What happens when you let the dog walk you?

Let's face it, I'm in love with my personal trainer.  His name is Zappa. Zappa is a dog. We're looking after Zappa and his house, while his owners are on holidays. On the first day, I took him out for a walk with my [nearly] 3 year old daughter, we went up the street about 300m crossed to the other side and headed back home. I think to myself, hey I can do this, easy. Walking the dog is just another chore for the day. And then there was yesterday.

It was just Zappa and me. He looked at me, i looked at him. I said to him,  You know what? Why don't you take me for a walk, eh? Yeah, why not let the local show me around his neighbourhood?

We set off on a brisk walk which turned into a trot as I tried to keep up with him by maintaining slack on the leash. I recognised the challenge when he looked over his shoulder from time to time  checking on me. I'm still here buddy, is this the best you got? I would taunt him back.

He took me down pathways and alleyways and we crossed roads, I totally let him decide where he wanted to take me. He would occasionally stop at some random spot and sniff around for some secret coded message from other dogs, sometimes he would leave a reply in the form of a measured squirt of pee. Later on I would wonder how much pee does the dog hold back so he can use it to leave messages?

At some point, he led me down this track that wound up in the bushes  behind people's backyards. I realised I had no idea how I got here or how I was going to get home. I started to think that maybe, letting the dog pick the route was not my brightest idea today.

Oh but it's not so bad. I cheered myself up, even if things really were to get totally fucked up, we still got GPS on my phone.

My phone! I could take pictures along the route! So took a snap of where we were and continued to let Zappa lead me through this strange labyrinth of laneways, parks, and ovals,  I wondered how many times has he walked down this path and with whom and what they saw that day.

We reached a cul-de-sac where I refused to follow when Zappa wanted to go into the private driveway of one of the houses. I was pulling the leash but Zappa stood his ground. We were at a stalemate.

Very well, how about I take a photo of this house and then we can go home? He responded to the leash after I took the photo, and now we are trotting back the way we came. When we got back through the path, we came across a footbridge leading in another direction. Tomorrow, I said to myself, we can find out where that leads to, but for now it is time to come home.

We would trot up the hill, then wait as Zappa sniffed around and stop. Sometimes he wouldn't budge until after I take a photo of whatever it was he was showing me: a flower, a tree, a sea bird what looked like a heron, another house, a black limousine with a skull ornament. As I stood panting at the crest of the last hill close to home I thought: Bloody hell, Zappa's been giving me interval training! Brilliant!

Zappa, is officially my personal trainer. I was  already looking forward to our next session.

Today we headed out the same way as yesterday. I was eagerly anticipating exploring that footbridge from yesterday. But Zappa took me a different way, this time we ended up in front of the school rather than behind it like yesterday. I was better prepared today. I'm wearing sneakers instead of those hideous Crocs.

My personal trainer is stepping it up and I'm keeping up! Past the school and across a busy 4 lane road, round the back of a community hall and boom! An off-leash play park for dogs, the size of 4 football fields. I unleashed Zappa.

Well played amigo, well played. For a brief moment I wondered what would I do if Zappa ran away? Then I put that thought away and chose to trust my trainer. He didn't really run around the field, he sniffed around and then asked for his lead back. After reattaching the lead, he refused to go anywhere,

Okay, I remember this deal, I take a photo and then we can move on. I was looking at this mountain, okay it was a hill, but it was imposing! No. I muttered to Zappa, Are you crazy? No. We're not climbing up that hill today. N. O.   No.

Sure we are, Zappa pulled me along into the trees and up a path. Up up and up. Zappa was now my Guru. I ask why must we go up the hill now? Can't we go tomorrow? He laughs and in my head he says, Because sometimes, the master feels the urge to crap on top of a mountain, and so we are going up the mountain! Be ready with your plastic bags. In my head Zappa speaks with the voice of James Earl Jones, because when it comes to epic voices, he was the first I could think of.


Okay then, if the master wants to crap on top of a mountain, he can crap on top of a f-  Whoah. I was hit with the view of Manly headlands, beaches, and suburbs, from atop Beacon Hill.

wisdom of Zappa #1 : Sometimes one feels the urge to crap on top of a mountain, Pay heed.

I understand master. There is satisfaction in setting yourself a goal and achieving it.

Hold on a moment son, we ain't on top of the mountain yet, said the voice as the dog pulled me along further up the path. Oh this isn't the top after all. We plod along upward and wham! I've been here before, in fact I stood atop that big stone slab and took pictures of the view back in January 2010. We were on Governor Philip Lookout on Beacon Hill.

wisdom of Zappa #2 : Just when you think you've achieved your goal, the real  goal appears just a little bit more out of reach, this happens more often than people think.

I took some photos, he takes me to the edge of a large boulder, I look, I take some more photos. And then I took a few moments to appreciate the amazing gift of delight and   surprise that Zappa had handed me.

When it came time to come down, I noticed that he's leading me a different way than how we had got to the real top. I recognised it eventually, it lead us to the car park.

No no no. We're not going to walk along busy 6 lane Warringah Road, I insisted.

Trust me.

Okay fine.  We set a cracking pace, jogging up the hill. I needed to catch my breath, so I pretended to stop for a photo. Amazing shots by the way.

Anyway back through the oval, stop at someone's back fence so I took a photo of their pool;  then back to the front of the school and he stops. What? Another photo? He sat on his haunches and refused to move.

Ahh okay, as I see a young woman walking her black staffordshire on the other side of the road. We observed them walk further ahead of us and I looked at Zappa. You dirty dog! Zappa stood up and started following them after they crossed to our side of the street.

Admit it, haven't I just cleverly improved our view a little bit?

We followed their bouncing bottoms, up the street, caught up and overtook them so that we're not the creepy guy following them. We parted ways near the Anglican Church.

Well what do ya know?  Zappa had shown me the valley yesterday, and today the summit.

wisdom of Zappa #3 : The summit is  worthy a goal, but in the valleys  adventure beckons.

WTF could he possibly mean? Buggered if I know.  Maybe tomorrow's session will provide  some insights.

There's this guy

I like to play this game I call "There's this guy ..." It goes like this, every time I am enjoying myself in an activity say for example eating Nutella sandwiches, I would say "There's this guy out there who grew or picked the hazelnuts that went into the Nutella factory and got turned into this sandwich I am enjoying right now. Even though I've never met him and I will never meet him but in my heart I know he exists inspite of having no evidence. This my friend is called faith.

The Phoenix

Thus all my minions have been dispatched to scour the streets of Sydney in search of my beloved car named Xena. The police patrol cars that are equipped with OCR (decodes all number plates it sees) have downloaded the database update from the RTA and will trigger an alert should they encounter AJX83L.

After five days I receive a letter in the post issuing a fine for a speed camera offence on the Hume Highway about 20kms from my home. Really? My car gets stolen, and then the thieves get caught by a speed camera and then the Roads authority send me an infringement notice?  The phrase 'salt on the wound' comes to mind. I call them back and told them I was no longer in possession of the vehicle since the night it was stolen, I give them the police incident reference number and they send me back a letter saying no infringement. But wait a moment -We may have a photo of those bloody thieves.I log in to the Roads and Maritime Service website to view the picture. It was taken at night, from the back. I can barely make out the baby seat through the rear window. It was Xena being driven fast by criminals. It made me upset and angry. I regret viewing the picture. I'd use the phrase 'lemons squeezed onto the wound'.

After nearly two weeks have passed I received word that a car had been found that looks like my beloved Xena. The brother of my daughter's boyfriend calls in the location and attached mobile phone pictures of the burnt out green WRX. The front number plate didn't match, but the empty gap of the missing rear number plate seemed to show a familiar vertical crack on the rear bumper. My gut was telling me it was Xena, but my mind was holding on to hope that maybe -that barely recognizable charred hulk was NOT my former pride and joy. So I passed the data on to the police by calling the assistance line. A short version of the conversation went thus:

me: can you please get someone to confirm the burnt abandoned vehicle is or isn't my stolen car?
operator: where is the vehicle?
me: Campaspe Avenue, Wiley Park.
operator: is there a house number or a cross street?
me: I'm telling you ALL the information I have, coudln't  you just send someone to drive on the street and find it?
operator: it's a long street and they may drive up and down without spotting it. Is it on a property or in the bush?
me: It should be fairly easy to find a burnt out car parked on the street! How many burnt out green WRXs could there possibly be on Campaspe Avenue? Are you serious? I'm giving you a lead, information to help you find a stolen car and you're not sending anyone because they may not find it?
operator: (pause) Alright sir, we're dispatching a patrol to identify the vehicle. We will be in touch with you whether it is or isn't your car. Thank you.

So apparently the car was attended to by fire and police three nights before when it was alight. They noted down the number plate which happened to also be registered to a green Subaru and recorded it as such. The patrol that returned to identify it after I called checked the VIN (vehicle identification number) on the compliance plate.

Yes.It was Xena.

I notify my insurance company, who send out an assessor to process my claim. He calls me back and declares it is a write-off and that I will receive a call from AAMI to arrange the payout. Meanwhile they're putting Xena on the back of a truck for salvage. Surprisingly I feel better telling everyone that the old warrior princess just had a viking funeral.

The sad news I broadcast to my friends on Facebook, forum and Twitter. And after seeking much sage advice we had narrowed down Xena's replacement as first and foremost a family car. So it was either going to be a Subaru Forester, Outback or Liberty Wagon. I flirted with the idea of a Toyota Prius or even a Liberty GT, but when it came time to shop this is how it went down.

I found the ad on Carsales.com.au for a 2006 Outback, I asked Beatriz to arrange an inspection. We met the owner, we looked at the car, we haggled a bit, we bought the car. My critical side was asking why we didn't look at any other car? Well, we actually had teed up appointments for the rest of the week to inspect other cars. I just didn't see the point of traveling all over Sydney just to be certain that I had the best deal possible when I already knew in my gut that I was looking at it. We cancelled those appointments.

Beatriz tells me she's in love with the car, she thinks it's sex on wheels. After eliminating some contentious names for our new transport, we agreed to christen her Divina Black.

She's stylish and capable and she just rose from the fucking ashes of Xena.

*update 20 June 2024

Major Course Correction

My car was stolen. Got out of the house to go to work and my car just wasn't there anymore. This is what it feels like when one of your imagined fears have come true. Shock.  Disbelief. Mild amusement. Still won't get me to work though.

Sure it's insured, and yes Xena was getting a little long in the tooth (yes I named my car Xena, she even had a website once). While I was filing the report with the police, they asked if there was anything of value in the car and I couldn't think of anything besides the baby seat and the stroller. These are all replaceable. Then I wondered if anything was irreplaceable? My daughter's toys. She'll never see Mona again. It was the first doll she'd named. Isn't it amazing how we can get attached to objects? My how we do love giving meaning to everything.

I reigned in my sentimentality and engaged rationality to assume command of the situation. I've been told that there are generally two types of car thieves: opportunistic and targeted. To steal my car they would have had to defeat the  immobiliser and alarm, ergo it's probably going to be used for a crime. It's very likely she's gone for good. So next step is, what should Xena's replacement be like?

I'm back to raising a family now, so same again is out of the question. I would love to have a car with eco-credentials, but they are out of our budget. So a wagon perhaps?  I would love a four wheel drive so we can feel real outdoorsy and adventurous too, but that wouldn't be economical to run. So probably a small car at least 2 litre. Maybe we can go for a zippy version like a Mazda SP20 or an Alfa 146? Or maybe just a regular Impreza for the AWD? People mover? Hatch? Sedan? 

I suppose Xena the WRX was a symbol of who I wanted to be. And for a little while, I became that person. It is now time to acknowledge I have outgrown that person. I don't have to rely on a car to define my sense of fun, adventure, and risk-taking. 

What I thought of where my life was going and the style in which I will get there seems to be resolving itself. And the next car will be a realignment with who I should be for this part of my life. 

But it would be really really incredibly awesomely cool if I get my car back.  

There's Hope for Us All

This afternoon I witnessed the dignity and decency of us humans. If you were to believe the glum news reports of crime filled streets, racism, intolerance and fear, then you would be predisposed to assume that most strangers are potential perpetrators at worst and at best one who doesn't want to get involved. But today I saw the opposite of that.

An elderly woman had fallen on the footpath near our home. We were on our way out when we noticed a small crowd of people standing around. The people were offering to help her but somehow couldn't quite figure how or how much should they really help any stranger. Bea springs into action, gets out of the car and kneels down beside the woman so that she would be at her eye level. The poor woman was confused and started having a mild panic attack. Young Greek Fellow Who Spends A Lot of Time At The Gym suggests to lay her down in the recovery position, everyone agreed. This was my first contribution, I dashed back to the car (where our Little Angel was still strapped to her child seat) and found the pillow so the woman doesn't have to lay her head on concrete.

"I fell."
"It hurts."
"It's never happened before."
"I got scared."
"I feel silly."
"I don't want to be [any] trouble."
"I'm sorry, I fell..."

She kept repeating in varying sequence.  Now this was when I thought of my second contribution.  I needed to get Little Angel out of the car because a) Looks like we're going to be here awhile; and b) a cute little toddler toddling around will help lift the energy of the crowd.Yes, I used my kid for crowd control. Go on and judge me.

I took a mental picture of what was before me:

• An old Italian woman who had fallen over.
• Two young Greek buddies who noticed it happen and came to offer help.
• Two Asian dudes (walking a cocker spaniel) who want to help but not quite sure how.
• A Filipina mestiza toddler walking about and trying to have a conversation with the dog.
• A Uruguayan offering comfort and company.

By this time Bea had connected with the woman asking her if there was someone they can call? Any family? Perhaps a friend? A sad no answer for all queries. Then it hit me, all the other dudes could have walked away and let us deal with it. Instead they lingered, and would have stayed for as long as it took to help this lady, this stranger. Then I did my last contribution of all. I made a brief speech.

Muscle Man was saying that they couldn't walk away if there was anyone who needed help, he said we have to look after each other. I then said that we should be proud to be living in this neighbourhood, where we all look after each other and help each other. When it came down to the crunch, you guys chose to be a hero and help a stranger rather than walk away and not be involved. Go Campsie!



Then it was decided that Bea accompanied the woman all the way home, everyone went their own way as soon as the lady was recovered enough to walk.  As they all walked away I called out to them and promised to greet them hello next time I see them on the street. I also made a quiet promise to say hello to people in any neighborhood.

It's great to be doing the thing that makes it cool to be a human being.

Humanity prevails.

In the Night Garden ...

As an adult watching children shows on a regular basis I have developed favourites. I've also developed disdain for some of these children's shows (I'm looking at you Mr. Moon) for a host of varying reasons. But let's stay positive and stick with just why I like shows like Timmy, Shaun the Sheep, Waybuloo, and my special favourite In the Night Garden...

When I watch them, I try to imagine what it must be like from a child's perspective. Is it colour? Shapes? Music? Snappy dialogue? Intriguing plots? What lesson does it teach?

I find I hate it when a show is too preachy. I've raised a child once and I know that preaching really doesn't work, they do what they want anyway. In the Night Garden... does not preach any moral position. It's just a story where things happen, they just happen and everything remains as it was at the start and end of each episode. Oh alright, at a stretch you can feel that washing one's face, brushing one's teeth, and getting to bed are 'encouraged' - subtly.

I also hate it when shows, children's or otherwise, are predictable. In the Night Garden is mostly predictable, but they so cleverly insert tiny deviations in an otherwise simple plot. Take for example the two vehicles. the Ninky Nonk train and the Pinky Ponk airship. Both are masters of merchandising design genius, yet beyond that they are so filled with details that will keep you watching. The train has one engine and four carriages, not all the carriages are used all the time and I found it a pleasant surprise when Iggle Piggle climbs into the single seat carriage for the first time (he usually rides in the tall carriage with Upsy Daisy); or on the Pinky Ponk where tables are set with little refreshments and you may sometimes catch the Tomliboos sipping away. Or noticing that the Pontipines live in a semi-detached house and wondering if we'll ever meet the neighbours the Wottingers. I would have loved to sit in on the production meetings for these episodes and hear how these ideas are pitched.

I also love shows that are amusing for their own sake like Timmy and Shaun the Sheep. I like the character design for Roary the Racing Car because I used to be a car nut, and I get a kick seeing how the various racing categories are represented like Nascar, F1, Rally, Drifting, and now even Aussie V8 Supercars. This is a brilliant show for ocker dads to share with their kids and build up and bond in a very masculine way that  cannot be accomplished with say Angelina Ballerina hahaha.

I can keep going with this little treatise on my fave kids TV shows but I can see I'm starting to lose the audience here. So thanks for your time, that's it.

Parenting 2.0

I've got a decent excuse for not much blogging. I've been so preoccupied with parenting duties that writing has sadly become a lower priority. Today I've made a conscious effort to use the precious relatively uninterrupted alone time I get to tap out a few keystrokes while baby Saffira has her morning nap.

It's been a good 90 minutes so far. I took care of some paperwork, cooked baby food (sweet potato, cabbage, carrot, chicken), and now this blog.

I feel like my brain is slowly turning to mush with a steady diet of kids television and just playing with a 13 month old girl. I can grab snippets of time about 5-15 minute blocks when she entertains herself. But what can I accomplish in 15 minutes? Get a load of washing on the machine -stop. Hang them on the clothesline -stop. Make a sandwich -stop. Read a news article / watch a youtube video / comment and like my friends' Facebook updates -STOP!

However, it does all accumulate. It's just not in one long contiguous block. Is this what it's like to have ADHD? I can't stay focused on a single thing for too long and it takes ages for the gray matter to warm up to a new task or thought.

What I can say is that Parenting 2.0 has allowed me to enjoy Saffira's development so much more. I no longer fret why she is taking so long to develop a particular motor skill, confident that it will all come in time. I get to enjoy her just as she is and just where she is, because once she's moved on, it's gone for good. All that's left is a memory and whatever we've uploaded to youtube. Oh drats, she's awake now, gotta go...