All Gods Children Day One
Without Prejudice
It had been a hot sticky night. Not going below 27 degrees Celsius overnight and with a humidity count of ninety percent. Sleeping was almost impossible, even with my air con blasting in lounge and bedroom, two fans circulating and a mini fan near my face.
I live in a one bedroom unit at the rear of my daughters house. The veritable old lady that lived in a shoe. It's cute, has its own tiny porch and steps, a garden that I am always trying to wrestle into submission and is cosy in Winter and unbearable in Summer. Or so the builders told me the day I moved in.
" They are great units, Janette, " they said, " But too hot in Summer "
The first Summer I suffered through with a water cooler and a fan. The water cooler was worse than useless on steaming hot days and the only way I could cool down was to jump in the shower every half hour. At least I smelled good. The second Summer I bought an air conditioner from EBay and pushed it into my boot all by myself.
I then had to lug the unit up the stairs of the above mentioned porch and wheel it inside. When I connected it up with its window kit I vowed and declared I was not going out until Autumn. It was perfect. The third Summer I gained another air conditioner, this time for the bedroom. Blissful.
I grabbed another in passing for the families house. My daughter is a skinny little birch and never feels the heat, but her 7 sons and one daughter do, so they used to bolt out to my place when the weather turned unbearable and always used to say the same thing.
" Aaaaaaah "
Now they have their own and tend to leave me alone so I can write.
This morning after what seemed like five minutes of sleep I heard rapping at the door. I prayed for it to go away but God wasn't listening, obviously and the knocking just became louder and louder. I jumped up and wrenched the front door open hesitating to open the fly wire door as I was dressed in knickers and a old tank top
Acer was standing at the door with. Dog food can in hand and a can opener. He wanted to feed the pups we were given to mind yesterday, two German Sheperds, a boy and girl. We already have two little Shih Zhus, Charlie and Benson, and kept refusing to have the German Sheperds as we thought they would eat the diminutive Shih Zhus.
Charlie and Benson came to us about three years ago via my oldest daughter who had paid a fortune for them and spoiled them like they were her babies. Then she met a new man and he had two Rottweilers and Charlie and Benson needed a new home as they definitely would have snacked on them.
The German Sheperd pups belong to one of my daughters sons, Zach, who moved into his girlfriends Mothers house along with his significant other and two kids, and left the pups with his younger brother, Jai, who was sharing a house with a few others. Jai, then started working long and stressful hours at a new job and the dogs care fell by the wayside. The dogs had become skinny, especially Hazel, the female, Axl, the male.
Zach paid $2,700 for the two, (they're not related at all, ) And has a plan he says he still wants to do which is become a licensed Dog Breeder of, you guessed it, German Sheperds. His favourite pet as a boy was a German Sheperd called Bonnie who died of old age and is buried here in the side Garden. All the seven boys cried like babies when they laid her to rest. She was a very special dog.
So Axl and Hazel came to us yesterday with food, toys, bones and a promise that Zach and his girlfriend Danni will be back every few days to clean up any dog shit and generally check on them. This will not happen. The amount of pets I have had given to me by others who promise the same thing can be counted on two hands. One girl begged me to take her cat until she was able to re house herself, leaving me with a weeks worth of food and a bag of kitty litter.
Never saw her for years.
It took a week to get the cat out of the spare room and she became mine. A beautiful Cat who was a fixed tabby, a part Siamese who had had a litter and was a good Mum, the girl had said. Taz turned out to be the best cat ever. She was playful, affectionate, if I ignored her she would lick me like a dog.
She would romp through the house I was in at the time, waking me up startled out of my wits at three in the morning when she was in this crazy mood. I learned to shut the door and she would just head butt it instead until I let her in.
I would wake up many a morning with her lying next to my face and she would bat my face with her paws until I woke up and fed her. Either that or she would sit on my face and purr loudly until I woke with a jolt and pushed her off spitting and spluttering. Then once she had woken me she would brow loudly until I fed her and she would make sure I did before I could do anything else. She would wait until I pulled into the driveway every night to greet me before running from bottom to top and yowl loudly in greeting, pushing past my ankles as sinewy as a snake.
I had to have her put down when she sickened with old age and I blubber like a baby in the foyer of the vets so hard they had to grab me, drag me into an ante room and give me a soothing cup of tea as I was so upset I was scaring the other owners and pers. I cried every day for a week.
Losing an animal is like losing a member of the family and I vowed and declared then that I would never ever have another animal that was solely mine. Instead I adopt the families animals, five cats and two dogs. We had a Husky when I first arrived and Brock One of the older sons was the only one that could catch her if she escaped. She was a nightmare to catch as somewhere in her ancestry she had the " Mush " gene, and would run for miles as if pulling on a sled in the frozen tundra somewhere.
The only way my daughter could get her back was to drive The Tarago with the side door open and Brock crouched inside. When she was spotted Yvette would slow the van and Brock would leap out arms and legs spread, like Spider-Man and drop On to her back and pin her to the ground. She was a large fluff ball with beautiful piercing blue green eyes and a gentle affable nature. Comical. She died while Yvette was in having her only girl child, after 7 boys, a girl, what a shock. Yvette always called Kayko her " girl" and that day, of all days, she just keeled over and died quietly.
I was there as I had seen her lying down in the backyard near the washing line when I was washing the dishes and went out to pet her thinking she was taking a nap. As I approached her I realised she was almost dead. Don't ask me how I knew, instinct I guess. I held her head and willed her to live
while yelling for help. But she was gone in minutes. I had time to tell her what a great dog she had been and what a protector she had been to the family.
She was a pedigree dog and only eight.
It had been a hot sticky night. Not going below 27 degrees Celsius overnight and with a humidity count of ninety percent. Sleeping was almost impossible, even with my air con blasting in lounge and bedroom, two fans circulating and a mini fan near my face.
I live in a one bedroom unit at the rear of my daughters house. The veritable old lady that lived in a shoe. It's cute, has its own tiny porch and steps, a garden that I am always trying to wrestle into submission and is cosy in Winter and unbearable in Summer. Or so the builders told me the day I moved in.
" They are great units, Janette, " they said, " But too hot in Summer "
The first Summer I suffered through with a water cooler and a fan. The water cooler was worse than useless on steaming hot days and the only way I could cool down was to jump in the shower every half hour. At least I smelled good. The second Summer I bought an air conditioner from EBay and pushed it into my boot all by myself.
I then had to lug the unit up the stairs of the above mentioned porch and wheel it inside. When I connected it up with its window kit I vowed and declared I was not going out until Autumn. It was perfect. The third Summer I gained another air conditioner, this time for the bedroom. Blissful.
I grabbed another in passing for the families house. My daughter is a skinny little birch and never feels the heat, but her 7 sons and one daughter do, so they used to bolt out to my place when the weather turned unbearable and always used to say the same thing.
" Aaaaaaah "
Now they have their own and tend to leave me alone so I can write.
This morning after what seemed like five minutes of sleep I heard rapping at the door. I prayed for it to go away but God wasn't listening, obviously and the knocking just became louder and louder. I jumped up and wrenched the front door open hesitating to open the fly wire door as I was dressed in knickers and a old tank top
Acer was standing at the door with. Dog food can in hand and a can opener. He wanted to feed the pups we were given to mind yesterday, two German Sheperds, a boy and girl. We already have two little Shih Zhus, Charlie and Benson, and kept refusing to have the German Sheperds as we thought they would eat the diminutive Shih Zhus.
Charlie and Benson came to us about three years ago via my oldest daughter who had paid a fortune for them and spoiled them like they were her babies. Then she met a new man and he had two Rottweilers and Charlie and Benson needed a new home as they definitely would have snacked on them.
The German Sheperd pups belong to one of my daughters sons, Zach, who moved into his girlfriends Mothers house along with his significant other and two kids, and left the pups with his younger brother, Jai, who was sharing a house with a few others. Jai, then started working long and stressful hours at a new job and the dogs care fell by the wayside. The dogs had become skinny, especially Hazel, the female, Axl, the male.
Zach paid $2,700 for the two, (they're not related at all, ) And has a plan he says he still wants to do which is become a licensed Dog Breeder of, you guessed it, German Sheperds. His favourite pet as a boy was a German Sheperd called Bonnie who died of old age and is buried here in the side Garden. All the seven boys cried like babies when they laid her to rest. She was a very special dog.
So Axl and Hazel came to us yesterday with food, toys, bones and a promise that Zach and his girlfriend Danni will be back every few days to clean up any dog shit and generally check on them. This will not happen. The amount of pets I have had given to me by others who promise the same thing can be counted on two hands. One girl begged me to take her cat until she was able to re house herself, leaving me with a weeks worth of food and a bag of kitty litter.
Never saw her for years.
It took a week to get the cat out of the spare room and she became mine. A beautiful Cat who was a fixed tabby, a part Siamese who had had a litter and was a good Mum, the girl had said. Taz turned out to be the best cat ever. She was playful, affectionate, if I ignored her she would lick me like a dog.
She would romp through the house I was in at the time, waking me up startled out of my wits at three in the morning when she was in this crazy mood. I learned to shut the door and she would just head butt it instead until I let her in.
I would wake up many a morning with her lying next to my face and she would bat my face with her paws until I woke up and fed her. Either that or she would sit on my face and purr loudly until I woke with a jolt and pushed her off spitting and spluttering. Then once she had woken me she would brow loudly until I fed her and she would make sure I did before I could do anything else. She would wait until I pulled into the driveway every night to greet me before running from bottom to top and yowl loudly in greeting, pushing past my ankles as sinewy as a snake.
I had to have her put down when she sickened with old age and I blubber like a baby in the foyer of the vets so hard they had to grab me, drag me into an ante room and give me a soothing cup of tea as I was so upset I was scaring the other owners and pers. I cried every day for a week.
Losing an animal is like losing a member of the family and I vowed and declared then that I would never ever have another animal that was solely mine. Instead I adopt the families animals, five cats and two dogs. We had a Husky when I first arrived and Brock One of the older sons was the only one that could catch her if she escaped. She was a nightmare to catch as somewhere in her ancestry she had the " Mush " gene, and would run for miles as if pulling on a sled in the frozen tundra somewhere.
The only way my daughter could get her back was to drive The Tarago with the side door open and Brock crouched inside. When she was spotted Yvette would slow the van and Brock would leap out arms and legs spread, like Spider-Man and drop On to her back and pin her to the ground. She was a large fluff ball with beautiful piercing blue green eyes and a gentle affable nature. Comical. She died while Yvette was in having her only girl child, after 7 boys, a girl, what a shock. Yvette always called Kayko her " girl" and that day, of all days, she just keeled over and died quietly.
I was there as I had seen her lying down in the backyard near the washing line when I was washing the dishes and went out to pet her thinking she was taking a nap. As I approached her I realised she was almost dead. Don't ask me how I knew, instinct I guess. I held her head and willed her to live
while yelling for help. But she was gone in minutes. I had time to tell her what a great dog she had been and what a protector she had been to the family.
She was a pedigree dog and only eight.
