Category: Photography

A new dawn

Literally.

Three photos taken early last Tuesday morning from our rear deck at home; the deck faces East and Mount Sexton is to the left in the last photo.

NB: While the images recorded by the camera have been cropped no other changes, such as amending the highlights or brightness, have been made.

Taken at 05:55 PDT on the 31st July, 2018

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Taken at 05:56 PDT on the 31st July, 2018

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Taken at 05:56 PDT on the 31st July, 2018. That is the summit of nearby Mount Sexton on the LHS.

Getting to know oneself

The journey inwards is the most challenging and yet the most rewarding of all!

This post is essentially a reposting of an item that I published nearly three years ago. It came to me as a result of some delightful exchanges following my post last Thursday: How well our dogs read us!

Tomorrow I will go into more details of that fateful event in my past:  December 20th, 1956.

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Further musings on dogs, women and men.

Published on Learning from Dogs, August 6th, 2015

A few weeks ago, I read a book entitled The Republican Brain written by Chris Mooney and to quote WikiPedia:

The Republican Brain: The Science of Why They Deny Science — and Reality is a book by the journalist Chris Mooney that is about the psychological basis for many Republicans’ rejection of mainstream scientific theories, as well as theories of economics and history.

On page 83, Chris Mooney writes (my emphasis):

Here also arises a chief liberal weakness, in Lakoff’s view (*), and one that is probably amplified by academic training. Call it the Condorcet handicap, or the Enlightenment syndrome. Either way, it will sound very familiar: Constantly trying to use factual and reasoned arguments to make the world better and being amazed to find even though these arguments are sound, well-researched, and supported, they are disregarded, or even actively attacked by conservatives.

When glimpsed from a bird’s eye view, all the morality research that we’re surveying is broadly consistent. It once again reinforces the idea that there are deep differences between liberals and conservatives – differences that are operating, in many cases, beneath the level of conscious awareness, and that ultimately must be rooted in the brain.

(*) George Lakoff, Berkeley Cognitive Linguist and author of the book Moral Politics.

What Chris Mooney is proposing is that the difference between liberals and conservatives could be genetically rooted, at least in part.

That underlines in my mind how each of us, before even considering our gender differences, is truly a complex mix of ‘nature and nurture’ with countless numbers of permutations resulting.

That there are deep differences, apart from the obvious ones, between man and woman goes without saying. In earlier times, these differences were essential in us humans achieving so much and leading to, in the words of Yuval Noah Harari from yesterday’s post., ” … few would disagree that humans dominate planet Earth; we’ve spread to every continent, and our actions determine the fate of other animals (and possibly Earth itself).”

Speaking of earlier times, let me turn to dogs, for it is pertinent to my post, and I would like to quote an extract from what Doctor of Veterinarian Medicine, Jim Goodbrod, writes in the foreword of my forthcoming book:

But what exactly is this human-dog bond and why do we feel such an affinity for this species above all others? My feeling is that it may be associated with our deep but subconscious longing for that age of simple innocence and innate human goodness that we supposedly possessed before we became truly “human”: that child-like innocence or what Rousseau referred to as the “noble savage”, before being corrupted by civilization, before we were booted out of the Garden of Eden. We humans, for better or worse, somewhere along that evolutionary road acquired consciousness or so-called human nature and with it we lost that innocence. What we gained were those marvelous qualities that make us uniquely human: a sense of self-awareness, an innate moral and ethical code, the ability to contemplate our own existence and mortality, and our place in the universe. We gained the ability to think abstract thoughts and the intellectual power to unravel many of the mysteries of the universe. Because of that acquired consciousness and humans’ creative and imaginative mind we have produced the likes of Shakespeare, Mozart, and Einstein. We have peered deep into outer space, deciphered the genetic code, eradicated deadly diseases, probed the bizarre inner world of the atom, and accomplished thousands of other intellectual feats that hitherto would not have been possible without the evolution of our incredible brain and the consciousness with which it is equipped.

No other living species on this planet before or since has developed this massive intellectual power. But this consciousness was attained at what cost? Despite all the amazing accomplishments of the human race, we are the only species that repeatedly commits genocide and wages war against ourselves over political ideology, geographic boundaries, or religious superstition. We are capable of justifying the suffering and death of fellow human beings over rights to a shiny gold metal or a black oily liquid that powers our cars. We are the only species that has the capability to destroy our own planet, our only home in this vast universe, by either nuclear warfare, or more insidiously by environmental contamination on a global scale. Was it worth it? No matter what your or my opinion may be, Pandora’s Box has been opened and we cannot put the lid back on.

What can we do now to reverse this trend and help improve the quality of life for humanity and ensure the well-being of our planet? I think, if we recognize the problem and look very critically at ourselves as a unique species with awesome powers to do both good and bad, and put our collective minds to the task, it may be possible to retrieve some of the qualities of that innocence lost, without losing all that we have gained.

Dogs represent to me that innocence lost. Their emotions are pure. They live in the present. They do not suffer existential angst over who or what they are. They do not covet material wealth. They offer us unconditional love and devotion. Although they certainly have not reached the great heights of intellectual achievement of us humans (I know for a fact that this is true after having lived with a Labrador retriever for several years), at the same time they have not sunk to the depths of depravity to which we are susceptible. It could be argued that I am being overly anthropomorphic, or that dogs are simply mentally incapable of these thoughts. But nevertheless, metaphorically or otherwise, I believe that dogs demonstrate a simple and uncorrupted approach to life from which we all could benefit. I think the crux of Paul’s thesis is that, within the confines and limitations of our human consciousness, we can (and should) metaphorically view the integrity of the dog as a template for human behavior.

“Dogs demonstrate a simple and uncorrupted approach to life …”

I closed yesterday’s post with these words, “It is my contention that humankind’s evolution, our ability to “cooperate flexibly in large numbers”, is rooted in the gender differences between man and woman.”

The premise behind that proposition is that until, say one hundred years ago, give or take, that co-operation between large numbers of humans was critically important in so many areas: health; science; medicine; physics; exploration; outer space and more. (And whether one likes it or not: wars.)  My proposition is that it is predominantly men who have been the ‘shakers and movers’ in these areas. Of course not exclusively, far from it, just saying that so many advances in society are more likely to have been led by men.

But (and you sensed a ‘but’ coming up, perhaps) these present times call for a different type of man. A man who is less the rational thinker, wanting to set the pace, and more a man capable of expressing his fears, exploring his feelings, defining his fear of failure, and more. I don’t know about you but when I read Raúl Ilargi Meijer words from yesterday, “And if and when we resort to only rational terms to define ourselves, as well as our world and the societies we create in that world, we can only fail.”, it was the male of our species that was in my mind. As in, “And if and when we [males] resort to only rational terms to define ourselves …”.

Staying with Raúl Meijer’s words from yesterday (my emphasis), “And those should never be defined by economists or lawyers or politicians, but by the people themselves. A social contract needs to be set up by everyone involved, and with everyone’s consent.”

Dogs demonstrate a simple and uncorrupted approach to life but that doesn’t extend to them making social contracts. Women do understand social contracts, they are predominantly caring, social humans. Less so for men. But for that social contract to be successfully set up by everyone it must, of course, include men. And that requires men, speaking generally you realise, to find safe ways to get in touch with their feelings, to tap into their emotional intelligence, using positive psychology to listen to their feelings and know the truth of what they and their loved ones need to guarantee a better future. What they need in terms of emotional and behavioural change. And, if I may say, sensing when they might need the support of subject experts to embed and sustain those behavioural changes.

It was the fickle finger of fate that led me to the arms, metaphorically speaking, of a core process psychotherapist back in Devon in the first half of 2007. That counselling relationship that revealed a deeply hidden aspect of my consciousness: a fear of rejection that I had had since December, 1956. That finger of fate that took me to Mexico for Christmas 2007 and me meeting Jean and all her dogs. That finger of fate that pointed me to the happiest years of my life and a love between Jeannie and me that I could hitherto never ever have imagined.

However, as much as I love and trust Jean, wholeheartedly, it comes back to dogs.

For when I curl up and wrap myself around a dog and sense that pure unconditional love coming back to me, I have access to my inner feelings, my inner joys and fears, in a way unmatched by anything else.

Where learning from dogs is a gateway to learning from me.

Pharaoh – more than just a dog!

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I will never be able to look at those eyes of Pharaoh, looking into my eyes, without feeling terrible pangs of loss. For he was the most amazing, the most wise, the most deep-thinking dog that I have ever known. Correction: that Jean and I have ever known!

My Heart Dog

A guest post from Terri DeVore

You will just love this story about Terri and Zero.

Enough said!

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My Heart Dog

So what is a “heart dog”? I have heard this saying in the past and was never sure of exactly what it meant. I found a great description and definition from the site Jenna and Snickers. Here is what she writes…

“In my opinion, your heart dog is that once in a lifetime – maybe twice if you’re truly blessed – soul mate dog. He or she is the one you click with similarly to, but different from, how people in love click. There’s an understanding, a bond stronger than most, and a special level of communication. Your heart dog “gets” you and you get him or her right back.”

This is so me and Zero! I have had a couple of dogs in the past when I was growing up, but none have been my dog … my heart dog … like Zero has.

So how did I end up with this amazing dog in my life?

When my son ,Dylan, was younger he started going through that phase of wanting a little brother or a sister. Well, since I wasn’t even dating at the time, I knew that wasn’t going to happen so I figured it was time for a dog!
Side Note: I often joke that if I had the dog first, I might not have had the kid. I mean, if I tell Zero to sit, she just sits…right then…no questions, no complaining, no whining, she just does it. So much easier! LOL

We found Zero at our local Humane Society. She was just under a year and a half old and had been picked up as a stray so they didn’t know anything about her. When we got her out of her kennel and into the big yard so we could see her more, she hardly even came over to us. There was just something about her, though, and we knew she was the one.
We brought her home and the next day when we took her to the vet, learned that she had heart worms…bad. My mom reminded me that the humane society said they would take her back if it was within 72 hours but I just couldn’t do that. First, I was afraid nobody else would adopt her knowing she had heart worms, and second, she was my dog. Like we already totally bonded and I just knew she was my dog.
Long story short, we put her though the pretty intensive heart worm treatment, killed all those little buggers off and she was healthy!

We also learned that she was a pretty fearful dog…scared of so much. She would not walk up the stairs to our apartment so I had to carry her up and down for about a month until we finally coaxed her to walk up and down the entire flight by herself. She had no idea what the TV was and would hide behind my chair whenever it was on. She had no idea how to play with toys. When I would try to teach her fetch and I would throw the ball she would just look at me like, “well, that was stupid…why did you do that?. She had no idea of anything.

To help socialize her more and build her confidence, we put her in agility with Dylan as the handler. They did great! He was about nine at the time and they even competed and won a couple of times! After that she continued to blossom. She learned how to play with toys, learned a ton of commands (she’s so super smart!) and she even got her CGC (Canine Good Citizen) certificate.

It was so great seeing her come out of her shell and watch her confidence grow. Also during this time she was becoming closer and closer to Dylan and I. We were her pack and she was not happy unless we were all together. In fact, when Dylan would run her in agility trials, I would have to go hide because if she saw me she would stop in the middle of her run and charge over to me. Same would happen if I ran her…she would have to search for Dylan. She likes it when all three of us are together.

Now she is thirteen years old and still going strong. The vet even told me at Zero’s last check up that she can’t believe Zero is thirteen and would never guess she was that old by looking at her. She “checks out” to appear much younger. That is 100% okay with me. I have already told Zero she cannot get any older and she must live forever.

She truly is my heart dog. We just know what the other one is thinking. We have our routine, our habits, and our quirks. She loves me unconditionally and I love her back just the same.

Zero Facts:

What type of breed is she? I don’t know for sure. Someone asked me once if she was a kelpie. I had not even heard of that breed before so I looked it up and found pictures online that I could swear were Zero! So, by looks alone yes, I would think she is kelpie. What do you think?

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Of course, I was interested in Terri’s background and this what she wrote me:

As far as my background…had many jobs in the past but the longest was most recent when I worked as a personal trainer. I was in the fitness industry for about 10 years. Got a little burned out and was trying to figure out what’s next. Knew I wanted to roam and when my son moved out I figured now is the time, so I started planning.  Zero and I will be taking off in mid-August to roam and explore the US in my Honda Civic and a tent.  Can’t wait!!

Plus Terri explained how Zero took on that name:

One of our favorite movies at the times was ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ (I still jam out to that soundtrack #soGood). The main character (Jack Skellington) has a dog named…yep…you guessed it…Zero.

With Terri going on to add the commands and tricks that Zero has learnt.

Sit
Stay
Bang aka Play Dead
Be a bear (stands up on back feet)
Be sneaky (crawls with her belly on the floor)
Shake Hands
High Five
Roll Over
Here (Runs to me and sits at my feet)

Then a list of Zero’s favorite games:

Hide and Seek (with me and/or Dylan)
Find It : basically hide and seek except I hide her toy and make her find it
Keep Away with her frisbee (Dylan and I throw her frisbee back and forth and she’s in the middle jumping up and trying to get it..she freaking loves that game!)
Fetch with her tennis ball

Finally, Terri offers some random facts [Ed: “she” being Zero not Terri!!]:

She likes apples but wont eat a piece unless it’s peeled #soPicky
She looks up at the sky more than any dog I’ve ever seen. She loves gazing at the sky day or night.
She does not like any delivery truck. Fed Ex, UPS, Mailman, etc…Other trucks are fine
She hates storms and shakes like a leaf when there’s thunder
She’s awesome at soccer and it’s almost impossible to get the ball past her
Her favorite toy is her tennis ball
Her middle name is “Marie”. Not sure why, it just slipped out of my mouth one day when she was in trouble..lol….Zero Marie…
She would always help me get Dylan up in the mornings by burrowing under him and raising him up out of bed

So there you have it; a little bit about my heart dog and my best friend. I really can’t imagine life without her. She’s my protector, my companion, my best friend, my partner in crime … pretty much my everything. She makes my life so much better and I have learned as much from her as she has me.

(All the photographs are by Terri.)

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There are millions out there that have the most beautiful and loving relationships with their dogs.

There are far, far fewer who can articulate just what that love means to the level that Terri has done!

Summer here in Merlin

Another hot, dry summer; another fire season!

The fires in Oregon have been making the news but here in Merlin the skies have been clear and there has been no hint of the nearby forest fires.

But yesterday, we awoke to see smoke in the morning sky.

Followed a little later by smoke being seen on the flanks of Mount Sexton.

The summit of Mt. Sexton is 5 miles line-of-sight to our North-East.

It quickly became more smoky.

Culminating in the fire hazard status being raised to Extreme.

See you tomorrow, folks!

Jeannie and I pass on our grateful thanks to all the hard work being done by so many in quite challenging conditions.

Goodbye, dear ponies!

Dancer and Allegra are off to a new home!

When we were first here we gladly took on a couple of miniature horses from Margo, a neighbour to the west of us. Margo and Clarence’s property adjoins ours.

For some time we had been thinking of finding a better home for Dancer and Allegra especially as ‘sizing down’ was important to us being able to live here for many more years.

Margo will keep Allegra but has found a great new place for Dancer. Margo has been a breeder of miniature horse for many years.

So when I wrote yesterday in a reply to your responses: “The morning calls for other things to be done, more details later ,…” this is what was going on.

Some pictures to remember.

Ranger chatting with Dancer just before the ‘off’.

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Jean leading as Margo and the ponies walk up the track that leads from our stable area.

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Saying goodbye.

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The open gate to a better tomorrow!

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Goodbye, dear Dancer and Allegra!

Picture Parade Two Hundred and Forty-Eight

Want to share with you more of the recent pics taken at home.

Moon taken at 0540 on the 9th July.

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The turkeys have now cottoned onto when the deer are fed each morning!

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Cheek by jowl!

The beauty of nature!

Picture Parade Two Hundred and Forty-Seven

More of the beauty of a moist morning here at home.

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Once again, for anyone interested, all the photographs were taken with a Nikon D750 camera and a Nikkor 24-70 2.8 lens.

Defending the world we love!

Mr. George Monbiot offers a deeply personal, deeply powerful reason to change!

I have long followed George Monbiot’s writings. Both for his writing skills and the many times he really spells it out. As in spelling out the madness of our present ways! Frequently I find him very inspiring. However, his latest essay In Memoriam is one of the best ones that I have read. It is a plea from George Monbiot to see what we are doing to our wildlife and our ecosystems.

It is republished here with George Monbiot’s very kind permission. I have taken the liberty of including a few recent photographs of the wildlife that graces our acres here in Oregon.

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In Memoriam

As our wildlife and ecosystems collapse, remembering is a radical act.

By George Monbiot, published in the Guardian 29th June 2018

It felt as disorientating as forgetting my pin number. I stared at the caterpillar, unable to attach a name to it. I don’t think my mental powers are fading: I still possess an eerie capacity to recall facts and figures and memorise long screeds of text. This is a specific loss. As a child and young adult, I delighted in being able to identify almost any wild plant or animal. And now it has gone. This ability has shrivelled from disuse: I can no longer identify them because I can no longer find them.

Perhaps this forgetfulness is protective. I have been averting my eyes. Because I cannot bear to see what we have done to nature, I no longer see nature itself. Otherwise, the speed of loss would be unendurable. The collapse can be witnessed from one year to the next. The swift decline of the swift (down 25% in five years) is marked by the loss of the wild screams that, until very recently, filled the skies above my house. My ambition to see the seabird colonies of the Shetlands and St Kilda has been replaced by the intention never to visit those islands during the breeding season: I could not bear to see the empty cliffs, whose populations have crashed by some 90% this century.

I have lived long enough to witness the vanishing of wild mammals, butterflies, mayflies, songbirds and fish that I once feared my grandchildren would experience: it has all happened faster than even the pessimists predicted. Walking in the countryside or snorkelling in the sea is now as painful to me as an art lover would find her visits to a gallery, if on every occasion another Old Master had been cut from its frame.

The cause of this acceleration is no mystery. The United Nations reports that our use of natural resources has tripled in 40 years. The great expansion of mining, logging, meat production and industrial fishing is cleansing the planet of its wild places and natural wonders. What economists proclaim as progress, ecologists recognise as ruin.

This is what has driven the quadrupling of oceanic dead zones since 1950; the “biological annihilation” represented by the astonishing collapse of vertebrate populations; the rush to carve up the last intact forests; the vanishing of coral reefs, glaciers and sea ice; the shrinkage of lakes, the drainage of wetlands. The living world is dying of consumption.

We have a fatal weakness: a failure to perceive incremental change. As natural systems shift from one state to another, we almost immediately forget what we have lost. I have to make a determined effort to remember what I saw in my youth. Could it really be true that every patch of nettles, at this time of year, was reamed with caterpillar holes? That flycatchers were so common I scarcely gave them a second glance? That the rivers, around the autumn equinox, were almost black with eels?

Others seem oblivious. When I have criticised current practice, farmers have sent me images of verdant monocultures of perennial rye grass, with the message “look at this and try telling me we don’t look after nature”. It’s green, but it’s about as ecologically rich as an airport runway. One of my readers, Michael Groves, records the shift he has seen in the field beside his house, where the grass, that used to be cut for hay, is now cut for silage. Watching the cutters being driven at great speed across the field, he realised that any remaining wildlife would be shredded. Soon afterwards, he saw a roe deer standing in the mown grass. She stayed throughout the day and the following night. When he went to investigate, he found her fawn, its legs amputated. “I felt sickened, angry and powerless … how long had it taken to die?”. That “grass-fed meat” the magazines and restaurants fetishise? This is the reality.

When our memories are wiped as clean as the land, we fail to demand its restoration. Our forgetting is a gift to industrial lobby groups and the governments that serve them. Over the past few months, I have been told repeatedly that the environment secretary, Michael Gove, gets it. I have said so myself: he genuinely seems to understand what the problems are and what needs to be done. Unfortunately, he doesn’t do it.

He cannot be blamed for all of the fiascos to which he has put his name. The 25-year plan for nature was, it seems, gutted by the Prime Minister’s office. The environmental watchdog he proposed was defanged by the Treasury (it has subsequently been lent some dentures by Parliament). Other failures are all his own work. In response to lobbying from sheep farmers, he has allowed ravens, a highly intelligent and long-lived species just beginning to recover from centuries of persecution, to be killed once more. There are 24 million sheep in this country and 7400 pairs of ravens. Why must all other species give way to the white plague?

Responding to complaints that most of our national parks are wildlife deserts, Gove set up a commission to review them. But governments choose their conclusions in advance, through the appointments they make. A more dismal, backward-looking and uninspiring panel would be hard to find: not one of its members, as far as I can tell, has expressed a desire for significant change in our national parks, and most of them, if their past statements are anything to go by, are determined to keep them in their sheepwrecked and grouse-trashed state.

Now the lobbyists demand a New Zealand settlement for farming after Brexit: deregulated, upscaled, hostile to both wildlife and the human eye. If they get their way, no landscape, however treasured, will be safe from broiler sheds and mega-dairy units, no river protected from run-off and pollution, no songbird saved from local extinction. The merger between Bayer and Monsanto brings together the manufacturer of the world’s most lethal pesticides with the manufacturer of the world’s most lethal herbicides. Already the concentrated power of these behemoths is a hazard to democracy; together they threaten both political and ecological disaster. Labour’s environment team have scarcely a word to say about any of it. Similarly, the big conservation groups, as usual, have gone missing in inaction.

We forget even our own histories. We fail to recall, for example, that the Dower report, published in 1945, envisaged wilder national parks than we now possess, and that the conservation white paper the government issued in 1947 called for the kind of large-scale protection that is considered edgy and innovative today. Remembering is a radical act.

That caterpillar, by the way, was a six spot burnet: the larva of a stunning iridescent black and pink moth that once populated my neighbourhood and my mind. I will not allow myself to forget again: I will work to recover the knowledge I have lost. For I now see that without the power of memory, we cannot hope to defend the world we love.

http://www.monbiot.com

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“… the world we love.”

No better illustrated each morning as my world reaches out to me with love and trust.

Thank you, George, for speaking out so powerfully!

Picture Parade Two Hundred and Forty-Six

Staying with the theme of our beautiful natural world.

(But with a difference; these photographs are taken by yours truly all within our property.)

Shared with you good people both today and in a week’s time.

But first an apology for there being no posts these last two days. All down to helping Ken, a local friend, with the task of giving our house a bit of a ‘paintover’.

Going from brown to grey!

OK! On with the scenes of nature!

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Earlier in June we had a couple of wet days. On the first dry morning after the rain I took a number of photographs. Just two for now and then the rest shared with you in a week’s time.

Morning mists from the overnight rain.

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The moisture in the air picked up by the morning sunlight was breathtakingly beautiful!

All the photographs were taken with a Nikon D750 camera and a Nikkor 24-70 2.8 lens.

The loving rescue: so far, so good!

Staying with the beautiful story of a stray dog rescued from a beach in Greece to home in the United Kingdom

The footnote will explain why there is a pause in the story.

The fourth part of the story is a republication, with permission, of this.

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Day Four: Saturday 24th June

by Charlotte Hargreaves

Day Four…I’m calling it this when in reality, it’s actually Day Seven. We needed a few days to adjust back into life in the UK, recover from the early morning flight followed by subsequent early get-ups (tomorrow will be my first full day of doing absolutely nothing and I CANNOT wait) and also, to spread the news of Luna throughout both of our families. Writing this one feels different, it’s the first blog about Luna…but without Luna.

Although we know she is having the time of her life right now; regular walks, a paddling pool to splash in, being pampered and pedicured, spending time with an abundance of four-legged friends and overrun with all kinds of toys, we can’t help but miss her, a dog we have known for one week. It’s funny how quickly you can fall in love.

We also can’t help but feeling like a pair of anxious parents who have sent their only child off to their first day of school. This little lady was now whole-heartedly ours, our responsibility, our family member, our precious girl. I found myself texting Olga in the same way I might a teacher, ‘Is she settling in? Has she made friends? Has she eaten all of her dinner? It’s ridiculous, and yet we can’t help but laugh at ourselves. The reality is she’s most likely sunbathing, with a full belly and waggy tail, and harbouring no bother in the world for our wellbeing, thoughts such as ‘Did they get home okay? Did the plane take off on time? Are they well rested?’, never occurring or simply overtaken by ‘When’s dinner?’ Olga did however tend to the needs of the soppy Brits, and on Thursday, we received a lovely message to say that she had settled in well. Yay! This was followed by an email from Ally on Friday with the below picture, stating ‘this was Luna minutes after you left’.

Confirmed, she is now a carefree, lady of luxury. Ally also added that she would try to send some more pictures today so fingers crossed we will receive some (which I will post the second they come through).

We also learned that her veterinary appointment had been postponed after an emergency came up at the Vets and has been rescheduled to Monday. In a way, this could be seen as a blessing in disguise because it gives her a few more days to really get comfortable before they start with the prodding and poking, although based on her unconditional love of people, I imagine she’ll be the vet’s best friend in no time.

So, now that we’ve covered the latest from across the waters, what’s been happening at home? Well, my mum has already begun to accumulate items for ‘Luna’s Bag’ including pink poo bags, treats and toys, and the general feeling across both sides of our families is one of excitement. On Sunday, I posted the blog to Facebook and we were overwhelmed with such lovely messages of support. It seems that she is going to have bred a fully-fledged fan club by the time she arrives. Through the blog, we have also begun to make a whole bunch of new friends who are keen to follow Luna’s story. Our first new pals include, Tails Around the Ranch (who gave our blog its first ever like – thanks guys!) and also Paul Handover, of Learning from Dogs, whom we have received several emails of encouragement, advice and support from, along with his lovely wife Jean. We highly recommend you check both of their blogs out at https://tailsaroundtheranch.blog and https://learningfromdogs.com

Finally, I’d like to end on a high by saying that we are now officially one day past the ‘under three weeks to go’ marker until Luni arrives (Luni – a nickname we’ve already coined for her). My part-time job covers Saturdays and Sundays and I find myself looking forward to my shifts even more so now, in that each weekend, each shift signifies another passing of a marker, another week which has come and gone, and brings us that little closer to our very exciting delivery.

#HurryHomeLuna

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Footnote:

This is part of an email sent to me by Charlotte on June 26th.

All is okay – we had some slightly bad news today. Luna’s vaccinations, micropchipping and blood tests all went well however she could not be neutered due to her being in season. As a result we are left with two options-

1. She stays in Greece for another 6-8 weeks until she can be neutered.
2. She comes to the UK on the same date however we would need to arrange different travel to the ferry as she won’t be able to go in the van with the other dogs.

It’s been a tough decision, and disappointing for us both, but you cannot control nature and we must do what is right for her.

With that in mind, we are 90% sure that we are going to ask Olga to hold her in Greece for the treatment to be carried out there as planned. For several reasons,

  1. She can recover under Olga’s 24/7 supervision and then come to the UK and start a fresh, rather than one of her first experiences over here being a more negative one.
  2. We won’t have to make alternative arrangements for transport which may prove complicated and costly.
  3. She is already settled with Olga and so it involves less upset for her, as we want to make her transition as smooth as possible.
  4. Also, the cost of neutering in the UK is much higher, and therefore even with paying for the extra boarding, it will most likely work out more cost effective. Although money is no concern in regards to her, we must also remember that we are saving for a house for the three us.

So potentially, we are looking at a longer wait, although good things come to those who are patient! We did think things were running far too smoothly so there was bound to be a bump in the road. Nevertheless, she is safe, healthy and happy and we could not ask for more.

Many thanks

P.S. If there are others who like Jean thought the 6-8 weeks seemed like a long time, a relevant article over on the Australian VetWest website included the following: [my italics]

How soon after an oestrous cycle can a bitch be desexed?

When an animal is in season, there is an increased blood supply to both the uterus and the ovaries. Dogs can be desexed whilst they are in season, but generally we try to do the surgery 8 weeks after the start of their last oestrous cycle.

Rest assured that I will share the rest of Luna’s story with you just as soon as it is published over on Loving Luna.