A Brief Introduction to Brutus & Murder

Earlier this evening I came up with a decent idea for a post about my two dogs – Brutus and Murder – but, as usual, nothing has gone to plan and I’ve run out of time to construct anything that could do justice to the topic. Of course, it is partially their fault that I don’t have time to get things done. I spent the majority of my night trying to clean up the mess that they had created for me while I was out at dinner last night – it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to go out with a friend, so I forgot to shut any of the doors in my house before I left. My dogs recently shattered my back door, so I can’t lock them out when I leave and I compromise by shutting the doors to my bedroom, the toilet and the bathroom, where their favourite things to destroy are kept, such as: makeup brushes, facial wipes, shampoo bottles, bras, pyjama pants, blankets, toilet paper, shoes, towels, sheets… I could go on. Usually when they destroy something it’s a mild inconvenience, other times it’s just plain cruel.

Like last night, for instance, when they decided to rip open my feather-down pillow. I had no idea that a feather-down pillow was so full. My entire living room is now covered in fluffy, white feathers – it looks like a Winter Wonderland scene, only infinitely more depressing. I didn’t even know where to begin with trying to clean it all up – I don’t own a vacuum, or even a real bin – and I was too tired to contemplate a more efficient solution than crawling around for what could be hours, packing fistfuls of feathers into a plastic bag. So I went to bed last night without even considering making an attempt to clean it all up, and I chose to continue to ignore it before work this morning. On the way home from work today I agreed to sell my old iPad and arranged for the buyer to come around to my place at about 7:15pm to pick it up, which worked perfectly with my routine. Then, of course, 7:15 comes and goes, and there’s no sign of them – there’s a storm forecast for tonight, and it had started raining a little by this time, so I didn’t think it unreasonable that they be a bit late. By 7:30 I still hadn’t seen them, but was sure they couldn’t be far off. I decided to kill some time and sort out my downloads, but by 7:45 they still hadn’t shown up, or text to say that they were going to be late. I had put off going for a shower until after the transaction and thanks to spending the time before our scheduled appointment cleaning up after my dogs, and this person’s complete lack of punctuality, I wasn’t able to go for a shower until 8:00. I was too exhausted to wash my hair last night, so I had to wash it tonight, which means showering takes longer, and I had wanted to straighten it as well since tomorrow is Friday and I like to feel special on Fridays. I also knew that I still had to at least post something today, or risk failing the NaBloPoMo challenge twice within the first week, and I was (and still am) determined to watch an episode or two of Parks and Recreation before bed. After all the buttfuckery of this evening I was forced to cancel/reschedule at least one of my three “tasks” for the evening, and since I refuse to fail NaBloPoMo, and I really love Parks and Rec, straightening my hair has been tentatively re-booked for tomorrow morning.

And all of this can be traced back to the fact that Brutus and Murder just can’t help but destroy everything I own and make my life as difficult as possible. And really, that’s a perfect summary of what to expect from the upcoming record of life with these two.

Did I mention that it was my only pillow?

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Journal Entry

Today has been the most ridiculous day of my entire life. I had a not-so-great night last night, but I’d gone to bed feeling optimistic that I’d get up early today and get my chores done, and be productive, and it would feel great, and I’d feel on track and capable. Instead I dragged my ass out of bed around 8:30am, got stoned, and put on the laundry. I cleaned up all of the crap my dogs have destroyed and spread across the yard over the past couple of weeks and I was feeling pretty good, despite the fact that I desperately wanted a cigarette and couldn’t have one because I’d left them at my friend’s house last night. Then, as I was hanging out the linens, my dogs – Brutus and Murder – started play-fighting, and Brutus came sprinting out the back door. Of course, Murder came barrelling behind him with zero coordination and ran into the back door. This is a common occurrence, and I always rouse on them for running in the house because Murder has no spatial awareness at all, and he crashes into everything at top speed – I don’t know how he hasn’t broken his skull yet. And just as I had always feared, Murder’s fat ass knocked the sliding, glass door off its tracks, and I watched in slow motion as the door stood for a moment, wobbled in the strong breeze, and slowly crashed forward onto the cement patio, completely shattering the top panel.

I couldn’t do anything but stand there in complete shock for a few minutes, then I finished hanging up the sheets and went to the fridge for a cider. I cleaned up the loose glass and stood the door frame back up before calling my mum and telling her about the situation. I happened to glance into my bottle at one point during our conversation and I discovered a large fruit fly had died in my drink, which was still mostly full. I continued drinking it anyway, but the more I looked at it, the more it looked like a normal fly and I just couldn’t shake that icky feeling, so I didn’t even get to finish my drink. Also, while talking to my mama I was pulling the remaining shards of glass out of the rubber seal so that they wouldn’t come loose and fall of their own accord and possibly impale one of my not-undeserving dogs. So naturally, while trying to pry free a particularly stubborn shard, my hand slides slowly down the edge, slicing open my pinky finger. It didn’t seem much deeper than a papercut, but there was quite a lot of blood, and it stung like crazy. I put a band-aid on it, because I’m a grown-up and that’s what grown-ups do, and it’s doing fine now, but I still haven’t bathed the dogs, and I really need to bath them today since we missed bath day last week and they smell like ass after a rainy week.

Ironically, I had been looking forward to spending the morning being productive, thus filling myself with inspiration to write a positive post for the first day of the NaBloPoMo challenge. In fact, just a couple of days ago I drafted a post about making a conscious effort to appreciate the positive things that happen in my life, rather than constantly cataloguing and capitalising on any slight negative. I guess I’m still working on putting that into practise, and I mean, come on, who has this many things go wrong in such a short space of time? My dogs have also destroyed a patch of carpet in the living room, which I still haven’t told the real estate about, but I don’t know how long I can go without telling them that, technically, the house doesn’t have a back door anymore. Also, I’m broke and have no way of being able to afford to fix it any time in the foreseeable future. So you can understand my succumbing to the negative and brooding over the injustice for a moment, I’m sure.

On a positive note, I have ordered a kebab feast (with my mum’s PayPal) to be delivered at 6:15 tonight. I am very much looking forward to this, I have been craving a kebab or burrito for so long. It’s been months since I had a kebab, and longer since my last burrito. I miss burritos.

Let this post stand as an example of almost everything you can expect to encounter on this blog – good intentions, inevitable sulking and self-pity, dogs ruining my life, movie-style “accidents” that would never reasonably occur in real life, food. I had hoped to come up with something much better for my first NaBloPoMo post, but I’m honestly feeling so unmotivated and disinterested now (and I’ve had some more cones and another drink), and I actually think this is a pretty fitting start to things. At least I still posted something, rather than backing out before I even start, like I do with everything else – but that’s a story for another time.

The day I saved my first animal.

I’ve always loved Wednesdays, they’re my favourite day of the week, and I’ve never really known why – maybe it’s something to do with my love of symmetry or because in senior school I always had the day off, I don’t know. I was thinking about this last night as I contemplated the distance to Friday – at least tomorrow is Wednesday, it may not be Friday but it’s my favourite day of the week, be happy, but why is it my favourite day, what do I have to look forward to about Wednesdays, it’s really just like any other week day now, and definitely not as exciting as Friday. So I went to bed expecting today to be just like every other Wednesday – get up, go to work, come home from work, be thankful that I’m another day closer to Friday. I left my house this morning to make the short journey to my bus stop expecting absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

As I turned the corner into the street that my bus stop is on I noticed a possum in the middle of the road, and it was pretty easy to determine that it was dead, even from 15 metres away. I decided to do the decent thing and move it off the road – at least it wouldn’t be squished all over the place and someone in a nearby house would see it and call the council when they opened to have it removed. I could see a little blood, but no visible signs that she’d been attacked and there were no guts hanging out, but as I carried this stiff body back to the nature strip I noticed that she had a tiny, hairless baby nuzzled into her belly. There’s an animal management centre a few streets away from where I live, my bus goes past it every day, but I didn’t think they’d let me on the bus with a dead mother possum and her hairless infant, so I called the centre instead to see if they could come pick the two up. Of course, it couldn’t be as simple as all that and I got directed through to the emergency after hours line where I described the situation to a call centre staff member and was informed that I would need to contact the RSPCA for this kind of issue. It was then that I noticed that this baby’s head was still *inside* the mother – she had died in the middle of giving birth and now I had to deal with this just-born, pink wriggler who was still attached to his mama via the umbilical cord – definitely not what I had expected on my commute to work this morning! Nothing in my life has equipped me for handling this situation, I mean I’ve seen a few nature documentaries and TV shows, and I know a little bit about the whole birthing process in general, but really not enough to make any confident decisions about medical treatment for what I *think* was a ring-tail possum? All I could do was laugh as my bus drove past and I was still kneeling on the grass, trying to keep this little dude warm, and consulting the woman on the phone about the correct action to take in this situation. In the end I was put through to the RSPCA and they dispatched an ambulance to my house where I waited with this little guy, still attached to his dead mother since I couldn’t cut the cord in case I accidentally killed him.

So it’s been an exciting day already and I have officially made my first ever animal rescue – I guess you could consider this the first day of my career as an Animal Rescue & Re-homing Specialist – and also my first blog post. What a successful day it has been so far, and only just past 11:00 am. And a prime example of subconscious and conscious thoughts manifesting within reality – I had just been discussing my goals regarding a career working with animals last night and then boom! Animal rescue emergency first thing the next day. I’m feeling very justified in my decision to pursue a different career path, and very good-samaritan-y. Welcome to my life, and I hope you enjoy the ride.