Holding dogs close

Reading Time: 6 minutes

Thursday began on such a canine high.

While I was finishing my morning run I saw a Mum with a pram and a dog, dropping off her 5 year old girl at school who was protesting that she didn’t want to enter. I heard a chorus of her little classmates already inside, chanting something of encouragement, but the girl continued to hold back. The Mum’s body language seemed to say, Not this again as she began pleading with the girl. I got within earshot by this stage and heard the girl’s response, “I can’t go in until I get a kiss”. I almost let out an audible “Ohhh” witnessing such a treasure, the daughter needing a goodbye kiss from Mum. But I misunderstood. The girl walked back to the dog (who was standing dutifully by Mum’s side), bent down and gave a peck on the ageing-grey head of her black labrador. She then practically skipped through the gate to join her friends.

Later that day, events abruptly made me forget that joy.

My eldest son Myles and I took our dog Bella to that same school for a walk, like we do any day that I’m working from home. After she had her routine bathroom stop, she approached another dog and played her usual annoying (Pomeranian) game of barking at the dog to get a reaction, then run around or run away. I paused my kicking the footy with Myles to go apologise to the owner. Other people never seem to mind a tiny loud Pomeranian playing. I moved her on regardless, to give everyone – including me – some peace and quiet.

Her dog “friend” left soon after, then we stopped kicking the ball to take Bella around the oval for some exercise.

Bella always trails behind us. I’m rarely concerned. She’s well-behaved off the leash and never strays too far from us, and always returns. We then noticed a couple of unleashed dogs run up to Bella, seeming to want to say hello or play. Bella didn’t do her usual barking or growling to entice a reaction. She looked more cautious or unsettled, perhaps due to how close they suddenly came up to her. We paused to watch, as a third dog joined the other two, and I began to worry that Bella had no easy way to escape. I saw a lady was in pretty close vicinity to the three dogs, who were all probably 30 metres from us.

We started calling Bella to come back to us. But her tail was up, so I wasn’t too worried. Then we heard a rise in commotion, with barking or growling from one of the other dogs, and saw Bella was trying to scurry away but was completely surrounded. We called her more forcefully to come to us, but she couldn’t escape.

I told Myles “Run!” One of the dogs, a medium-sized brown & white Labradoodle began biting at Bella. Bella was tiny in comparison, and completely defenseless. She yelped out, scared and in pain, and I kind of noticed the lady trying to intervene. Myles arrived quickly to the scene and lifted Bella out, which seemed to free her from the Labradoodle’s jaws. It was only relief for a moment, as the dog started jumping up and latching on, trying to rip down Bella’s tiny hind leg. This is when I reached the scene. I screamed an obscenity at the dog, threw a poo bag at it, and kicked it hard. The dog seemed unphased by me, but it did retreat a little. That enabled Myles to lift Bella more safely away from the snapping jaws of the Labradoodle. The other two smaller dogs weren’t aggressive, but just as interested in Bella. The owner of the dogs was failing to control any of them.

I felt obliged to explain to the lady my fury wasn’t directed at her, but I had no choice as her dog was unresponsive. Our conversation could have gone in a couple of different directions. I was livid. If she had a problem, I was ready for it! She didn’t protest at all. In fact, she was happy with my actions and had already begun apologising profusely.

With the danger now over, Myles and I, and the lady started to talk through the shock we just experienced. I checked Bella’s foot where the dog had latched on, and was happy to see no painful reaction. We also saw no physical marks, so we were relieved to think the attack might have been ‘more bark than bite’. The lady continued to apologise, and tell us how embarassed she was, and that it had never happened before. She gave me her details – let’s call her “Vicky”, and mentioned they would pay for any vet bills to get Bella checked out or whever was needed. Also shared her fear that this event would be all over the local Facebook page, which seemed an odd concern at that point.

We then noticed blood streaming down Vicky’s own fingers. The Labradoodle must have also bitten her in the skirmish, but she deflected any concerns we had for her, and worried only for our dog. Poor Bella did have a growing red stain on her fur, around her neck near her right shoulder.

Myles & I were still worried for Vicky’s well-being. She was bitten badly, clearly in shock, struggling to speak, and almost at the point of tears over what her dog had just caused. We offered to help get her home, and make sure she was OK. But she didn’t want our help. It turned out their house backs onto the school oval. Bella & I walk past their place almost every single morning. She was clearly embarassed and was scolding & muttering her worries to the three dogs, all now finally leashed. Myles & I tried continuing our walk with Bella, hoping things could still be normal. It didn’t last long though. Bella was too shaken and the blood on her fur was starting to increase.

We have a friend who works at the local vet, who I phoned while Myles was carrying Bella home. I really just wanted advice whether her vet was open, or whether we’d need to visit the animal emergency – 30 minutes away. Instead, she kindly drove straight over to take a look. She shaved away the fur near the wound, and washed it out with a few items she picked up. We could then see there was a single puncture mark, just over a centimetre wide. It continued to bleed. Bella was clearly stressed from the attack, and nipping at some of our advances. We were hopeful though, at the vet the next morning they’d find nothing too serious, and maybe just add a couple of stitches.

I sent a text message to update Vicky that night, with a couple of photos that showed the damage. Soon after, I received a call from an unknown number, who turned out to be Vicky’s husband. He asked if I could communicate with him, as Vicky was too shaken up. The guy then explained that they were on their way back from the animal emergency themselves, where they had just been, …. to put down their dog!

I fell silent. Even though their dog had allegedly never attacked before, they felt they couldn’t trust the dog from then on. I said I respect their wishes, but it’s (DEFINITELY) not what I wanted. Earlier I wasn’t even clear myself, whether it was right to report the dog to local council. After the attack I deliberately stretched my hand out in front of the dog to check if I’d consider it a dangerous dog. Which I guess given what it just joyfully did to Bella, should be utterly conclusive.

The next morning at the vet, it turned out the damage was more severe. While it seemed like a clean puncture wound into her skin, the bite in fact tore quite long, length-wise parallel to the skin’s surface. They learned this after putting her under general anaesthetic. They cleaned the area, and stitched her up after inserting a drain which they hope to remove next Friday. The drain is even more disgusting than it sounds. It’s there to allow fluids to release from the area, and prevent infection.

Altogether our vet bill #1 was $1,280. Although the other family would be grieving the fresh loss of their dog, I didn’t hesitate to send the paid invoice onto them, which they promptly reimbursed. In our communications I asked again how Vicky was doing. It turned out she went to work to take her mind off it.

It’s terribly upsetting to see your dog wounded from an unprovoked attack. This whole episode was made worse, knowing it led to a family having to say farewell to their dog.

And to think, my day started so lovely, witnessing a sweet little girl unable to start her day until she kissed her canine companion goodbye.

A tough watch

Reading Time: 2 minutes

I knew it would be a tough watch.

A recent episode of ABC’s Australian Story program featured the work of Mechelle Turvey, mother of Cassius Turvey – the 15 year old Aboriginal boy who was slain in 2022.

Cassius was the victim of a senseless, unprovoked, racist attack in Western Australia. His death shocked all of Australia and resulted in nationwide vigils and rallies (Wikipedia). As a father myself of Aboriginal boys of the same age, I clearly remember the story rocking me to my core.

The timing of this episode was sadly poignant. In a fresh story also out of Western Australia (this time Broome), video footage had gone viral of a tradesman that had used cable ties to handcuff and shackle three young Aboriginal siblings together. The three kids – ages 6, 7, and 8 – were restrained for almost an hour in the 33 degree Summer heat. The kids are seen in the recording screaming for their Mum and wanting water. And why did the guy feel the need to intervene and assault these children? He found them trespassing in the neighbour’s pool.

Against that emotional backdrop, I watched this episode, mostly bawling my eyes out.

Like most Australian Stories it was amazing.

I had heard that Mechelle Turvey took a very peaceful position when the protests began in Cassius’s name. There were definitely forces rising across the Nation which wanted revenge and worse. “Mama’s on a Mission“, as they titled it, shows just how incredibly warm and positive her response became, to ease those tensions.

Mechelle is inspiring, and a very worthy recipient of WA’s Australian Of The Year. She has even gone on to teach empathy to the Western Australian police force in an ongoing role. This is just remarkable, given some of their ineptitude they showed in dealing with the Aboriginal community.

There’s no way I can even fathom that amount of grief, let alone come through it with something positive and helpful. We also learned more about Cassius, and how he continues to inspire through his memory and the legacy his beautiful Mum honours.

Although it was tough to watch and hear about this episode again, I think it adds some important positivity to some terribly negative stories of racial violence, which is sadly not yet a thing of the past for Australia.

Review: The Princess Diarist

Reading Time: < 1 minuteThe Princess Diarist
The Princess Diarist by Carrie Fisher
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Audio books usually lack something compared to regular books. It’s not the case when you can hear the late great Carrie Fisher reading her own brilliantly funny account of the wonder days of Star Wars and its ensuing fame. It made me smile every day. Perhaps a more appropriate title would be “My infatuation with Harrison Ford”.

View all my GoodReads reviews

Licensed to spam 25k people

Reading Time: 3 minutesFor a few years I’ve been a subscriber to The Listserve. It’s an opt-in email subscription, where each day a randomly selected subscriber gets to share whatever they want via email to the entire group.

Most emails begin with the sender saying they never thought they’d be selected. And I can relate with this thought. It was a year ago today, I sent my message to the massive group.

I had a few rough ideas which I might want to send if I was ever selected. But something else entirely was was on my mind that day.

Following is the message I sent – Wed, May 28, 2014 at 1:02 PM.

Subject: [The Listserve] RUOKday:

New Year’s Day is supposed to be a celebration, a reflection, a hope for things to improve.

From this year on, I will always remember the 1st of January as the day our family friend’s 15 year old son took his own life.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds. His loving family is left with no answers, except that perhaps he is no longer suffering in silence.

News travels fast on social networks. Within a week the boy’s Facebook page lit up with thousands of posts, each one from someone in similar disbelief sharing how much they loved him, and will dearly miss him.

He couldn’t have known how wide and deep his network extends.

When someone who is loved and very popular, seemingly happy with life, and always up for an adventure, decides something is troubling him so much he can’t seek help, what chance do others have?

I know I hugged my sons extra tightly when I heard the tragic news. It was an upsetting and tough conversation to then have with them about why it happened. But it’s an awareness that’s helpful they have.

I tried to make it clear, if they’re ever struggling with life there is always someone to talk to. We can overcome all of life’s problems, no matter how big they seem.

Do all our other family, friends, colleagues know they have someone to talk to when they feel down about life?

There is an awareness programme based on this unusual email subject line. They encourage people to ask “Are you OK?” They believe a conversation could change a life. I believe it also.

I do hope you’re OK.

Perhaps someone in your circle could benefit from hearing you want to know they’re OK too.

Warm regards

Ryan
@rbrink77
ryan.listserved[a t] brinkworth.id.au
Dubai, UAE

P.S. Some coincidences are very interesting. Just before I was going to hit the send button on this message, I received today’s list serve message from Tim Rowberry. Not only do we happen to be sharing a post on the same sad topic, the ominous date he mentions as being his birthday, is mine also.

The ListServe lets you choose to add your contact details or not. Due to the point of my message, I wanted to be available for feedback.

In summary I received 19 emails, and 3 or 4 tweets in reply to my post. Overall the feedback was good. Some people shared their own related stories. Others just let me know they thought the email was good or important and that they had bought into the topic. And there were three messages which were completely psychotic – recommending Suicide, and outlining the environmental issues that will make sure nothing gets better for anyone. It takes all types to make the world.

Although I’ll never know what effect it will have on anyone, I’m glad I got the message out there. A conversation has every chance of being the start of something good.

Another year, another VB

Reading Time: 3 minutesI’m drinking another bottle of VB (Victoria Bitter) beer. It’s a beer I’ve always disliked, though I drink it every year on this day.
It means another year has passed since my good mate JPS passed away. A guy that was full of life, and a fridge often filled with VB.

This day is devoted to reflecting on the guy, and the great times we had together. The fact I drink VB is to give him something up there to laugh at.

Just thinking back to the day of the funeral makes my eyes water remembering the tributes, including the touching words and song from Tim Freedman of The Whitlams fame – an Australian celebrity who became a good friend of John’s.
I had the daunting honour of giving the eulogy on behalf of his friends and colleagues.

For some reason I thought I’d post the eulogy here today for posterity, without some of the more personal points.

17 November 2006
JPS began working working with us on the 20th of March, 1989 as a Cadet Draftsman in Engineering. Within a year he had his first stint as a Forms Analyst.
In 1997 he moved permanently into the Forms Unit; gaining promotion to Senior Forms Analyst in November 2002. It was there he remained until he left the department on 18th of May last year due to his deteriorating health.
John took great pride in the work he produced, and enjoyed mentoring young employees joining his area. His no-nonsense approach when dealing with superiors earned his team’s respect. But I think overall, John will be remembered in the work environment for the nonsense he would start at any opportunity.
I had a ball working in the same section as John. A lot of people did. His practical jokes and clowning around were memorable, to say the least. Sometimes the audience wasn’t in full support, but that usually didn’t stop him.
Virtually no one on our floor could get a haircut without getting the third degree from John; about the hairdresser being an apprentice, or hoping we kept the receipt for a refund.
It got to the point that if you got a haircut, you’d just automatically visit John to get the ribbing out of the way.
John loved writing, he really should have authored a book. His imagination and creativity shone through in the amazing email messages he sent to huge audiences almost every day to get a laugh. It was easy to forget that behind the great lengths and vivid descriptions of his hilarious yarns, was the fact that he was sitting there typing away at a snail’s pace with his only functioning hand. But it was well-known he would go to any lengths to get a laugh.

While I had a ball working in JP’s section, I felt that I failed when trying to do his job.
I couldn’t sustain nearly as many groups of people that called on JP at anytime for a laugh.
Only JP could find enough time for that many people. And only he had the jovial character to leave an impression with anyone he met; along with the charisma to draw such large crowds into his circle.
My feelings turned to frustration when I was John’s manager for a short period. I learned what a long line of managers before me had learned. He wasn’t meant to be managed.
It really made me question myself. Why was I trying to set the rules, when John was having so much fun breaking them. Yes, John was the perfect antidote for anyone taking themselves too seriously.
I doubt we will ever find someone who loved life as much as JPS.
Regardless of the difficulties he faced, John never resigned from the things he enjoyed:

  • the laid back, worry-free lifestyle,
  • joking around with mates,
  • downing a fine beer (or homebrew),
  • and always listening to good music.

We can all learn a lot from JP’s enduring love of life, and his ability to stay positive throughout all his challenges.
I’ve learned, a long life should never be taken for granted, but having happiness right to the end can be – when you have the right attitude.
John, thank you for letting my family and I into your life. Thank you from all of your colleagues that enjoyed your company, humour, kindness, and lasting friendship.
We are sad to lose a friend, and to see an end to the good times spent with you. But we’re relieved you will go through no more pain.
We lost John many years too early. But we can all make sure that the memories of good times remain.

Thank you JPS.
:’-)

The saddest blog I hope I ever write

Reading Time: 3 minutesA tragic event rocked our new year.  On New Year’s Eve, a dear family friend’s son took his own life.

It still seems like a bad dream.

There was no prior warning, there were no signs. There seems to be no reasons.

An army of friends banded together to show the family their support and help. Though our help seems pretty trivial in the face of their heartache wondering why – perhaps a question they’ll have for the rest of their lives.  And we could offer no help to alleviate the pain that had cut so deep, none of them have eaten or slept in the four days since it happened.

We could really just let them know we’re there.

20140105-063958.jpg
Myles’s picture of his friend. He wants to make it into a card for the family

The boy was friendly with my two sons.  They both loved his sense of humour, and were drawn to his charisma.  So I felt it was right to tell them what happened, though I first Google-d to confirm the experts recommend it also.

It was a terribly tough conversation to have with the boys. The web advice was quite helpful. We obviously avoided sharing any specifics. There were useful messages about suicide being an illness, that the stress & unhappiness makes people forget there are always people to talk to; and that their actions were just an attempt to feel better when they thought there was nothing else they could do.  It’s a very sad, but important lesson.  And it was upsetting  to see my boys learn it so intimately.

I thought my five year old may be too young to understand. It was clear though he knew exactly what we were saying.  When we took them to visit the family the day after, he asked if the boy was there in a grave.  And on the way home, both my boys were asking really good questions about what could they do.  My nine year old has practically made it a mission to be there and check on all of his friends at school regularly.

In terms of my own feelings, I still find this very difficult to accept. How could things grow so overwhelming for a 15 year old that it comes to this? To his close family and friends, it makes no sense. To an outsider, it makes even less sense.

We already knew he was popular and well-liked.  His Facebook page lit up with an overwhelming number of posts from his friends, all sharing how highly they thought of him, and how much they’ll miss him. He couldn’t have known the level of support he had.  He could not have realised how many people felt broken at his passing.

The day after we heard the news, not by specific plan, I had my weekly run in their suburb.  It was a lovely cool, upbeat morning, with lots of positive thoughts.  Without even truly realising where I was, a solemn feeling swept through me as I came close to their neighborhood.  I suddenly had to stop, walk off course toward the entrance’s security gate.  Then my mind filled with visions of him on his bike on these same streets.  Usually with friends, most often making jokes and hearing his distinctive laugh, laughing hysterically.  And here I am in the dark silence of morning, almost fittingly cold and empty. I was overwhelmed with the thoughts of his demise.  His family still wide awake in the villa, feeling crushed by their loss. I turned back, felt the pure tragedy and became quite a blubbering mess.

At the end of a long morning run, I generally feel wonderful to be alive. That morning I felt more reflective on how lucky we are, and that we have a duty to make the most of our time.
Because, for whatever reason, some people aren’t here to enjoy this opportunity.  May they now rest in peace.

Should we be Social after we die

Reading Time: 2 minutesLast year a dear family friend passed away from a heart attack. This morning on my smart phone I received a Notification it was his birthday today, “Tap to write on his Timeline!”

I decided not to.

It made me wonder though, what is the protocol in these socially-connected times when you do pass away?

Social networks are quite a new thing for me – I believe he was my first Facebook friend to pass away. I was unsure how it worked. Then I found it was touching to see the messages of condolence free flowing onto his page, and for people to share their feelings and memories of such a loved person.

One particular tribute from a colleague of his, turned out to be a long-lost school friend of mine whom I reconnected with, and shared our own stories about him.

His Facebook profile still lives on today. It’s a nice time capsule of the thoughts and wishes of his friends and families, and a report on the funeral. I treasure the physical programme from funerals I attend, and keep them as a record. Perhaps the persisting social presence of those loved ones who pass away is the modern day equivalent where you don’t attend the funeral.

Facebook has several set Relationship statuses for people to use. I’ve seen people evolve from Single, to In a Relationship, to Married. And sadly the opposite direction from Married, to It’s Complicated, and back to being Married or Single again.

But what to do about the “living” status of your (online) presence?

It’d be too late for us to update our own status when we’ve left this mortal coil. So my wife and I agreed we’d hack each others Facebook profile to make the change, and inform our Friends in the present condition.

I recognise this is truly a First World Problem. And it’s an unimportant one at that. But I do find it interesting to ponder.

In this digital connected age, our physical existence has an important relationship with our virtual existence. For completeness and ongoing relevance, we may need greater consideration on the impact of one on the other.

For the record, #iamstillhere ..

Cycle of life lesson

Reading Time: 2 minutesJust over a year ago we bought Myles a fish tank. We feel Dubai is not a climate suitable for any other types of pet, and travelling and holidays become more difficult if we have a more dependent pet. But there were lessons Myles would learn from caring after a pet that are too valuable to miss.

Myles looked after the fish tank and his fish quite well, although he’d often need reminding to feed them. He even felt that a few times they needed a hug. He’d do this by crouching down and hugging the tank. I suppose it’s better than trying to hug the individual fish.

Up until a little while ago we had quite a lot of luck with the fish we bought at the same time we bought the tank. A couple died, but there were a core of 3-4 hardy souls who survived even a week or so of neglect between our house minders going on holiday, and us returning from ours. When we returned we tried to replenish the stock of fish with a tank full of new entrants. That’s when our luck dried up. We had to replace new dead fish more regularly and replace them with more soon to be dead fish.

It was during this period that Lewis – our 2 year old learnt – about the cycle of life. He would follow Elle over to the tank to pick out the dead fish, watch her take it over to the toilet, then watch her dispatch it to its final resting place.

Well, we thought Lewis was learning about the cycle of life. He may have learnt a more simple cycle. One morning after watching the fish disappear down the bowl, he went back furiously pointing at the fish tank and saying with some excitement, “More, more, more”.

Despite his request we didn’t needlessly flush any fish. There’d always be another one requiring flushing in a day or two.

R.I.P. HH Sheikh Ahmed Bin Zayed Al Nahyan

Reading Time: 2 minutesThis evening I learned that His Highness Sheikh Ahmed Bin Zayed Al Nahyan has been confirmed dead, regrettably too early at the young age of 42.  For the uninitiated, Bin (or occasionally “Ibn”) means son of – so from his name alone you can tell he was the son of the founding father of the UAE, the late Sheikh Zayed; and the last name, Al Nahyan is Abu Dhabi’s ruling family’s surname. It turns out he was the younger brother of Abu Dhabi’s current ruler, and President of UAE, Sheikh Khalifa. 

Sheikh Ahmed’s body was missing for 3-4 days after his glider crashed in Morocco, so it was pretty clear the story was not going to end well.  I figured out that news had broke of his body being found as soon as I got in the car this evening and turned on the radio.  All of the English stations were playing morbid classical music, and all other stations had Arabic prayers being sung.  Within the UAE they routinely do this out of respect to the family. Depending on how closely they were related to the ruler, this mourning period can go for days.

Earlier this year one of the elder Al Nahyan family members passed away, which took all modern music off the radio for a couple of days. We kept the radio turned off to avoid falling asleep when driving. And after waiting for a while, I thought I’d just switch the radio on just for a second to see if the mourning period had ended, the moment I switched it on Lady Gaga sang “I wanna take a ride on your disco stick”, so yep, it had finished.  Although, the music was no improvement.

The question now arises, will we get days off.  Apparently it’s quite common for public holidays to be issued when a royal family member passes away. And again the number of days off depends on how closely related  the deceased was within the royal ranks.

One of the minor things we looked at when we were sussing out Dubai and our potential move, was the comparison of holidays between Dubai and our home city of Brisbane.  At first glance it seemed they were very close in number. UAE misses Christian holidays such as Easter and Christmas, but they have many single days off for Muslim occasions.  And when you add the days off that happen when people die, it seems Dubai’s working days per year could be quite less than Brisbane.