Growing old disgracefully.

So this is what 51 feels like. Honestly I barely feel a day older than 50.

We took the dogs on their first expedition to the beach and Puggle's cruciate is troubling him for it, poor baby. But oh what joy. We were all very uncertain and not at all sure if this was going to be a treat or a nasty, and a little subdued in the ute. And then... running and glee and snurfles. Puggles did too much despite our trying to keep it short. But it was their first bit of 'free' Australia, and they truly loved it.


And then we've had a day of visitors - 8 or so this morning and then writers circle this afternoon. And cake. Lots of cake. Tomorrow looks like more of the same.

The Russian Strathspey

Which is rather like Russian roulette, only with 5 chambers loaded... It goes something like this. "Step, together, step, (Bloody Cat) hop. Step, together, step, hop... CAT! step, together, step, dodgecat hop, step... glass-door sickening THUD! (unseen door because you were looking for the cat). Yes, they're a great help the beasties are. Manificent household defenders and diggers of the flowerbeds, and in the cats case the veg too. Although, to be fair the incidence of mouse problems out there has dropped. I was trying to think my way through a tricky bit of book (working on some sample chapters) and thus having a bath, which is where I do my best thinking. Like Queen Elizabeth I* I have a bath once a month whether I need it or not (you can't overdo these things, the neurons wear out) and someone - I think Sue, put a dozen eggs in the fridge. And our vicious South African banditry trained attack-dogs (about as 'really' as the monthly bath story. Labbies and Old English Sheepdogs are losers in the bite-burglar stakes. Lick them to death, maybe. More chance of Bat-cat thinking they were doing the Strathspey and killing them. I was lucky not to emerge dripping from the bath to find someone face down in a dozen eggs. Come to think of it, they were lucky too :-)) cheerfully slept through it.

It's been odd to have a lot of my preconceptions swept away with this move. I was for instance sure the cats would take it hard. I was very worried about them ever being re-homeable with anyone else, which was why they ended up coming. I believe if you take on a pet you do your best for its benefit - what your dog would do for you. Which is expensive and difficult, but that's the compact between us. Anyway, having been indoor-outdoor cats on a farm (and therefore not ready to adapt to town and traffic)and used to almost constantly having human-servants on call finding somewhere/someone suitable was near impossible. I thought the quarantine process might severely traumatise them, as they've never been confined and never not had people, basically 24/7. They'd never been to a cattery since they adopted us (Bat and Robin came from the Vet just short of being put down as kittens) and Duchess from the SPCA) so yes, as little, rather miserable things they had been confined. The dogs have all had short vet sojourns in Kennels and besides, dogs are faithful... Well, actually, there is no doubt that the dogs are still a little traumatised. A bit more insecure and very needy - and the position of boss-dog (vis-a-vis Roland and Puggles) has become less certain again. The cats seem to have largely forgotten the extent of their old kingdom and be happy as larry with with lots of fresh fish and squid, and plenty of mice about, familiar furniture and some new hideholes (Robin insists on having cupboards opened for her). If anything Robin is a little more confident and outgoing with strangers. The dogs - who had two and a half acres of lawns trees and a stream - find this quite small and comparitively dull. Not that they 're unhappy or don't have us around and don't get fussed, but they are still, shall we say, disturbed. I think they'll work through it, but actually our cats seem to have come through more easily. Still, loyalty is important and we've kept the faith. I don't think they would have re-homed (especially Roly), and they would be miserable as town dogs, or see-you-after-work dogs. So: give it time and lots of petting and cuddles, and maybe more space one of these days (this garden is probably half an acre and there are trees and bushes and sheds. It's just not quite Finnegan's Wake. We're being very cautious about taking them out -- it's just not wise to have them even tempted to 'break out' for a walkabout so they only go out by car - which is a mission. Anyway, we'll get there. If I live through practicing the Strathspey on the way to the 'loo.
*not Victoria, I am informed.

Tired but here

Well, the settling process has inevitably been a little hard. The Animals I will say are all universally pleased to be here, and delighted to be with us. And I think understandably a little insecure, although despite all the horror stories they seem to be OKay so far (and I was told by several people that cats just don't do quarantine - ours seems to remember us and quite frankly be less traumatised than the dogs. They all do need a lot of attention, but are straight back into their old ways... well, all needing a scratch or notice on average every thirty seconds, which I hope will slack off soon. Last night was restless in the extreme with Roly just not settling. I've had about 2 hours sleep which hasn't helped the book finish. And we've had sets of dog-and-cat visitors all day. We went to the winter Solstice Scottish dancing/ singing do last night (not the night I would have chosen. Can't these celestial bodies show ANY consideration?), which was... energetic (just to watch!) Fun too. James stayed in and fire/cat/dog sat, and shortly after we got in, we discovered Robin-cat was missing. Frantic inside and out search ensued.
HUH. Madamoiselle had decided to sleep INSIDE the cupboard and now that she was comfortable, was not coming when called (that seems to be the main difference - which won't last - the cats now come when called. The right cat to right name. Bizarre!).

Little Robin-cat was admittedly so appreciative of liberty and people and above all CARPET she was actually doing the tail quiver. Bat (once he'd punished us - about 2 hours) was doing the leg-weave, and climbing up your legs. La Duchesse was rising up and head butting. All she wants to do is sleep ON people, Barbs being first prize. Poor B had all 3 on top of her this evening. I am of course a bad man, because I won't have them on the table while I am cooking.

Dogs... well Pugsley says it is really time he was boss dog and he hasn't had to share space with anyone for a while. Wednesday is being smarmy goody-two-shoes (as if I could be fooled). And Roly, is well, Roly. Happiest when sitting on you.

Poor baby, he is very thin. But they're all so obviously happy to be home, to be loved

Oh and they are determined NOT to be left behind ever again. Paddy was trying to lift James's bicycle out of the truck - and 3 dogs and bicycle was probably even funnier than 3 men and boat.

The red flag flying there.

No, before you even ask. THERE ARE NO PHOTOGRAPHS. I'm not that tired of life. When, like me you've been married for a long time to a woman of strong will (she has to be, she's still married to me) and arm (she has to have. She has a strong will and she's married to me, and I do daft things. 'Anything I can do she can do better (I can do better than you :-))'. This includes use a chainsaw - do you understand 'respect and no photographs' fully now? Do you understand my favourite character in Rats, Bats an Vats better now? If you haven't read it, you should. It's available at the Baen Free Library.)

What's all this about then? Well, it's our dogs and cats, but mostly the dogs. We suddenly realised this morning that 1)Paddy is as sick as a horse, and needed to go to the doctor (done and on antibiotics) -- he's got his mother's AND my obstinacy. getting this done was no small feat. 2) The Doggins get out of quarantine on Monday. And we haven't sorted out the fence yet. I've been too busy with the book. So B and I went on a very expensive mission to Elders to buy a gate and wire and posts (there is a 20 foot section that needs fencing and a gate, where the driveway comes in.)The one downside is our double-cab ute does not have a very long bin, and we wanted a 12 foot gate - which protruded. We tied it in place safely. So the youngster at Elders says 'have you got something to tie on the back? Which of course we didn't have. And our local police have been stopping cars at the intersection going out of town.

But B is wearing red trousers. So she says "Is there a law that says you have to wear pants when driving?"

The youngster's jaw gets gravel rash. I think he'd never quite dealt with luntatics like these South Africans anyway... "Er. No."

"Good," says B, and gets into the cab. The youth gets the picture... well the idea anyway, and disappears with terrifying speed. I know better than to argue, collect bright red cords and give B my jacket as a sort of skirt. Attach trousers firmly to the gate, and we trundle the couple of klicks home in the blue slug (a nudibranch for those of you who get Zoological jokes), not meeting any black-and-white uniformed folk, unless you count the Magpies. They always make that laughing noise.

And B and her trousers are re-united and James and I dig the new hole to the centre of the earth - or close anyway. Little fellows in red pyjamas kept climbing out of the hole. If they'd showed up earlier we could have hung them on the gate.

Some small fiendish part of me does however have this mental image of the large cop from Lady Barron first leaning into the driver's window, and then saying "would you mind getting out of the car?"

Kolskoot!

Which means bulls-eye... or more directly shooting the spot. Time and tide were more or less right tonight and we went down to see if we could get some more squid -- B was netting the third one of the evening getting quite blasé about her skill at avoiding the squirts of water or ink... when it did not work as planned. My stocks and shares in the marriage stakes are fairly low right now because I couldn't help laughing. It got her neatly between the legs, with a big inky-wet splurt. Very cold and very inky. Some serious be nice to B effort is called for, I think.

I've thought about Roly - quite a lot - and have decided I'll contact the quarantine kennel in the morning to check how he is eating, and if I can send the old boy a smell-o-gram (say a sweaty t-shirt, smelling of dad) and some other treats. Doing something is better than just worrying.

And now to Galata (historic fortress across the Golden Horn from Constantinople) again.

cracker night

I'm a worried about my Roly Boy - he's lost a lot of weight apparently. I had a chat to the vet in Sydney tonight. He's fine otherwise as far as he can see, just very thin. I so want to see him and check him out myself - but even if I could afford to, I think it would break his big doggy heart to see me and have me leave. Oh how I wish I could explain. I am heartsore and worried again.

Anyway, it was the last cracker night tonight SES fundraiser at which the old flares are let off along with some fireworks - apparently firework rules are changing and they won't be able to do it again. New public liability rules or something. I do wonder if anyone in big city ever thinks how all these petty rules (it's the rescue guys and fire service doing this display not arb people) impact small communities. Literally half the island (or of those under 70) must have been there, kids running around together, having fun. Half the island would be maybe 300 people - which by city standards isn't even a shopping-mall crowd. It was... very warming to have a fair number of people talk to us, greet us.

Anyway, I'm a bit too down and worried to write chatty and amusing blog posts tonight, so I'll go back to trying to write a rather grizzly murder scene in the current book

Doggy blue (means 'fight'?)

Well, doggy updates -- they are in Sydney. And Wednesday and Puggles had a 'blue' and both needed to be checked out by a vet. Ah well. They're all fine. Expensive but fine.

We've had a couple of sets of visitors today. The 'drop in' is something we miss a bit, but maybe we're starting to get there. We had young Jeremy and his son Harry this evening(who is the sort of toddler that could encourage childless couples to have 6. Good natured, friendly, easy going and bright.) B and I are fond of kids anyway, so we did the pre-grandparent turn-to-goo.

The olives are all bottled and labelled and put in the back dark corner. They're in strong herbed brine, and should spend at least a couple of weeks in that before we possibly re-brine (less concentrated salt) or transfer into olive oil and vinegar/lemon and/or various aromatics. Now is the hardest part of the process - waiting to see if it all worked out. We have to wait at least a week before trying them.

We did a big freezer clean-out/ sort with the two secondhand wire baskets we bought - the freezer is full. We're doing our best not to overstep any of the fisheries regs with forgotten stuff in corners. Of course some like squid is just damned awkward. We divide squid into tentacles, tubes and wings. Wings are mostly for bait, and the others are cut into serving amounts. So Barbs's battle mother is in 7 bags. (3 tube, 2 tentacle, 2 wing). They're all dated, but not all together. We're supposed to have a personal possession limit of 15. So... 15 what? At the moment we're using bait slowly, because we have our near our quota of wrasse, and we haven't been after flathead for a while. I'm sure we have less than 15 tubes(I'm not even sure that's 15 each -which makes sense or 15 total - which doesn't, but we try and abide by). I'm still a Fisheries Scientist at heart and try and keep to the rules. They're not really designed around (or for) people like us. Gee. What a surprise. We don't fit again.

I've started drying some bunches of herbs against the cold killing off our stock. I need to take Quilly's advice and move some indoors or at least into shelter next to the house... but well, writing, visitors. There is a finite amount of time - speaking of which, back to work. Vet bills to pay :-(

Dog and cat days

The fur-kids should be flying out from South Africa today, to do their last month in quarantine in Sydney. We have missed them terribly (to the point where I hate seeing the pictures because it hurts.) I can't explain to them what we've done. To them Finnegan's Wake must have seemed like dog and cat heaven. I still worry about whether we've done the right thing for them. They were all 'awkward' to re-home -- whether quarantine before coming back has been kinder, I don't know. Well I do know for Roly.

He's a one-man Old English Sheepdog. I just hope the old boy is OKay (the kennels say so)They say dogs resemble their owners and vice versa, and he's hairy, dumb and very loyal. He was actually born onto my lap, and I can't wait to let him sit on it again (yes he has grown a little, but not in his mind)

Puggles (the golden boy at the top is happy-go-lucky) but his sister Wednesday is a problem-child.



And our cats I worry most about. They're all rescues and let's be frank were a little screwball to start. But we decided on this ruinously expensive excercise(and thank you again to all of those who helped with the SAVE THE DRAGONS project - which raised 2/5 of this.) because we thought it was what we would have wanted them to do for us. And we love them very much. I just hope they come through Okay.

leaving KZN

Well, the next stage in our drawn out departure today. We leave Kwa-Zulu Natal – the province I was born in and have lived most of my life in, where the family rock came from (remember thhe family rock) and where most of our family and friends still live. We went to Gnomie's wake yesterday, (the brother of one of the infamous lemmings (Carl, Brian Shuttleworth and myself – who at the least sign from any other lemming would hurtle to sea and plunge into it, or possibly fling ourselves collectively at cliffs -- diving and climbing partners). Gnomie lived life, diving, climbing, ski-ing laughing... He didn't just pass through it. Cheers. Half the Mountain Club and half the Durban Underwater Club were there, dragged in from all over, people I haven't seen for years. Ach, we'll have to set up a dying roster so we get see each other more often. And I got to watch a certain woman put her pet budgie in her handbag, where it did not wish to go. It expressed this sentiment in the same way pigeons express their fondness of statues. I hope she looks at her cell-phone before putting it to her ear.

Anyway, now it's farewell to Blue and Magic (Great Dane and black cat I have using as surrogates for Roly Puggles and Wensie, and Duchie, Bat and Robin...) it's nice to be abused by a cat again. And farewell to Carl and Gail and my nephew and neice. Sigh. At least there is skype and e-mail – which I wish I had for the dogs and cats.

Our animals

We have just received these pictures of our pets in their kennels sent by Mark at Paws-Resort! It is so great to see them happy and smiling (Panting?)

Put the cockrel under a creel...

Because in theory it is Sunday. Some of the Medusa list is done. Some isn't. I slow roasted a leg of bushpig (the real thing, shot next door, not the Australian version - yes I DO know what that is) in a lot of red wine, sherry, herbs and black cherry juice. I served it with an unmentionable pasta :-). Very appropriate. The doggins got a huge helping, and Wednesday said it was just so delish, she had her feet up on the table when I was watching (yes, she's a bandit. And a thief. I still love her.) The kittties are being very clingy for independent minded beasties. I wish, desperately, that I could speak dog and cat and explain to the furkids that, far from abandoning them, we've moved heaven and earth and a good few bits between to be able to take them to the Island. Ah well. It is. And that is the way it must be. Our hearts go with them, always. That is why we have done this.

It's turned cold, damp and miserable, and the paint I have put on things is not drying... Also I am about 1/3 through the manuscript cupboard (tricky - do not throw out anything that may not exist on paper (sold) or only sold electronically.). I have roughly one and a half cubes of paper to go through... Yes, actually I do write a lot. Maybe too much.

Our visitors were sweet, and rather welcome by that stage... Told us they were envious of our adventure. Um. Right now it feels more like a runaway trainwreck.

Oh and B got stung on the cheek by a bee, as a parting gesture. Gee, thanks.

I went through my clothes and did manage to throw out a few things... I really am fery, fery, fery 'careful' about clothes. I hate throwing away something that has some use in it. It's a good thing I am not the vain kind - because I don't declare clothes 'dead' until any self-respecting scarecrow would turn up his nose at them.

B and I were sorting out wetsuits - she actually got into the custom-made one I bought her before Paddy was born - OK it took a wee bit of wiggling and some determined shoving and pulling - but my word, that's quite something. It'd take a shoe-horn to get me into my wedding suit. Must be all the muscle being married has put onto me... around the waist. ;-)

The far pavilions...

We finally got the house-sale money and B spent forever on the Bank arranging the transfers to Pets-en-transit (So far the best company I have ever dealt with, period) and the SA quarantine station (Paws resort! - I spoke to the boss, and he sounds a good guy). Thanks to Save the Dragons http://www.savethedragons.nu/- the project Walt talked me into braving (and it was braving -it's not the sort of thing I do easily. My dogs and cats are my responsibility, and, um, I am the sort who takes these things seriously. Not being able to take them was absolutely tearing me apart. As is... it's still really costing us more than we can afford, but we may be poorer in money, we're richer in love and self-respect. And, come hell or high water, those that bought into Save the Dragons and gave us $25 or more WILL get their signed books.) which has raised about half the money we need for this bit of insanity. But I would rather be insane, and my B goes along with it. I'm a lucky man.

Other than that the rock 3 coats of sealer, I finished repairing the door to the corner cupboard. B painted her old desk, and I scrubbed (with sandpaper, wire brush on a drill, and cleaned and painted some tools and have made an inneffectual start on my office. You can see wood in some places on my desk. Honestly ;-)

Tomorrow is so full of list it may explode. And people who have waited 8 years to visit Finnegan's Wake... are coming to visit.

Hope they like chaos.

Against the tide

Let's see... After a poor night in a much smaller bed occupied by 16 cats (or maybe 32), I started my day with a letter fro Baen with more Proof-reading (SLOW TRAIN TO ARCTURUS, the paperback) - in the middle of our move - I took Wednesday (black lab) in to get her teeth done. Then I went out to the rabbit warders, who were robbed last night, and then I went home. En route the truck (the unsold one, that we need the money from) died. My cell-phone is a pay-as-you-go one - and I plz call me's set up by my cell literate clever son... only I adopted my sister's old phone - with my sim and no clever set ups... and I was out of money in the middle of nowhere (it could be worse in SA). I made various failed attempts to message and contact anyone. Anyway 3/4 of an hour later, just as I was setting out for the 18km walk, someone happened along and I was able to call B. Needless to say after that cars came in quick succession. B came and fetched (and was off to drop one last load of firewood, and to send a fax authorising the lawyers to pay the movers, as surprise-surprise, the money has not yet arrived with B) so I went along - and met the guy coming to buy my dad's old woodworking machine off me. He was something of a mechanic so we went back to the truck and he diagnosed water in the diesel. We got it going... for some 7 or so Km. and it died again. He gave me a lift home. I sold him the machine, and he left - and then I hopefully sorted out the quote for moving dogs and cats - if it is all in and OKay tomorrow... (which given the rate of disasters... If not, Pets-en-transit are my heroes) B went and fetched Wednesday, and I got the burglar guard we need off to get my table out, unscrewed, some metalwork sorted and cleaned for packing.

The post brings me a notice saying I have to get a new drivers licence - they're moving everyone expensively (for us) onto a third system now, and they are doing F... which means my licence will expire 7 days before we leave.

The mechanic called, to say he was lost, and then the woman from Elliots (the movers) called to fuss about payment. Now they need to be paid the day before moving and as that's a Sunday, so they want payment on Friday - tomorrow. The money has arrived with the lawyers, but not us yet, so the lawyers are supposed to pay them. They haven't although Elliots seem to have trouble telling Friday from Thursday) then B got back with Wednesday (the excercise of vaccinating and microchipping and teeth cleaning cost neatly twice what I got in for selling off the old machine...) The guy from the workshop came out and changed the diesel filter and said it was running a bit rough, but all good... It got me to our gate. It's not just water in the diesel.

So then a guy arrived to buy the vehicle -- which is now stuffed.

And our son Pads called to say he had to be back at Uni even earlier, as he is now head student for his res. (ergo, we will have to change bookings on 3 flights - an expensive process.)

Anyway, that was my day. If the dogs and cats are finally sorted it sort of cancels all that (and I wait for Murphy's law to screw that over), but I reckon a thirty thousand rand day. Not one of the best.

Tomorrow we try to tow the truck in, and scrub and seal the family rock, and the rest of the list.... I wish I had the patience and tolerance of the rock.

A sad parting and microchips (where is the macrofish then)

It's been another tough day. Before you think this blog too bleak and whingy to bother with, fill your mind with the mental image of Barbs and I trying to insert 4 cats into two containers. Yes we have the blood and wounds to prove it. I know you're all frightfully clever and have already worked out that this is a ridiculously, insanely stupid thing to try and do, because both cats need to go in at the same time, and 2 pairs of hands need to come out, sans the cat/s. It took us about 3 tries for each catbox... and of course two 'phone calls mid frantic cat persuit and insertions...
"Oh Dave, I didn't want to call when I heard you were leaving..."
Dave - holding cat with buzz-saw legs. "Jenn, I am wrestling with a very angry cat... can I call you (MEEOWWWWW HISSS YOWL)."
"But I just have to chat to you..."

Anyway mission accomplished, 4 cats injected, 3 microchipped (at James's request his cat is staying here with his best friends who he will spend his short holidays with. Hard... But Legsie may be better off, and will be spoiled, I think) Three dogs microchipped injected and inspected.

And sadly we have had to send my little Button to the long sleep. She was very very old, blind (needed a seeing eye human) deaf, senile (she used to know her way everywhere) and the last few nights has been struggling for breath. We always said that when she was in distress, we would call it time. Two years ago, she was supposedly on death's door. It was still very hard.
I held her in my arms, B stroked her and the vet helped her to the rainbow bridge.

Sigh. Salute to a loyal little brave heart. Why do we give our hearts to our dogs to tear?

Tomorrow hopefully we will finalise the details of the dogs and cat's quarantine. Roland despite his age passed his medical exam. Despite the Savethedragons.nu project (without which it would simply not have been possible) we will be hit financially terribly hard by this (sadly this particular author fits the starving in a garret and not much financial acumen mold). Still, more money we can maybe make (or not). But I think if we had not tried to do this, I would have lost far more. So we go forward... poorer, but still ourselves.

Today is the 11 of 11th... Rememberance day, which is all but dead here. Well, my parents both served, and so did B's. Salute. To the living and our dead. The sun will never set on them.

dogs and cats and quarantine

I've been very reluctant to post about our dogs and cats despite the fact that they're our stay-at-home stand-in kids providing much of the amusement of country life, to say nothing of affection (and mud. And shed fur) Moving them is difficult and very expensive because of the quarantine issue. They're not easy to re-home being country animals used to having 3-4 acres of garden, and of course humans on tap 24/7. I've always got at least one with me... but the costs are extortionate, and authors are classic starving artists :-(. It was tearing me apart. But we just couldn't do it. (there is a breakdown of the costs on Save The Dragons in the FAQ). Anyway thanks to Walt and Francis we managed to make some kind of plan - to sell one of my books on the net to try and bridge PART the gap. (it's a huge gap) and thus http://www.savethedragons.nu/ was born. And of of course more ulcer-material because there is nothing like hope to make you afraid. I love them - especially my big Old English Sheepdog, very much (actually, all of them. But he was born on my lap). Anyway - we're about 3/4 of the way there - enough to trust that we'll scrape in the rest, somehow. It's making us a lot poorer (lets' put it this way, we could fly our family over and back 5 times for the cost of moving them) But has meant leaving everything very late and worrying a lot. It's going to be hard sending them into quarantine and you can't explain. Sad too, as Buttons (my 18 year old somewhat senile maltese) can't go. She's been on death's door, but not in distress for some time. Last night however she was struggling to breathe. It has always been our decision that if she was in distress, we'd call time. I think it is very close now. Legsie (my son's cat) will stay with his friends with whom he will spend holidays, so another farewell. Still, they give us their loyalty and love: what would we be worth is we did not try to do as much?