Remembering Roo

It must have been early 2007 when I travelled to Ringwood to meet him.

He was a huge Weimaraner

He had lived all his 13 years with a European Family with two little girls who loved to roll all over him , play with his big, floppy ears. He accepted this treatment unquestioningly. 

They were moving to Colorado and couldn’t take him. I‘d been put in touch by a friend of a friend called Marg who heads up a group called “Weimaraner Rescue” 

I hesitated, mumbled & grumbled about it for a week.

Thought I may not be ready for another dog.

Mardi had only died two years prior. She had been with me for 17 years. Had I grieved enough?

Marg convinced me (nagged is to strong) that I had. 

Roo was delivered, (complete with Kennel, bowl like a bucket, and a lead that could have been used to tie up ships,) a week later by a tearful hulk of a Tradie called Mundy.

He, Roo,was similar in build to Mundy at that time.   
About 10 kilos overweight.

55 Kilos. He needed to loose some weight.

We walked every night. 

Ten minute walks soon became 30 minute walks.

30 minute walks became hour walks.

Every weekend through the backstreets, lanes and parks of Brighton we would go.

A sniff there, a poke around there, a pee over there.

And Roo would do the same.

Then came the dreaded Bloat.
Bloat is an afliction that affects some breeds of dogs. They try to vomit. Their belly swells and within hours they can be dead.

A three hour operation was done by Danny and his assistant in the middle of the night at Hampton Clinic. He came home just three days later on a Friday night.

Vital organs stitched into place inside, and staples like the zipper on a tent running from upper chest to lower belly. 

On Saturday I sat beside him, fed him water and painkillers and watched.

By four pm the tough old bastard was looking for a walk. 

We got back into our walking habit very quickly. 

He came to be called other names than Roo.
Eva and Jon, my housemates called him Stinky due to his flatulence.
I called him Sunshine.

When we were walking I used to sing to him. 'Your are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy When skies are grey...'

So he became know as Sunshine.

I got a bit concerned about him sleeping outside in his kennel in the winter so I invited him in to sleep on the couch. He accepted this stoically, but probably gratefully.

One night there was a huge crash. No. A loud but dull thump really. 
Three people raced from different bedrooms to the lounge expecting Roo to have a burglar in a death grip. But no. Roo had rollen over in his sleep, fallen off the couch and, can weimaranars have sheepish looks? 
Yes they can!

Early 2008 he developed Arthritis.
Badly.

A new diet and exercise regime were required.

The walks were shorter, more frequent, less hurried.

More a meander really.

I think it was about then I began singing to him.

“Your are my Sunshine” and“Sunny side  of the Street” were his favourites

I was happy, he was happy.
He never did manage the falsetto part though.

On Tuesday night of the 10^th of June 2008 we went on our evening stroll before dinner.

We had crossed the Nepean Highway into Hurlingham Park, Meandering around the boundary line.
On the outer wing he suddenly collapsed. Legs wouldn’t hold him. He struggled to get up but to no avail. In two minutes he was gone.

I imagine it was that big heart that finally gave out. 

It was quick. It was rhopefuly painless.
He was doing what he enjoyed most with the person that loved him most.

He was a tough, but gentle dog. 

My time with Roo was great fun.

Too short but wouldn’t have missed it for Quids

You were my Sunshine.

AN ATHEIST REMEMBERS RELIGION

While I do consider myself an atheist, I find at times a certain peace, calm and strength in church.
Occasionally while in the city of Melbourne I am drawn to St. Francis Cathedral. It was the church my Mother took me to on our occasional jaunts to the 'city' when I was but a child.

We occasionally used to take the big journey by tram from East Coburg (number 19 tram) into town.
We would shop. I don't remember what for, Probably manchester, undies and the like at various shops around town.
I don't remember any of the shops except two.

The first was Foys.
It stood on the corner of Bourke and Swanston Streets, and what I clearly remember is that it was about six floors high. From the first floor to probably the fourth floor at around Christmas time there stood, on the first floor veranda, a huge Santa Claus. He was very benign and had a moving finger. It was his right finger and curled back and forth beckoning. An in an invitation to come inside the store. Which we did.
What happened inside the store I don't recall except for getting my photo taken on Santa's knee. 

The big event , as far as I was concerning was lunch at Coles penny sit-up.
Coles was of the same ilk as Foys. Cheap merchandise of all sorts. Clothes, school supplies, manchester, whatever a household needed.

The big attraction of Coles was lunch. The penny sit-up. This was a complete floor dedicated to eating.
It was noisy, vibrant, limited menu.
It catered to the working class which meant in those days of the late 50's and early 60's nearly everyone.
The counter snaked around one side of the wall with fixed benches.In the body of the room plenty of tables for two or four people.
The menu simple. There was the "blue plate special". I don't remember what that consisted of because we could never afford it so didn't read it.
I always chose the pie and sauce followed by the banana split.
Now the banana split was something special. A banana cut length ways with two scoops of ice cream, crushed nuts, chocolate topping and whipped cream. Heaven on a plate.!

Next and last stop was the long walk to St. Francis Cathedral on the corner of Elizabeth and Lonsdale Streets.
To me it was a grand piece of architecture and once inside a haven of peace even to a child of six or eight.
We would enter through the door at the rear which faced the huge alter. We would stop, genuflect, say a prayer or two until my knees hurt which wasn't long. 

We would then move on to the small alcove on the left dedicated to the Virgin Mary.
This alcove had a small stand set up with offset rows and candle holders. Small candles lay in rows at the base of the stand. One was expected to place a small donation into a slot, take a candle and light it from another light candle and pray for...well whoever. Deceased or alive. We did this on every occasion we visited the city.
I have no idea who my mother prayed for and no idea who I prayed for.

I still follow that same ritual most time I am in the city except now I know who I am praying for.
I sit in the body of the church reflecting and remembering my Mum and Dad. I think of my blessings. I look for strength.

Atheist?  Yes.
Reverent of my Mothers beliefs? Yes.
Finding calm in a fraught world in church? Yes. Most emphatically so.

Thanks Mum for introducing me to a place of reflection and peace.
Talk you tomorrow.

Beautiful Victoria Street Richmond

Diary entry, January 21st 2012

Finished applying for a position. Took three hours to write resume, cover letter and "Statement of Suitability".
 Decided to treat myself to a bowl of Pho in Victoria St.

Parked the car in the Aldi supermarket carpark and strolled to my favourite, Than Phoang. Beautiful day, hot, steamy. Chinese Spring Festival in full swing. Dragons and fireworks and young men and women from the Buddhist society blessing business's in their noisy manner.

Lovely people in Victoria Street. All those nice young men nodding and smiling at me. so friendly. Some even asked me what I was chasing. They obviously realise I can't read Chinese characters and are offering to assist with whatever it is I want to purchase. I declined their offers with good grace and continued on to my soup shop. But it restores your faith in humanity doesn't it.
Sat and ate my soup (Special Beef with with tendon) and the pretty young lady brought me ice water.
Strolled back to my car and passed the same young men smiling, winking, nodding. I smiled politely noticing they all had bad teeth and were, well, a little scruffy looking.

Asian people. So caring and helpful.