Ode to my Farmer

I passed away in the early hours of this morning, outside when the sun came up and in a place I knew was home. It was where we sat having drinks in summer, near your chair where one of you would reach down and pet me. The outside erection built by you, I wasn’t well and have been slowly letting you know I was going to pass over a week ago. I started to not want my food.

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I remember you coming and selecting me, you picked me up held me to your chest and I felt your heart beat and you brought me to the farm. I was little and it was big, there were other dogs that looked like me and white 4 legged wooly animals as well as big black 4 legged creatures. All of this was frightening but you carried me around until you felt I was ready to join the mob. You spent weeks touching me, encouraging me, training me to obey, sit on the back of the ute, run after sheep and cattle whilst growing up.

I loved the space, I loved working, you would drive the ute and whistle, I would know what to do, I was your right or left hand depending upon where you sent me. These cattle and sheep were never frightening after you took the time to teach me, I could get them where you wanted them. You would lift me up into the ute, pat me and tell me all the time what a good dog I was, sometimes if I was hot I would run to the trough, jump in and lie down whilst moving my body from one end to the other to cool off.

I loved the farm and I loved you, you would pat me, feed me and put me in my kennel at night for protection. I was never chained except on the back of a ute to protect me and as I grew and became the oldest working dog I earnt the right to sit in the ute with you whilst the other younger ones got to ride in the back. This was great in summer with the air conditioner on and in winter with the heater. I would stand with my head resting on the dash board looking out. You would reach over and pat me often, I loved working with you. I loved summer when we would go to the dam and swim whilst chasing a ball it was what I was bred to be.

I learnt your voice, your whistle and your touch, you were who I wanted to be with. I learnt the good words and the bad words. Sometimes (when working in sheep & cattle yards) there would be swearing and I would look for a way of running off. It was here in the sheep yards that we had our serious accident. I jumped, missed and dislocated my hips. You picked me up and took me into the vet, I then had to spend weeks getting better, I never really recovered to my best but you never seemed to mind. You would come and get me, sit on the step and hold me like I was a puppy again, I would place my head on your shoulder and breath the love between us

During my growing years, I had a coat given to me in winter, I had a bed I was always happy to go to, it didn’t even become crowded when the new puppy came along and she dug under our joined fence and started to sleep with me. We were fed, we were allowed to swim and we were a family. When I was really sore I was given the best health care going, I even was allowed trips to town, the bank teller still remembers when you brought me in and placed me on the counter (where I was a little scared and I peed) no one told me off you picked me up and patted me. I also had many people that I loved and they loved me. People came and went but you were always there.

Then last year I became sore in the hips, slowed down and found it difficult to keep my balance in the front of the ute (I had turned 15) I suffered if I had to work so we decided I could move inside at night. I was given the couch, no one told me to get off and when the other dogs came inside I didn’t even have to look up when you shouted for them to get out. I was safe and warm again in your care.

Then I had to retire from the day trips, that was initially difficult, I would bark as you drove away but could easily find my couch, then when I stopped being able to get up on the couch the padded bed was bought. This was also lovely, it was taken to the office daily and returned at night so I could sleep at your feet. I still barked when you drove off, but from the comfort of my bed, either from the bedroom or the office. I was warmed protected and loved.

I had begun to get sick and I noticed no one told me off, in fact yesterday I was found lying in it, instead of being put outside, I watched as my bed was moved to the darkest corner of the room, my blanket was freshened up and she lifted me up, bathed me with a warm hot towel and laid in my bed all the while she was telling me what a good, beautiful and wonderful dog I was. She laid on the floor for a while petting me, telling me how much I was loved and how hard I had worked for 15+ years and it was ok to join the others.

You came home and came straight into see me yesterday, you didn’t mention the vomit to me, I know you loved me as much as I loved you. I loved the fact you would pat me and make me feel safe and loved, I knew this as I passed. I know that when you buried me you carried me close to your chest, holding me gently like when I was a puppy and as a last act of love you patted me one last time.


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“Rushing Women’s Syndrome”

The buzz word in medical diagnosis currently penned by Lisa Curry ex-Kenny. (did she really get a Doctor to agree to this?) apologising for EVERY Woman IN THE WORLD for the “Rushing Women syndrome” I must state, after I read the article I can agree with her, it is a serious condition and can be contributed to the breaking up of her marriage. It must be serious as it has been reported in media sites and on twitter and something I hope we all don’t catch or perhaps as some of us know we already have it in varying degrees. It may have different strains though, For some it has full-blown symptoms 24/7 bitch which makes husbands and children leave the family home and stay away, perhaps it is the 7 days or so of PMS bitch that can cause a milder dose where they can avoid you for a week or so and things go to normal before they become symptomatic, or like a mild cold where it appears every-now and then and  everyone around you has to ‘suck it up for a while” please don’t mistake it for ‘manflu’ though, that in itself is another topic and brings its own sets of problems.

I have been to the Doctor a few times in the last couple of months and at no time have they even offered this as my diagnosis, after reading Lisa’s article I know this is what I have as well. I sat in the Dr’s clinic in a wheel chair for over 2 hours with a suspected broken ankle, the Doctor, I can assure you doesn’t have “Rushing Woman’s Syndrome” she (the Dr.) in fact seemed to have “I can’t be bothered today” syndrome and acted accordingly. I didn’t have a fractured ankle, I had a 3/4 ruptured Achilles tendon which wasn’t diagnosed from this Doctor. At the time I did this injury I can tell you with no uncertain terms I had “rushing women’s syndrome”. I happened to meet a distressed steer 3 metres from me, we faced off, he dropped his head and I turned and RAN. I ran until I hit a pothole, fell, heard and felt a ‘pop’ and continued to roll out of its way. I couldn’t weight bare and felt nauseous with pain for days (4 weeks later it is still sore) so does this count?

I know I have had “rushing women’s syndrome” when I do the house work, I hate doing the housework, so I get the vacuum out and rush through doing the floors, if I have to dust well then you can almost see the cloud as I rush to finish. I can see how Lisa is confused with her diagnosis, I too get bitchy if I have spent 3 hours doing the housework and he walks inside with muddy feet, or worse our 15 yr old Golden Retriever anciently deposits pooh on the nice clean floors and walks off. I certainly can feel the rush of anger then, my face can turn red and I can feel the ‘rushing’ of words that make my ‘potty’ mouth function.

Perhaps we need to look at it from the perspective of poor Lisa Curry ex-Kenny, she has been roasted by many women asking her not to apologise for them (as she made it a general statement for all women) I embrace it, I am going to pin it up on the fridge so that I have an excuse to be a bitch all the time. It will help me when I refuse to assist or just don’t feel like doing anything. See my “rushing women’s syndrome” is tempered by a “sleepy women’s syndrome” or “PMS Syndrome” or “I’ve taken too much on syndrome” actually if you think about it we as women know that Lisa has started the trend and it is trending on twitter, we can give ourselves syndromes to clarify all aspects of our daily lives.

I feel for Lisa Curry ex-Kenny, she must still be in love with her ex husband, she continues to try to find excuses to have broken up with him. Instead of saying we split and I regret it 3 (or so) years later, we have to hear her apologise for every woman a mistake she made in divorcing her partner. I think as a woman giving this air time is great, it start debate and makes us cringe for Lisa Curry ex-Kenny, she should keep this to herself. Only those close to her were upset when they broke up, but all marriage break ups are awful, sides are taken and people are hurt, then you have children who have to live this out in the media. I note she is no longer accompanied by the young man she was dating and doing IVF and  do feel sorry for her, with all of the joy in her life she can still find misery, or a diagnosis which seems fanciful.

Today I am apologizing for my “Rushing Women’s Syndrome” I have woken feeling like I need to start a fight with someone (sorry Lisa Curry ex-Kenny it may be you) I have the cranky pants on, it’s book work day, it’s paying accounts day, it’s raining, it’s not raining enough, it’s cold, I have pain in my ankle (still) I have many things I wish to do but am already running out of time but the highlight is I have a heater, Gatsby the cat on the desk in the inbox, Pete the Golden Retriever on his bed on the floor of my office and I am loved! it is only Monday, start of the week much more “rushing” to come this week.