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There’s no rhyme or reason to what turns into a blog post.

Sometime in July

Ben Short once again obliged me with some photographs, coming to visit my parents’ property for some shots with Buddy and I together. Unfortunately, none of them really worked out, which is why it’s taken me so long to share them.

Buddy was still wearing his light puppy colouring, and was in all ways a cheeky-scallywag puppy.

Puppy getting a massage. (Actually, just caught him and was putting a lead back on him I think.)
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My Faux Pas

Something for my dad on Father’s Day.

My Faux Pas.

It’s easy to be a father,
harder to be a dad.
The first a slip with passion,
The other a choice to have.

A mother labours hard
And invests all she has
A father might not know it
Until he becomes a dad.

A father gives a little
A dad gives all he’s got.
A father loves his lover
A dad loves his lot.

My dad is not my father
But he loves me as his own.
He made the choice, you see
To dismiss blood and bone.

This daughter loves her dad
And thanks him for all he’s been,
All the good he’s done for me,
Much of it gone unseen.

All I have to say
On this and every day
“I love you, dad.”
– Amelia Beare

Buddy (the long-overdue and abridged catch-up entry)

The end of May was an anxious time for me. There was awful (read: tragic!) news about the litter from which I was adopting my new puppy, and the potential for an extended delay in receiving my new little bundle of mischief and mayhem. I was anxious for the breeder having to deal with such wretched issues, afraid for my potential puppy, and worried about missing those vital weeks for bonding and socialising.

Ultimately all these anxieties proved unnecessary – as they so often do. Buddy arrived on time, as pre-arranged in the weeks leading up to the last Sunday of May.

Drive Home
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sad news / happy news

I didn’t have the full picture of what was happening with Buddy and his litter mates when I last wrote about this, and it’s been quite a rollercoaster of emotions since.

Buddy’s mother, Spirit, is what is known as a ‘woolly malamute’. Woollies have longer coats than regular malamutes, which strangely makes them less capable of dealing with cold, snow, and being wet. The relationship between guard hairs and undercoat is undermined by the nature of the longer coat, so they’re not as well insulated. They are, however, generally sweeter of temperament – if you’re familiar with the research breeding program of foxes in Russia, how being bred for sweeter temperament resulted in startling changes in physical appearance, this is basically what you get with a woolly malamute.
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good news / sad news

Today began with a fright. Yesterday and the day before both began with a fright as well.

My neighbours are not good at managing their firewood, because every morning in the wee hours just before daylight, they’re outside my bedroom window (well, over the fence just outside my bedroom window) swinging an axe to split logs for kindling.

It took me until the third day of waking in a fright to realise there wasn’t a maniac trying to hack through my house and murder me in my bed.

Anxiety and the ‘worst case scenario’… y’know what I’m talking about.

And I’m lucky my supervisors are so nice, because I had a lovely chat with one of them today, ostensibly to discuss my thesis progress, but mostly we talked about dogs. I like my thesis supervisors. :D
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