people spey their cats? I've disposed of so many stray cats by obtaining the council cage and taking them to the shelter.
I should use my grandmother's technique. Stick them in a sock and drown them in a bucket of warm water. (She only did that when they were newborn - lived in the country and there were no vets handy.)
Apart from that, situation normal.
I must say, however, the possums on one side and the cats on the other are driving him crazy. Totally crazy. They're driving me crazy too. The cats, not the possums. Why don't people spey their cats? I've disposed of so many stray cats by obtaining the council cage and taking them to the shelter.
I should use my grandmother's technique. Stick them in a sock and drown them in a bucket of warm water. (She only did that when they were newborn - lived in the country and there were no vets handy.)
3/02/2005
Six o'clock Tuesday.
Cowboy has a mad minute.
T. hears a very loud metallic crash followed by Cowboy howling fiercely and then crying piteously.
6.01pm
She rushes out to find him on the ground whining. He has a cut on his left rear knee.
6.30pm
Cowboy's leg is all nicely bandaged up and Cowboy is sitting comfortably, like a cossetted child, on his double-thickness mattress, right there in our living room. Goldie is snoring on her tartan rug, ignoring him completely.
8pm
I arrive home and try to do a bit of detective work after T. tells me about the crashing noise. The problem with these greyhound limb injuries is that they can be minor or major, depending on what they hit. Our dear departed Billy used to whine and cry at the slightest bump and then be fine a minute later. I went into the back yard and decided it must have been one of the green outdoor chairs. They are really old and are made of solid iron instead of the aluminium they use these days. You can put your back out just looking at them. He must have run into one, hence the metallic crash. Ouch. Bone damage?
9pm
He's chewed his bandage off. I repack it after literally having to pick Cowboy up in order to put him outside for a wee before he goes to bed (inside). He doesn't know how to stand up using three legs (I can manage it with only two, don't know what his problem is) although once in position manages to stay upright.
10pm
Bed. Cowboy has trouble lying down (their back legs are such great levers) and he whines sporadically through the night.
6am Wednesday
I put him out for a wee, same routine picking him up. He chews his bandage off again while he's outside. The wound is bleeding slightly.
7am
Cowboy and Goldie have breakfast. Mmmm, chicken mince! Cowboy eats very well. That's a good sign.
9am
Cowboy tries to run for the door. That's a good sign. But he is not using his hurt leg at all.
Midday.
He's chewed his bandage off again. This time I leave it off. It's not bleeding. The sun and fresh will do him good.
3pm
Snack-time. A piece of cheese. He's looking freer but still favouring his leg, not using it. He gets very confused when coming inside. He has only just learned stairs in the last week and now's one leg short! Vet appointment made for tomorrow, couldn't get in today.
T. hears a very loud metallic crash followed by Cowboy howling fiercely and then crying piteously.
6.01pm
She rushes out to find him on the ground whining. He has a cut on his left rear knee.
6.30pm
Cowboy's leg is all nicely bandaged up and Cowboy is sitting comfortably, like a cossetted child, on his double-thickness mattress, right there in our living room. Goldie is snoring on her tartan rug, ignoring him completely.
8pm
I arrive home and try to do a bit of detective work after T. tells me about the crashing noise. The problem with these greyhound limb injuries is that they can be minor or major, depending on what they hit. Our dear departed Billy used to whine and cry at the slightest bump and then be fine a minute later. I went into the back yard and decided it must have been one of the green outdoor chairs. They are really old and are made of solid iron instead of the aluminium they use these days. You can put your back out just looking at them. He must have run into one, hence the metallic crash. Ouch. Bone damage?
9pm
He's chewed his bandage off. I repack it after literally having to pick Cowboy up in order to put him outside for a wee before he goes to bed (inside). He doesn't know how to stand up using three legs (I can manage it with only two, don't know what his problem is) although once in position manages to stay upright.
10pm
Bed. Cowboy has trouble lying down (their back legs are such great levers) and he whines sporadically through the night.
6am Wednesday
I put him out for a wee, same routine picking him up. He chews his bandage off again while he's outside. The wound is bleeding slightly.
7am
Cowboy and Goldie have breakfast. Mmmm, chicken mince! Cowboy eats very well. That's a good sign.
9am
Cowboy tries to run for the door. That's a good sign. But he is not using his hurt leg at all.
Midday.
He's chewed his bandage off again. This time I leave it off. It's not bleeding. The sun and fresh will do him good.
3pm
Snack-time. A piece of cheese. He's looking freer but still favouring his leg, not using it. He gets very confused when coming inside. He has only just learned stairs in the last week and now's one leg short! Vet appointment made for tomorrow, couldn't get in today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)