Get a Dog, Teach Some Responsibility

emergency vet MoorabinSurprise, surprise. We get a dog, I tell the kids they gotta look after it, and who ends up doin’ the actual work?

Yep. The professional services we pay to look after it. I knew this would happen, ya know. Sure, Cassius gets a walk from a professional dog walker every single day, and gets a doggie massage every Tuesday and Saturday, and we got an automatic feeder that prepares his food and monitors whether he should have more or less dependin’ on his weight, but the kids could stand to lift the slightest finger.

And just yesterday our call-in vet said he was on holiday in the Maldives, so I gotta bundle Cassius into the car MYSELF and find a really good pet surgery in the Bayside area so he can have one of his checkups. And then he just turns out to be healthy anyway, because there’s NOTHIN’ wrong with this dog. He can run forever.

And I don’t wanna make it seem like I’m complainin’ about Cassius. That dog loves every single one of us like we’re even closer than family, and I guess he’s pretty well-trained after the hubby called in a favour from a professional dog trainer and had him come to the house for a two-week crash course in everythin’ from coming when we call his name to puttin’ his paws together when we say grace at dinner. I’m just sayin’, the kids should be the ones takin’ him to the vet every now and then. They can sit in the waitin’ room holding Cassius’ lead and giving it a tug when he sees another dog and wants to play. And maybe ONE day a week they can take him for a walk.

I guess they do play with him a LOT, which tires him out. Even Baz, who’s a different kid when he’s with the dog. Still, next time Cassius eats somethin’ he shouldn’t and we need to find an emergency vet in Moorabbin because our call-in vet is off in the Seychelles, I’m getting the kids up with the dog and taking them to the pet surgery, rain or shine. They gotta learn that a pet comes with responsibility!


A New Driveway…for the Wife

driveway rocks CranbourneWhat’s that scientific thing called when you do something yourself and it means more to you? The IKEA effect, that’s the one. Now, I’m hoping the IKEA effect is transferable, because I’ve got two days until the wife returns from her conference and *hopefully* she’s going to be welcomed back by a beautifully landscaped front garden, along with the driveway of her dreams. Assuming that she’s been dreaming of a nice driveway. Hopefully the fact that we’re joined in holy matrimony will mean that the IKEA effect will be transferred to her, and she’ll appreciate it just as much as if it were done by her own hand. Or even more, since she had nothing to do with it, and dodging work is pretty much Lira’s style.

That was snarky. Still, I have no experience laying driveways and I went and did it anyway. Had to go to Cranbourne for crushed rock, and then to Berwick to get the very specific type of pebbles I needed to make rings around the various trees we have in the front garden. Did you know that there were pebble varieties? Apparently, that is a real thing. I could’ve just gotten regular old pebbles from down the road, but that’s just what love does to you. It compels you to drive long distances so that you can get the right sort of pebbles. The great poets could’ve written entire sonnets about the hunt for pebbles and how it represents true love or something. Currently, it just represents my frustration as a realise that there’s a reason most people pay landscapers to do this kind of thing, instead of doing it themselves. If anyone wants to recommend me some really good quality building supplies in Berwick, I’d be ever so grateful. I’m going there for aggregate anyway, and the old ute is struggling with all these labours of love. It’s not the only one.