It's a funny thing, but as the last month of school stumbles through each of it's days, I feel the excitement mounting of having my 8 year old son at home with me for the entire Summer, whilst the other Mums feel a different sort of thrill: the mounting terror of having their kid/s at home for the Summer. I can understand their feelings but they have a great deal of trouble in understanding mine.
How can I explain it ? Well, let's have a stab. First off, I really hate being hot, so Summer is my least favourite of the four seasons. Winter is the very pinnacle of comfort for me from within my colourful knitted tops, scarves and hats. In the Winter you have the choice of adding layers of clothing to achieve a happy temperature. But what do you do in the Summer when you're down to your last piece of flimsy clothing and you're still not comfortable ? Exactly. You can take a dip in a pool or jump waves at the beach but when you're having to adhere to a scholarly routine of morning and afternoon drop-offs and pick-ups, as well as squeezing groceries and other chores into those annoyingly timed hours, it's difficult to find time to spend in any form of water other than your sweat.
So, there's that. Having your kid at home for weeks means no routine so you can sit your buns in a pool any hour of the day, content in the knowledge you don't need to get out before dusk. Emergencies withstanding of course.
Another reason is that I actually enjoy having my son at home. Alright, I admit it, yes, son as in Singular, as in only one kid. But he has the same amount of energy as three children put together and he can start a discussion that robs me of increasing amounts of concentration whilst driving, a talent that will stand him in good stead in the future but which requires a good firm "Stop talking to me or we're both going to die horribly" at the current time. When he's home we play games, read books, take walks to the library, visit museums and galleries, potter around book shops, sit having chats in cafes, share chocoholic ice creams, play in the park, swim in the pool, attack each other around the house. But when he's in school, after a day of having information tipped inside his head and with me tearing around trying to squeeze as many chores into five hours as possible, we both fall into our home afterwards to sit blank-eyed on the couch wishing someone else would make the dinner or at least walk across to the TV and turn it on. We've bcome proficients at Rock, Paper, Scissors to settle who'll expend the next bout of energy after a concentrated year of school.
Last Summer I let him down badly. I procrastinated my way out of organising play-dates with his friends, a fact that was casually mentioned by each parent we bumped into unawares during the weeks off. And I spent too many mornings enjoying the lack of need to get up at the same time as his Dad ( or earlier ), meaning we didn't tend to leave the house until mid-afternoon. This year has been a turn-around, I've enrolled him in a day-camp that starts next week, he has at least two birthday parties to go to, he's met up with at least one friend each week, we've spent the majority of each day outdoors either swimming or walking somewhere and I've only had one lie-in in almost thirty days. Not bad given the half-way point is already rushing towards us.
There will come a Summer soon when he'll turn around and just tell me he's heading out with a friend and I won't see him for the entire day. Or he'll have made his own plans to do something which don't include me, or he just won't feel like doing anything other than closetting himself inside his room with a sign taped on the door clearly stating a need for privacy. And what will I do then ? Will I wander around galleries by myself, turning to empty air to point out some object of interest or snigger at unexpected nudity ? Will I shuffle out of the door, feeling lost but not wanting to be in an empty house by myself ? Will I make fruitless calls to friends who already have plans because they DO plan ahead ? I hope not. I hope he always wants to spend a few days each week heading out together in the car somewhere, planned or impromptu.
Perhaps if I make this time as much fun as possible he'll have more incentive to feel like continuing it well into his teens and beyond. I have my limits, his Dad is far more fun than I am. He enjoys going on roller-coasters whilst I stand there hyper-ventilating at the thought of standing in the queue for one. He can make-up rude, funny stories on the spot which sends them both into fits of laughter, sometimes for long enough that our son has to make an emergency dash to the toilet. They play video-games together for hours whilst I last just seconds before my character dies a messy death, asking constantly "Well, what button do I press to do this ?" to the accompaniment of exaggerated sighs from my progeny as he pauses the game yet again. His Dad is more fun in the pool than I am, they like more of the same books, and my son even says he loves his Dad more than he does me because he sees less of him. But it's not a competition. As long as he still wants to come find me I know it's all OK and he wants to find me more than I sometimes want to go find him. Sometimes I want my space but each time I think that I remind myself that some day I might have more space than I'm ready for. It's a handy thought to have. It gets me up and looking for him, asking him what he feels like doing, giving him a prod when he just wants to sit watching the same movie as the evening before. We'll have a lot of memories of our time together and that's never a bad thing to be left with.
So for those of you dreading a Summer of your own children just spend a little time thinking about the Summers you'll dread because they're not spending them with you. It's too easy to sit back and listen to the sound of bored children, thinking "Why don't they find something to do ?" Why don't YOU find something for them to do, with you ?
For anyone living in Vancouver, BC there's an excellent website with an Index of Activities, although the prices are pretty dated;
www.findfamilyfun.com
Enjoy !
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies
I am a big fan of Jane Austen's original version of this book, probably reading it, on average, once a year - just as Meg Ryan's character does in 'You've got Mail' :-). I'd regretfully turned the last page on it just a week ago and watched avidly the BBC's adaptation with Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth the following night. So it was providential timing that I heard that Natalie Portman was considering playing the character of Elizabeth Bennet in the zombie version just a day or so later.
Under ordinary circumstances I'd have turned my lip up at this. I'd seen the large numbers of copies of this book in local Chapters stores a few months back, the eaten away face on the picture adorning the cover, on shelves positioned in an eye-catching manner. I am a fairly indifferent fan of Natalie Portman, I don't actively seek out to see her films but have enjoyed them on a number of occasions. Two favourites which come to mind being Mr Magorium's Wonder Emporium and V for Vendetta. At some point I might even watch the movie, if it is in fact coming out. But reading the book ? I hadn't been interested. But hearing this news just as I'd finished the classic telling of the tale piqued my curiosity. Perhaps there was more in it than I had allowed for.
I tried to get a copy from the library, no luck, so invested $17 in Chapters last weekend and just finished reading it today. Even though I'm about to write a review I'm not sure what I'm going to say so let's just see how this goes.
I was expecting Seth Grahame-Smith to loosely follow the original plot so was surprised, after reading the altered first line, - "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains"- to see that he was parroting Austen's work word for word. As I turned each page I kept expecting it to go off at a tangent, a sensation I experienced throughout the book fruitlessly, as it turned out. He does leave out chunks of paragraphs and sentences, changes words around and inserts zombie filled sections but the Zombie version never deviates far from the original writing. Which is both a saving grace and a missed opportunity. This might sound too contradictory but if you ever feel like picking it up you might understand what I mean.
Grahame-Smith boldly does what some of us have wanted to do for some time. He preserves the well-liked characters and ruins the lives of the scoundrels. Good wins. Nice. He subtly changes some of the characters' pasts so that they come into line with the sub-plot of the zombie plague which has been around for the last sixty ( or fifty ?) five years. This has the occasionally unwanted effect of hardening some of the characters personalities so that they leap into homicidal threats when upset or thwarted. Elizabeth is a prime example of this. Now a fully-trained fighting expert, she defends her family and fellow Hertfordshire countryfolk from the "unmentionable hordes". The very second she feels that someone has insulted her she offers to open their throats, not exactly in keeping with the original Victorian attitude of keeping emotions strictly under wraps.
Some lesser characters are swiftly killed off in the beginning chapters. A minor character is infected and another commits suicide. All very dark and depressing but not unexpected given the title. The author does a fairly good job, with his meshed-in additions, of using the colloquial language of the time. They're still easily spotted, whether you're familiar with the original or not, as they're usually concerned with people's intestines being consumed or the Bennet's chasing off ghouls with swords and daggers. You obviously don't need a working knowledge under those conditions. I had expected to find this annoying but didn't. That doesn't mean that they aren't, just that I expected this to happen and wasn't bothered by it.
One thing that was annoying though was the author's decision to slide some innuendoes in. When Darcy refers to public and private balls, when enquiring after Elizabeth's preference, I found myself wincing as she replied "I find that balls are much more enjoyable when they cease to remain private" with a blush at the double meaning. I'm not a prude and find this kind of humour funny in reality but not in the least funny within the context of the story. It happened on a few occasions, impinging on the innocence of the book. Possibly this wouldn't bother some but I sighed each time.
The illustrations dotted about the novel are good, I'm assuming they're by Grahame-Smith as I couldn't find a reference inside to anyone else and spent a few minutes on the internet searching without enlightenment. They're pretty graphic black and white sketches but do add to the book in a way that the writing doesn't always succeed in doing.
This is pure parody, of course, and can't be taken the least seriously. I didn't set out to read it with anything in mind other than the light-hearted approach intended by the author. So I enjoyed reading this in the sense that the insertions were funny at times, especially in Mr Bennet's direct insults ( as opposed to Austen's former veiled ones ) to his wife, and that some characters got their come-uppance. I agree with other reviewers that taking down Wickham was a mistake. Yes, he is a bad boy but it was an integral part of the book that his punishment be solely a disadvantageous marriage rather than Grahame-Seth's version of having him paralysed and reeking of soiled underwear. This was taking a point too far. Wickham needed to suffer a slow downturn over time, not an immediate and constant one, and there's no way that Darcy would have recommended him to a curacy given his past and the additional murderous attempt on his Colonel's life.
Would I recommend this ? I honestly don't know. If you love the original too much then No. If you love it just enough that you can handle a gentle mocking of it, then Possibly Yes. How would I rate it ? 4 out of 10. It brings enough new to the book to make it interesting but a better version would have been to leave the original story behind at some point. Which needed more courage and talent than perhaps Mr Grahame-Seth has. I can only guess.
Under ordinary circumstances I'd have turned my lip up at this. I'd seen the large numbers of copies of this book in local Chapters stores a few months back, the eaten away face on the picture adorning the cover, on shelves positioned in an eye-catching manner. I am a fairly indifferent fan of Natalie Portman, I don't actively seek out to see her films but have enjoyed them on a number of occasions. Two favourites which come to mind being Mr Magorium's Wonder Emporium and V for Vendetta. At some point I might even watch the movie, if it is in fact coming out. But reading the book ? I hadn't been interested. But hearing this news just as I'd finished the classic telling of the tale piqued my curiosity. Perhaps there was more in it than I had allowed for.
I tried to get a copy from the library, no luck, so invested $17 in Chapters last weekend and just finished reading it today. Even though I'm about to write a review I'm not sure what I'm going to say so let's just see how this goes.
I was expecting Seth Grahame-Smith to loosely follow the original plot so was surprised, after reading the altered first line, - "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains"- to see that he was parroting Austen's work word for word. As I turned each page I kept expecting it to go off at a tangent, a sensation I experienced throughout the book fruitlessly, as it turned out. He does leave out chunks of paragraphs and sentences, changes words around and inserts zombie filled sections but the Zombie version never deviates far from the original writing. Which is both a saving grace and a missed opportunity. This might sound too contradictory but if you ever feel like picking it up you might understand what I mean.
Grahame-Smith boldly does what some of us have wanted to do for some time. He preserves the well-liked characters and ruins the lives of the scoundrels. Good wins. Nice. He subtly changes some of the characters' pasts so that they come into line with the sub-plot of the zombie plague which has been around for the last sixty ( or fifty ?) five years. This has the occasionally unwanted effect of hardening some of the characters personalities so that they leap into homicidal threats when upset or thwarted. Elizabeth is a prime example of this. Now a fully-trained fighting expert, she defends her family and fellow Hertfordshire countryfolk from the "unmentionable hordes". The very second she feels that someone has insulted her she offers to open their throats, not exactly in keeping with the original Victorian attitude of keeping emotions strictly under wraps.
Some lesser characters are swiftly killed off in the beginning chapters. A minor character is infected and another commits suicide. All very dark and depressing but not unexpected given the title. The author does a fairly good job, with his meshed-in additions, of using the colloquial language of the time. They're still easily spotted, whether you're familiar with the original or not, as they're usually concerned with people's intestines being consumed or the Bennet's chasing off ghouls with swords and daggers. You obviously don't need a working knowledge under those conditions. I had expected to find this annoying but didn't. That doesn't mean that they aren't, just that I expected this to happen and wasn't bothered by it.
One thing that was annoying though was the author's decision to slide some innuendoes in. When Darcy refers to public and private balls, when enquiring after Elizabeth's preference, I found myself wincing as she replied "I find that balls are much more enjoyable when they cease to remain private" with a blush at the double meaning. I'm not a prude and find this kind of humour funny in reality but not in the least funny within the context of the story. It happened on a few occasions, impinging on the innocence of the book. Possibly this wouldn't bother some but I sighed each time.
The illustrations dotted about the novel are good, I'm assuming they're by Grahame-Smith as I couldn't find a reference inside to anyone else and spent a few minutes on the internet searching without enlightenment. They're pretty graphic black and white sketches but do add to the book in a way that the writing doesn't always succeed in doing.
This is pure parody, of course, and can't be taken the least seriously. I didn't set out to read it with anything in mind other than the light-hearted approach intended by the author. So I enjoyed reading this in the sense that the insertions were funny at times, especially in Mr Bennet's direct insults ( as opposed to Austen's former veiled ones ) to his wife, and that some characters got their come-uppance. I agree with other reviewers that taking down Wickham was a mistake. Yes, he is a bad boy but it was an integral part of the book that his punishment be solely a disadvantageous marriage rather than Grahame-Seth's version of having him paralysed and reeking of soiled underwear. This was taking a point too far. Wickham needed to suffer a slow downturn over time, not an immediate and constant one, and there's no way that Darcy would have recommended him to a curacy given his past and the additional murderous attempt on his Colonel's life.
Would I recommend this ? I honestly don't know. If you love the original too much then No. If you love it just enough that you can handle a gentle mocking of it, then Possibly Yes. How would I rate it ? 4 out of 10. It brings enough new to the book to make it interesting but a better version would have been to leave the original story behind at some point. Which needed more courage and talent than perhaps Mr Grahame-Seth has. I can only guess.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
My dog Barney
Barney was a black mixed breed dog combining labrador and some form of terrier with, possibly, monkey and skunk thrown in for good measure too. Oh, and pig, but then I think when man created the domestic dog they accidentally mixed that in right from the start. He was a handsome dog with less of a square face than labs tend to have. It was always an interesting experience to walk him, as the people who stopped to chat would always comment on what a good-looking dog he was. His coat always gleamed, he'd fix people with an interested stare and paid as much attention to passersby of the human variety as he did canine. My absolute favourite dog on the planet.
I first saw Barney in, of all places, Metrotown in Burnaby, BC. There used to be a pet-store near the central atrium by the Customer Service desk on the first floor. He was in a cage with his little sister, a smaller, cuter version of himself. Originally, we were supposed to buy one - I wanted a black lab mix female- but once we saw them together neither Justin nor I had the heart to separate them. So, we asked minimal questions - you could see later that this was a mistake but then even after realising that we wouldn't have made a different decision looking back- and bought the pair "as is". I know now the "as is" should have made us suspicious but THEN, we had no clue, not a one.
Barney gave us his first relatable story that very first day. When the employees got the two puppies out we were immediately mobbed by people all wanting to touch, stroke, handle and, for whatever reason, the puppies were passed to strange hands instead of ours and above the crowd I saw Barney passed to an Asian woman, possibly in her early twenties, who, I will never forget, once done with her canine moment, placed Barney down on the floor so that she could continue looking about unhindered. Unbelievable. It took me some moments to manhandle my way through the cooing crowd but once through I was just in time to see Barns wander out of the store then between wondering legs into the middle of the mall. Thankfully, he was so overwhelmed by the unsuspected size of the place outside of his cage that he took a moment to pause, which was all I needed to sneak my hands around his middle and hold tight. Fortunately for the Asian woman she had left before I had the opportunity to do the same to her.
We really hadn't thought any of it through, having acting on pure impulse. Justin and I were still staying in a hotel after moving from the UK to Canada, had no home arranged as yet and were now the proud owners of two puppies with nowhere to put them. We had come to an arrangement with a friendly employee of the store, that he would look after the puppies at his home until we had made other arrangements, but it turned out that he wasn't actually able to. The day after. But he did make his sale ! :-P . So we got in a taxi, picked the two up from the store where it turned out they'd stayed overnight, and found a great animal hospital on Granville, the Anderson A.H, which was just perfect for the two. In more ways than we realised.
It turned out that Laurel ( Barney's sister ) wasn't actually as well as she'd first appeared and she needed immediate treatment. It also turned out that her paperwork wasn't filled in properly and she hadn't completed all of her puppy shots. So, she went into a vet cage whilst Barney was shoved straight into the main boarding area to a room full of oversized, loud dogs. Whereupon he wrapped himself around my leg and tried to climb me, claw by claw. By the time I went in to see him a day later he was wandering under the bigger dogs, happily licking them and playing. That was the base for his super-friendly canine social ability, a never regretted trait. The two puppies also met a large number of warm and friendly staff at Anderson, becoming extremely confident and alert around people, another never regretted trait. Sadly, Laurel only lived with us for a couple of months before she succombed to parvo, a probable consequence of the terrible lack of treatment she'd suffered at the pet shop, as well as her not completing her shots until we bought her. This den of Hades was already closed by this time and good riddance or I might have been tempted to go in there armed with more than just angry words.
Barney, on the other hand, only gained from her death. Sad but true. From the day the ambulance took her he was just happy. He was too young to understand her absence, plus we spoiled him rotten by taking him to all forms of canine heaven in and around Vancouver for months afterwards. Possibly all of this helped in later life as he showed an amazing adaptability to change. A good thing as our lives were filled with nothing but huge changes as we moved him between countries five times during his lifetime. He even endured six months in UK quarantine. Not our favourite choice as we did have other options in that a number of people offered to have him once we realised we had to leave Canada. But we, perhaps selfishly, decided to keep him despite the quarantine. So we had him with us for another seven years and I hope he agreed that it was worth it.
Barney was our first "baby". Our friends who had children kept saying we treated him more like our child than a dog. In some ways I agree with that, now that we have Jamie as our first human "baby". But we didn't baby him, he was always treated as a dog. We just included him in our lives more than a dog normally is included. He came to our friends' houses, we arranged days out for him and piles of presents at Christmas. The positive to that was that he became a part of more people's lives than just our own. Every single one of our friends knew Barney, he was more of a character to them than their own pets in some ways. Or perhaps that's just my perspective.
He quickly established himself in our home, chewing anything made of wood, including: the dining table legs,a potentially suicidal choice given that his bed was underneath it at the time; a wooden statue my Mum had brought back from the Pennsylvania Dutch; and, on an infamous occasion, an entire plastic pot of Body Shop olive body butter, plastic pot and all. That had a devastating effect on his digestive system, very bad timing on his part too as we headed off for a camping weekend that day. His stomach started to make a disturbing, rumbling sound, which initially took us some time to locate. My friend and I practically threw him towards a clearing in the bushes as nothing making a noise like that as a pre-cursor bodes well. All I can liken it to is a tap of green mud pouring out of his bumhole. We both looked on in horror at this sight, even Barney looked over his shoulder at it with a similarly horrified expression. At five minute intervals, over the course of an hour, his tum gave warning rumbles of imminent release. By the third time Barney was starting to stare at it in miserable resignation, which should have been sad to see but was actually increasingly funny. Being self-inflicted and of non-life-threatening proportion.
On another occasion he consumed a string bag of neon plastic 'jacks', all in differing colours of day-glo orange, yellow and green. I think that night made an impression on more than just ourselves as one family after another spotted his "glowing" poop in the gathering dark. Thankfully, no-one got close enough to see who we were as we scuttled off into the night after scooping up our radio-active bag of fun. But at least one person made a loud comment, and who could blame them.
A few weeks after that event we had another, this time during the day. Barney seemed to be straining to pass something, Justin squatted down to see what the problem was and saw something was protruding from his anus ( Barney's, not his own ). He picked up a stick, gave it a gentle poke and realised it was some form of soft plastic. So he hooked the stick through it and began to gently pull. Our eyes widened as the object became longer, then longer and was a good ten inch wonder when the first family rounded the corner to see this miracle. We must have been quite the sight, a black dog, straining his butt a few inches above the ground, and a man bent over behind him, holding a stick to a dog's bum with what turned out to be an entire plastic carrier bag connected between them. Heaven only knows when he'd eaten it, or why, or even how it had managed to travel his entire digestive tract whole. I'm sure we're not the only people who relate that story in disbelief. We'll never know as the father swiftly turned his fascinated children around with just a few words, and a helpful hand back in the direction they'd just come from.
And all this before he was even a year old. In the ensuing years Barney gave us more and more stories, although none with the impact of those from his first year. He travelled to England with us and endeared himself to our families. Then back to Canada but this time to Vancouver Island. He almost didn't make it out there as the day before he was due to travel Justin's company had a financial scare and we were forced to postpone his trip by a week or so. After the Island we all moved to Albany in New York State where Barney enjoyed the harsh winters. His paws suffered a little as it really was shockingly cold there. We bought him some little shoes but, being the unknowing suspicious dog that he is, he refused to believe we were doing it for his own benefit, probably suspecting it to be for our own amusement. So, he kicked them off in the first good dump of snow he could find. You couldn't blame him his paranoia, given that we made him wear a Santa suit his first year, and a blouse, AND took photos. Poor dog. One thing he didn't enjoy out there in NY were the ticks. Horrible little things. He had one on top of his head and a few other places before we invested in monthly medication for them. Justin caved over the expense on the day he found one on his inner thigh, which explained the numbness he'd been feeling for the last twelve hours. The bathroom air was entirely blue that day :-)
Then we moved back to the place of his birth just two years ago. I missed out a story so I'll tell it now. When Barney was finally able to fly over to the Island I picked him up at cargo at Vancouver Airport. It was strange as when I arrived there, I was shown through to a huge warehouse where you're only permitted to stand in a small corner of it, within a yellow painted square on the floor. There was no-one there initially so Jamie and I stood looking about, wondering how Barney's trip had been. There was a wooden crate about twenty feet away which I assumed was empty as there was no movement within and no reaction to our voices when we were speaking. But it turned out to be Barney's travel crate and there he was, just quietly and patiently lying there, as he waited to find out what fresh strangeness was coming. Later, as we drove over Lions Gate Bridge, with Barney upright in the front seat with the belt clipped to a harness, he suddenly caught the scent of one of his favourite walks through the open window. He inhaled so deeply I thought he was going to pass out, and that was when I realised we HAD to take him there instead of straight to the ferry. So Barney spent his first afternoon back in Canada, happily diving into the surf of Burrard Inlet, and lying in the sand with his nose covered in a fine dusting of brown on damp. I always loved watching him enjoy himself like that.
Now here we are again. Only this time Barney was over eight years old, still acting like a puppy in a lot of ways, and still the biggest canine fan of winter I've ever seen. The second that Barney gets outside and realises that there's white on the ground he just runs into it nose first, whether it's four feet deep or four centimetres. But not this year, even though we've only had one snowfall so far and barely an inch at that.
This year Barney started to get sick. We'd noticed him having on and off diarhhoea at the end of last year but didn't consider it, him being notorious for eating grass which gives him a bad tummy from time to time. But when Justin was laid off in February we took him in to the vet for a check-up, to see if he was well enough for his age for a flight to the UK, if necessary. They found that his protein levels weren't normal, which along with his other symptoms meant one of three probably incurable problems. The vets offered a few expensive diagnostic treatments which we decided against for two reasons. The first, which we hated having as a reason, was a lack of finances with Justin out of work. And the second, his age. The best hope, diagnostically, lay in opening him up and spending a couple of hours looking at his intestines where the problem lay. But at his age it was a risk, even with his strong heart. Plus, the last operation Barney had, on his anatomy formerly known as his testicles, when they put the cone on him he kept having panic attacks so we ended up taking it off and just taking turns watching him instead. It would be much harder to stop him attacking his stitches on such an easy to access area even if he did pull through it. Worse, getting a diagnosis did not mean treatment would follow as all three potential diagnoses were terminal and usually untreatable. We looked into our options, researched on the internet, and decided his best chance was changing his diet. And it worked.
During his last eight months Barney steadily lost weight, gradually at first, but in his last month quite a bit faster. But he recovered from the diarrhoea and was happy and energetic again, which was all we could ask for. We went camping at Alouette Lake, which he loved, all of us sleeping in the tent together, and we snuck him down to the Lake for a swim. A big No No, but, come on, we're were in his natural territory here. I took him to North Vancouver to his old walk along Lynn Canyon, both of us keeping fit as I strode along and he ran alongside. We went to Starbucks together, he loved finishing off my coffees, he'd put his nose into the cup and lift it skywards to get the final remnants, hilarious to see and sadly I have no photo now to help me remember. But mostly we kept him company at home and he lay on my feet and breathed in and out whilst I wrote on here, or watched a film.
For years I've laid next to Barney on the floor, occasionally crying about something or other but never as frequently as I did once we realised that he was on his final decline. I've cried over him having to go through quarantine even before we put him on the plane. I've cried over moving away from family and not knowing anyone in Canada I've cried as I watched him get fatter in quarantine, when he had a huge abscess in his head which needed painful draining. It's funny because Barney isn't one of those dogs who comes and comforts you as a rule. Sometimes he comes, wagging his tail tentatively at the end, other times he lies in a different part of the room as though you weren't even present. But he has always been there in some form or another and always appreciated.
I wish there had been some way of explaining to him just how much he meant to us. I hope that he knew but I wish there were a way to be sure. I wish he could understand why, this time, I couldn't help to make him more comfortable, why I couldn't do some "magical" thing that fixed all his woes, in the same way that I could spot a painful stone in his paw, or a cut in his pad, or an abscess that needed draining. Every procedure he ever needed doing I was there to stroke him and calm him down. Vets all over the world have marvelled at his passiveness during sometimes painful treatments, but then he trusted us to know what we were doing. Which is why this last time it was so heart-breaking to see him look at us in confusion as he gradually starved to death, as his body failed to absorb the food that we gave him four times daily or more.
Twice in his last month he stole food, left in a place we thought he couldn't reach. Once it was grapes and he needed his stomach pumped, an expensive and invasive treatment but life-restoring so that we could have him around for as long as possible. Then another day he stole my son's "gingerbread" ( actually crackers ) house which was covered in cereal, sweets and icing. He suffered for that one with more than twelve hours of explosive diarrhoea which left him drained, stiff and tender.
We didn't know how much longer we would have together. We kept thinking it would be so easy to take him to the vet to be put to sleep in peace and comfort, after all, he wasn't comfortable on his walk anymore and we couldn't make him better, we could only give him a certain level of "comfort". But then I'd see him lift his head alertly, and eat his dinner with enthusiasm, how he reacted with pleasure when I pretended to creep up to "get him" and how he could walk about inside the house at least without seeming stiff or ill. So I'd put it off for another day, thinking the vet wouldn't believe us if we took him in. But he got thinner and when I petted him all I could feel were his bones under his coat and you could see them as he moved, and I just wanted to cry and stop it once and for all.
So who knew what would happen or what was the best thing to do. A selfish part of me wanted him to be here for Christmas, to see him open his last presents and to enjoy the day, even as another part of me knew that the vet's would be closed soon and that if he took a rapid downturn it would be more time and money both he and we couldn't spare. But I loved him with all of my heart and wished he could just get better miraculously because his heart was still strong, and his brain still alert, and his coat so soft that he couldn't be going already. I wished that could happen. If that could be my only Christmas present I'd have taken it without a second thought.
But as it turned out the gingerbread house was the finishing of him. Only a day later I noticed blood in his stool, called Justin at work and he made arrangements to come home early and take Barney to the vets. We weren't sure what would happen but needed to do something, to ask someone else advice as to when the best time was for him to be put to sleep. Once Justin was home we opened Barney's Christmas presents with him, it was two days early but we wanted to do something, just in case. He was so excited. He ripped the paper off and took his presents, one at a time, behind the couch where he chewed at the squeaking bone with enthusiasm, tossing it to one side from his mouth and then pulling it back with the claws of his paw.
Once we took him down to the garage in the lift he ran excitedly to the car, finding energy from goodness only where, he was so thin it was always extraordinary how he kept going so energetically. We arrived at the vets, booked in and sat, petting him gently, feeling a little absurd bringing this apparently healthy, alert-looking dog for an emergency appointment. The vet welcomed us into a consulting room, we explained the situation to her, asking for advice as to what to do. Initially she talked of keeping a journal on how he was doing, what he was eating, what his stools were like. I started to feel a little overcome, after sharing the last weeks with her and excused myself, needing some fresh air. The second I opened the door Barney tried to follow me, he'd always point himself at the door, ready to leave, never a big fan of the vets but tolerating every trip. I literally had to push him back in, he was so determined to come with me. Which of course only upset me more.
I stood outside, wondering how much longer we could do this when Justin came out with Jamie to tell me they'd decided to have him put to sleep. Right then. The vet had already gone into the back to prepare the medicine. I was shocked. I'd half expected it, had almost hoped for it in one sense, as it was truly terrible to watch Barney go through this experience. But it was still too soon, I wasn't ready. But the vet agreed, once Justin had said we were ready if she felt it were his time, that he was in grave danger of sudden collapse. Which would have been an awful experience for him to go through, especially if it happened whilst he was alone. Justin had said he would stay with him whilst it happened, that they'd bring him outside for me to say Goodbye to beforehand. But I knew it had to be me that stayed with him. I'd been there to keep him calm through every upset, every procedure and, no matter how hard, I had to be there for this last time.
I'll never forget it. I went back in, with red-rimmed eyes, as Barney looked at me worriedly. The vet came in with a red blanket which Barney laid on as soon as she placed it on the floor. I kneeled next to him, stroking his head as she injected his last ever dose of medicine, and told him it was all going to be alright, keeping him calm as it took effect. I felt like the worst parent on the planet as he began to struggle against the effects, still stroking his head and telling him it was going to be alright when I knew everything was going to be very much the opposite of alright. His head began to grow heavy so I lowered it gently onto the floor as his breathing grew suddenly laboured in his effort to reverse what was happening. Which he couldn't and I hated those few seconds whilst that went on. It was soon over. The vet placed a stethoscope next to his chest, his heartbeat had stopped.
I know we had to do it. I know it would have been worse for him to experience the pain of his illness, which would have been unbearable, not to mention frightening for him to go through. But I still feel pain in my chest at the thought that we robbed him of who knows how many days or possibly weeks that he had left before that happened. Perhaps it was only hours away, we'll never know. It's a decision most pet owners have to make at some point, whether to wait for the pain or prevent it ever being experienced. All I know is that I had to put my beautiful, loving, playful, alert dog to sleep before his time and it hurts. It hurt to see his presents lying on the floor where he'd left them only an hour before when we returned home. It hurt all night as I looked on here through all the many photos we had of him. And it hurt for weeks after and still hurts a month and a half later.
In his last years Barney used to take himself quietly away into another room, lying in a patch of sun, or just sniffing about through our things. Sometimes it used to be hours before I'd realise that I hadn't seen him, being busy myself doing a hundred and one things whilst Jamie was at school. The times we really noticed him were when walking through the door, he'd come rushing at us, happy we were all together again, or when we were camping and he'd be at peace the entire time, enjoying our lack of distractions and how much attention we gave him.
So now, it can be a few hours before I remember him and I feel the pain freshen as I recall that he's not here, not even in a distant room. I can't go and find him, stroke his silky head and get him excited over heading out for a walk. I open the front door, no-one comes rushing to greet me, there's only the echoing emptiness of the house before me, no heartbeat but my own anywhere within it. When I'm out and about there's no-one to come back for within an hour or so, to let out, I can picture the emptiness of the house, almost feel it from however far away I am. When we go camping this summer it will be the first time without him and it will be awful, because he was King of those times, I don't know how we'll bear it, not having him there. Even Jamie says it won't be the same without him, that it will be all wrong to go with no Barney in the car, or the tent, or swimming in the lake.
That first night was one of the few times I've ever seen Justin cry. My eyes were permanently swollen for a week. Christmas, just two days after, was a quiet, thoughtful affair. Our thoughts kept returning to Barney all day, but it made it a special day even if we did spend parts of it crying that he wasn't there to share it. But then he'd have been smelling food cooking all day that he wouldn't have been able to share for the first time ever and that would have been upsetting in itself. When the Christmas decorations came down I left his stocking up, with his toys inside. I think they'll be up for a long time to come.
We had Barney cremated and bought an urn for his ashes, which now sits on top of a large chest in the lounge. I talk to it, even place my hand on it, hoping he can hear me somewhere. Sometimes when I come back I announce to the emptiness that I'm home, longing to hear the sound of him getting up somewhere inside, and I usually say Goodbye when I go out. We have lots of ideas for places where we can scatter his ashes, they won't all go in one place, there were too many much loved spots: Lynn Canyon, Ambleside, Heritage Mountain, Rocky Point Park, Golden Ears campsite, Buntzen Lake, the local boardwalk. He loved them all. But we're not ready yet, there's no urgency, we need him here with us for a time to come.
I don't want anyone reading this to feel guilty about having their sick pet put to sleep. It's a hard decision but I am relieved we made it when we did. I wish Barney could have been with us for Christmas but it was too big a risk and his health was not something I wanted to gamble with. I can't help feeling bad for having to do it but it wasn't my fault that it happened. The blame lies entirely on whatever disease he had, eating away at his insides, destroying his ability to absorb food whilst leaving his heart and brain as healthy as ever. The vet said his energy came from his instinct to hide his sickness from the pack. That his one wish was always to make us happy by being there, as usual, for us. But that it was costing him something to achieve, and we could see that cost every time he tried to keep up with us on a walk. I used to tell him to walk slow, that I'd slow to his pace but he'd keep trying to trot along faster, always wanting to be in front to prepare the path. It was heart-breaking to see.
I still take a walk without him. I actually do the walk he didn't get to do for over a year, as he didn't have the stamina for it any more. I always hope he's there with me in some form or other. I meet people out and about with their dogs. That's a hard one. We can't get another dog as we rent and need to move this year. Renting with a dog around here is next to impossible. I think , even if we could get another, we wouldn't. Barney wasn't just our pet. He was family. He was a huge personality in our lives, completely unique, his reactions to each of us were particular to him and replacing him with another dog would be wrong. Another dog would be exactly that, just a dog. I'm sure in time another dog would be as close to us as Barney. Perhaps. But Barney was his own "person" and none of us is ready to eclipse that. His mourning time will be a long one, perhaps forever in some form or other. I hope to never forget him. I hope I never suffer from dementia and lose the special meaning that was his presence in my life. He was my heart and my soul, as are Justin and Jamie, and I feel ripped apart by his loss. I will never be complete again in the way that I was when he was here.
Love you, Barns, always and forever.
I first saw Barney in, of all places, Metrotown in Burnaby, BC. There used to be a pet-store near the central atrium by the Customer Service desk on the first floor. He was in a cage with his little sister, a smaller, cuter version of himself. Originally, we were supposed to buy one - I wanted a black lab mix female- but once we saw them together neither Justin nor I had the heart to separate them. So, we asked minimal questions - you could see later that this was a mistake but then even after realising that we wouldn't have made a different decision looking back- and bought the pair "as is". I know now the "as is" should have made us suspicious but THEN, we had no clue, not a one.
Barney gave us his first relatable story that very first day. When the employees got the two puppies out we were immediately mobbed by people all wanting to touch, stroke, handle and, for whatever reason, the puppies were passed to strange hands instead of ours and above the crowd I saw Barney passed to an Asian woman, possibly in her early twenties, who, I will never forget, once done with her canine moment, placed Barney down on the floor so that she could continue looking about unhindered. Unbelievable. It took me some moments to manhandle my way through the cooing crowd but once through I was just in time to see Barns wander out of the store then between wondering legs into the middle of the mall. Thankfully, he was so overwhelmed by the unsuspected size of the place outside of his cage that he took a moment to pause, which was all I needed to sneak my hands around his middle and hold tight. Fortunately for the Asian woman she had left before I had the opportunity to do the same to her.
We really hadn't thought any of it through, having acting on pure impulse. Justin and I were still staying in a hotel after moving from the UK to Canada, had no home arranged as yet and were now the proud owners of two puppies with nowhere to put them. We had come to an arrangement with a friendly employee of the store, that he would look after the puppies at his home until we had made other arrangements, but it turned out that he wasn't actually able to. The day after. But he did make his sale ! :-P . So we got in a taxi, picked the two up from the store where it turned out they'd stayed overnight, and found a great animal hospital on Granville, the Anderson A.H, which was just perfect for the two. In more ways than we realised.
It turned out that Laurel ( Barney's sister ) wasn't actually as well as she'd first appeared and she needed immediate treatment. It also turned out that her paperwork wasn't filled in properly and she hadn't completed all of her puppy shots. So, she went into a vet cage whilst Barney was shoved straight into the main boarding area to a room full of oversized, loud dogs. Whereupon he wrapped himself around my leg and tried to climb me, claw by claw. By the time I went in to see him a day later he was wandering under the bigger dogs, happily licking them and playing. That was the base for his super-friendly canine social ability, a never regretted trait. The two puppies also met a large number of warm and friendly staff at Anderson, becoming extremely confident and alert around people, another never regretted trait. Sadly, Laurel only lived with us for a couple of months before she succombed to parvo, a probable consequence of the terrible lack of treatment she'd suffered at the pet shop, as well as her not completing her shots until we bought her. This den of Hades was already closed by this time and good riddance or I might have been tempted to go in there armed with more than just angry words.
Barney, on the other hand, only gained from her death. Sad but true. From the day the ambulance took her he was just happy. He was too young to understand her absence, plus we spoiled him rotten by taking him to all forms of canine heaven in and around Vancouver for months afterwards. Possibly all of this helped in later life as he showed an amazing adaptability to change. A good thing as our lives were filled with nothing but huge changes as we moved him between countries five times during his lifetime. He even endured six months in UK quarantine. Not our favourite choice as we did have other options in that a number of people offered to have him once we realised we had to leave Canada. But we, perhaps selfishly, decided to keep him despite the quarantine. So we had him with us for another seven years and I hope he agreed that it was worth it.
Barney was our first "baby". Our friends who had children kept saying we treated him more like our child than a dog. In some ways I agree with that, now that we have Jamie as our first human "baby". But we didn't baby him, he was always treated as a dog. We just included him in our lives more than a dog normally is included. He came to our friends' houses, we arranged days out for him and piles of presents at Christmas. The positive to that was that he became a part of more people's lives than just our own. Every single one of our friends knew Barney, he was more of a character to them than their own pets in some ways. Or perhaps that's just my perspective.
He quickly established himself in our home, chewing anything made of wood, including: the dining table legs,a potentially suicidal choice given that his bed was underneath it at the time; a wooden statue my Mum had brought back from the Pennsylvania Dutch; and, on an infamous occasion, an entire plastic pot of Body Shop olive body butter, plastic pot and all. That had a devastating effect on his digestive system, very bad timing on his part too as we headed off for a camping weekend that day. His stomach started to make a disturbing, rumbling sound, which initially took us some time to locate. My friend and I practically threw him towards a clearing in the bushes as nothing making a noise like that as a pre-cursor bodes well. All I can liken it to is a tap of green mud pouring out of his bumhole. We both looked on in horror at this sight, even Barney looked over his shoulder at it with a similarly horrified expression. At five minute intervals, over the course of an hour, his tum gave warning rumbles of imminent release. By the third time Barney was starting to stare at it in miserable resignation, which should have been sad to see but was actually increasingly funny. Being self-inflicted and of non-life-threatening proportion.
On another occasion he consumed a string bag of neon plastic 'jacks', all in differing colours of day-glo orange, yellow and green. I think that night made an impression on more than just ourselves as one family after another spotted his "glowing" poop in the gathering dark. Thankfully, no-one got close enough to see who we were as we scuttled off into the night after scooping up our radio-active bag of fun. But at least one person made a loud comment, and who could blame them.
A few weeks after that event we had another, this time during the day. Barney seemed to be straining to pass something, Justin squatted down to see what the problem was and saw something was protruding from his anus ( Barney's, not his own ). He picked up a stick, gave it a gentle poke and realised it was some form of soft plastic. So he hooked the stick through it and began to gently pull. Our eyes widened as the object became longer, then longer and was a good ten inch wonder when the first family rounded the corner to see this miracle. We must have been quite the sight, a black dog, straining his butt a few inches above the ground, and a man bent over behind him, holding a stick to a dog's bum with what turned out to be an entire plastic carrier bag connected between them. Heaven only knows when he'd eaten it, or why, or even how it had managed to travel his entire digestive tract whole. I'm sure we're not the only people who relate that story in disbelief. We'll never know as the father swiftly turned his fascinated children around with just a few words, and a helpful hand back in the direction they'd just come from.
And all this before he was even a year old. In the ensuing years Barney gave us more and more stories, although none with the impact of those from his first year. He travelled to England with us and endeared himself to our families. Then back to Canada but this time to Vancouver Island. He almost didn't make it out there as the day before he was due to travel Justin's company had a financial scare and we were forced to postpone his trip by a week or so. After the Island we all moved to Albany in New York State where Barney enjoyed the harsh winters. His paws suffered a little as it really was shockingly cold there. We bought him some little shoes but, being the unknowing suspicious dog that he is, he refused to believe we were doing it for his own benefit, probably suspecting it to be for our own amusement. So, he kicked them off in the first good dump of snow he could find. You couldn't blame him his paranoia, given that we made him wear a Santa suit his first year, and a blouse, AND took photos. Poor dog. One thing he didn't enjoy out there in NY were the ticks. Horrible little things. He had one on top of his head and a few other places before we invested in monthly medication for them. Justin caved over the expense on the day he found one on his inner thigh, which explained the numbness he'd been feeling for the last twelve hours. The bathroom air was entirely blue that day :-)
Then we moved back to the place of his birth just two years ago. I missed out a story so I'll tell it now. When Barney was finally able to fly over to the Island I picked him up at cargo at Vancouver Airport. It was strange as when I arrived there, I was shown through to a huge warehouse where you're only permitted to stand in a small corner of it, within a yellow painted square on the floor. There was no-one there initially so Jamie and I stood looking about, wondering how Barney's trip had been. There was a wooden crate about twenty feet away which I assumed was empty as there was no movement within and no reaction to our voices when we were speaking. But it turned out to be Barney's travel crate and there he was, just quietly and patiently lying there, as he waited to find out what fresh strangeness was coming. Later, as we drove over Lions Gate Bridge, with Barney upright in the front seat with the belt clipped to a harness, he suddenly caught the scent of one of his favourite walks through the open window. He inhaled so deeply I thought he was going to pass out, and that was when I realised we HAD to take him there instead of straight to the ferry. So Barney spent his first afternoon back in Canada, happily diving into the surf of Burrard Inlet, and lying in the sand with his nose covered in a fine dusting of brown on damp. I always loved watching him enjoy himself like that.
Now here we are again. Only this time Barney was over eight years old, still acting like a puppy in a lot of ways, and still the biggest canine fan of winter I've ever seen. The second that Barney gets outside and realises that there's white on the ground he just runs into it nose first, whether it's four feet deep or four centimetres. But not this year, even though we've only had one snowfall so far and barely an inch at that.
This year Barney started to get sick. We'd noticed him having on and off diarhhoea at the end of last year but didn't consider it, him being notorious for eating grass which gives him a bad tummy from time to time. But when Justin was laid off in February we took him in to the vet for a check-up, to see if he was well enough for his age for a flight to the UK, if necessary. They found that his protein levels weren't normal, which along with his other symptoms meant one of three probably incurable problems. The vets offered a few expensive diagnostic treatments which we decided against for two reasons. The first, which we hated having as a reason, was a lack of finances with Justin out of work. And the second, his age. The best hope, diagnostically, lay in opening him up and spending a couple of hours looking at his intestines where the problem lay. But at his age it was a risk, even with his strong heart. Plus, the last operation Barney had, on his anatomy formerly known as his testicles, when they put the cone on him he kept having panic attacks so we ended up taking it off and just taking turns watching him instead. It would be much harder to stop him attacking his stitches on such an easy to access area even if he did pull through it. Worse, getting a diagnosis did not mean treatment would follow as all three potential diagnoses were terminal and usually untreatable. We looked into our options, researched on the internet, and decided his best chance was changing his diet. And it worked.
During his last eight months Barney steadily lost weight, gradually at first, but in his last month quite a bit faster. But he recovered from the diarrhoea and was happy and energetic again, which was all we could ask for. We went camping at Alouette Lake, which he loved, all of us sleeping in the tent together, and we snuck him down to the Lake for a swim. A big No No, but, come on, we're were in his natural territory here. I took him to North Vancouver to his old walk along Lynn Canyon, both of us keeping fit as I strode along and he ran alongside. We went to Starbucks together, he loved finishing off my coffees, he'd put his nose into the cup and lift it skywards to get the final remnants, hilarious to see and sadly I have no photo now to help me remember. But mostly we kept him company at home and he lay on my feet and breathed in and out whilst I wrote on here, or watched a film.
For years I've laid next to Barney on the floor, occasionally crying about something or other but never as frequently as I did once we realised that he was on his final decline. I've cried over him having to go through quarantine even before we put him on the plane. I've cried over moving away from family and not knowing anyone in Canada I've cried as I watched him get fatter in quarantine, when he had a huge abscess in his head which needed painful draining. It's funny because Barney isn't one of those dogs who comes and comforts you as a rule. Sometimes he comes, wagging his tail tentatively at the end, other times he lies in a different part of the room as though you weren't even present. But he has always been there in some form or another and always appreciated.
I wish there had been some way of explaining to him just how much he meant to us. I hope that he knew but I wish there were a way to be sure. I wish he could understand why, this time, I couldn't help to make him more comfortable, why I couldn't do some "magical" thing that fixed all his woes, in the same way that I could spot a painful stone in his paw, or a cut in his pad, or an abscess that needed draining. Every procedure he ever needed doing I was there to stroke him and calm him down. Vets all over the world have marvelled at his passiveness during sometimes painful treatments, but then he trusted us to know what we were doing. Which is why this last time it was so heart-breaking to see him look at us in confusion as he gradually starved to death, as his body failed to absorb the food that we gave him four times daily or more.
Twice in his last month he stole food, left in a place we thought he couldn't reach. Once it was grapes and he needed his stomach pumped, an expensive and invasive treatment but life-restoring so that we could have him around for as long as possible. Then another day he stole my son's "gingerbread" ( actually crackers ) house which was covered in cereal, sweets and icing. He suffered for that one with more than twelve hours of explosive diarrhoea which left him drained, stiff and tender.
We didn't know how much longer we would have together. We kept thinking it would be so easy to take him to the vet to be put to sleep in peace and comfort, after all, he wasn't comfortable on his walk anymore and we couldn't make him better, we could only give him a certain level of "comfort". But then I'd see him lift his head alertly, and eat his dinner with enthusiasm, how he reacted with pleasure when I pretended to creep up to "get him" and how he could walk about inside the house at least without seeming stiff or ill. So I'd put it off for another day, thinking the vet wouldn't believe us if we took him in. But he got thinner and when I petted him all I could feel were his bones under his coat and you could see them as he moved, and I just wanted to cry and stop it once and for all.
So who knew what would happen or what was the best thing to do. A selfish part of me wanted him to be here for Christmas, to see him open his last presents and to enjoy the day, even as another part of me knew that the vet's would be closed soon and that if he took a rapid downturn it would be more time and money both he and we couldn't spare. But I loved him with all of my heart and wished he could just get better miraculously because his heart was still strong, and his brain still alert, and his coat so soft that he couldn't be going already. I wished that could happen. If that could be my only Christmas present I'd have taken it without a second thought.
But as it turned out the gingerbread house was the finishing of him. Only a day later I noticed blood in his stool, called Justin at work and he made arrangements to come home early and take Barney to the vets. We weren't sure what would happen but needed to do something, to ask someone else advice as to when the best time was for him to be put to sleep. Once Justin was home we opened Barney's Christmas presents with him, it was two days early but we wanted to do something, just in case. He was so excited. He ripped the paper off and took his presents, one at a time, behind the couch where he chewed at the squeaking bone with enthusiasm, tossing it to one side from his mouth and then pulling it back with the claws of his paw.
Once we took him down to the garage in the lift he ran excitedly to the car, finding energy from goodness only where, he was so thin it was always extraordinary how he kept going so energetically. We arrived at the vets, booked in and sat, petting him gently, feeling a little absurd bringing this apparently healthy, alert-looking dog for an emergency appointment. The vet welcomed us into a consulting room, we explained the situation to her, asking for advice as to what to do. Initially she talked of keeping a journal on how he was doing, what he was eating, what his stools were like. I started to feel a little overcome, after sharing the last weeks with her and excused myself, needing some fresh air. The second I opened the door Barney tried to follow me, he'd always point himself at the door, ready to leave, never a big fan of the vets but tolerating every trip. I literally had to push him back in, he was so determined to come with me. Which of course only upset me more.
I stood outside, wondering how much longer we could do this when Justin came out with Jamie to tell me they'd decided to have him put to sleep. Right then. The vet had already gone into the back to prepare the medicine. I was shocked. I'd half expected it, had almost hoped for it in one sense, as it was truly terrible to watch Barney go through this experience. But it was still too soon, I wasn't ready. But the vet agreed, once Justin had said we were ready if she felt it were his time, that he was in grave danger of sudden collapse. Which would have been an awful experience for him to go through, especially if it happened whilst he was alone. Justin had said he would stay with him whilst it happened, that they'd bring him outside for me to say Goodbye to beforehand. But I knew it had to be me that stayed with him. I'd been there to keep him calm through every upset, every procedure and, no matter how hard, I had to be there for this last time.
I'll never forget it. I went back in, with red-rimmed eyes, as Barney looked at me worriedly. The vet came in with a red blanket which Barney laid on as soon as she placed it on the floor. I kneeled next to him, stroking his head as she injected his last ever dose of medicine, and told him it was all going to be alright, keeping him calm as it took effect. I felt like the worst parent on the planet as he began to struggle against the effects, still stroking his head and telling him it was going to be alright when I knew everything was going to be very much the opposite of alright. His head began to grow heavy so I lowered it gently onto the floor as his breathing grew suddenly laboured in his effort to reverse what was happening. Which he couldn't and I hated those few seconds whilst that went on. It was soon over. The vet placed a stethoscope next to his chest, his heartbeat had stopped.
I know we had to do it. I know it would have been worse for him to experience the pain of his illness, which would have been unbearable, not to mention frightening for him to go through. But I still feel pain in my chest at the thought that we robbed him of who knows how many days or possibly weeks that he had left before that happened. Perhaps it was only hours away, we'll never know. It's a decision most pet owners have to make at some point, whether to wait for the pain or prevent it ever being experienced. All I know is that I had to put my beautiful, loving, playful, alert dog to sleep before his time and it hurts. It hurt to see his presents lying on the floor where he'd left them only an hour before when we returned home. It hurt all night as I looked on here through all the many photos we had of him. And it hurt for weeks after and still hurts a month and a half later.
In his last years Barney used to take himself quietly away into another room, lying in a patch of sun, or just sniffing about through our things. Sometimes it used to be hours before I'd realise that I hadn't seen him, being busy myself doing a hundred and one things whilst Jamie was at school. The times we really noticed him were when walking through the door, he'd come rushing at us, happy we were all together again, or when we were camping and he'd be at peace the entire time, enjoying our lack of distractions and how much attention we gave him.
So now, it can be a few hours before I remember him and I feel the pain freshen as I recall that he's not here, not even in a distant room. I can't go and find him, stroke his silky head and get him excited over heading out for a walk. I open the front door, no-one comes rushing to greet me, there's only the echoing emptiness of the house before me, no heartbeat but my own anywhere within it. When I'm out and about there's no-one to come back for within an hour or so, to let out, I can picture the emptiness of the house, almost feel it from however far away I am. When we go camping this summer it will be the first time without him and it will be awful, because he was King of those times, I don't know how we'll bear it, not having him there. Even Jamie says it won't be the same without him, that it will be all wrong to go with no Barney in the car, or the tent, or swimming in the lake.
That first night was one of the few times I've ever seen Justin cry. My eyes were permanently swollen for a week. Christmas, just two days after, was a quiet, thoughtful affair. Our thoughts kept returning to Barney all day, but it made it a special day even if we did spend parts of it crying that he wasn't there to share it. But then he'd have been smelling food cooking all day that he wouldn't have been able to share for the first time ever and that would have been upsetting in itself. When the Christmas decorations came down I left his stocking up, with his toys inside. I think they'll be up for a long time to come.
We had Barney cremated and bought an urn for his ashes, which now sits on top of a large chest in the lounge. I talk to it, even place my hand on it, hoping he can hear me somewhere. Sometimes when I come back I announce to the emptiness that I'm home, longing to hear the sound of him getting up somewhere inside, and I usually say Goodbye when I go out. We have lots of ideas for places where we can scatter his ashes, they won't all go in one place, there were too many much loved spots: Lynn Canyon, Ambleside, Heritage Mountain, Rocky Point Park, Golden Ears campsite, Buntzen Lake, the local boardwalk. He loved them all. But we're not ready yet, there's no urgency, we need him here with us for a time to come.
I don't want anyone reading this to feel guilty about having their sick pet put to sleep. It's a hard decision but I am relieved we made it when we did. I wish Barney could have been with us for Christmas but it was too big a risk and his health was not something I wanted to gamble with. I can't help feeling bad for having to do it but it wasn't my fault that it happened. The blame lies entirely on whatever disease he had, eating away at his insides, destroying his ability to absorb food whilst leaving his heart and brain as healthy as ever. The vet said his energy came from his instinct to hide his sickness from the pack. That his one wish was always to make us happy by being there, as usual, for us. But that it was costing him something to achieve, and we could see that cost every time he tried to keep up with us on a walk. I used to tell him to walk slow, that I'd slow to his pace but he'd keep trying to trot along faster, always wanting to be in front to prepare the path. It was heart-breaking to see.
I still take a walk without him. I actually do the walk he didn't get to do for over a year, as he didn't have the stamina for it any more. I always hope he's there with me in some form or other. I meet people out and about with their dogs. That's a hard one. We can't get another dog as we rent and need to move this year. Renting with a dog around here is next to impossible. I think , even if we could get another, we wouldn't. Barney wasn't just our pet. He was family. He was a huge personality in our lives, completely unique, his reactions to each of us were particular to him and replacing him with another dog would be wrong. Another dog would be exactly that, just a dog. I'm sure in time another dog would be as close to us as Barney. Perhaps. But Barney was his own "person" and none of us is ready to eclipse that. His mourning time will be a long one, perhaps forever in some form or other. I hope to never forget him. I hope I never suffer from dementia and lose the special meaning that was his presence in my life. He was my heart and my soul, as are Justin and Jamie, and I feel ripped apart by his loss. I will never be complete again in the way that I was when he was here.
Love you, Barns, always and forever.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Vacancy
Review of Vacancy with Kate Beckinsale and Luke Wilson.
I wasn't quite sure what I was going to make of this, mostly due to the fact that Luke Wilson was playing one of the main characters. It's not as though he chooses parts in the most entertaining of films, let's be honest here. The only one that comes to mind - and I'm only saying this is entertaining, not good - is Home Fries. Even then I think Drew Barrymore saved the movie from the bottom of the heap.
There's not a great deal of originality here, and perhaps other movies have dealt with the story in a better way. But, despite that, it does scare your pants down to the ankles, although not quite off you. Or perhaps I'm turning into a big girl's blouse in my dotage about thrill / horror movies. But I doubt it. My own son's life ambition is to scare me. In seven years he hasn't achieved this. He really is trying too, bless his heart.
The movie begins with Kate and Luke in a car. She is waking up from a nap whilst he's trying to navigate after making the unwise decision to leave the interstate to drive through the unknown backcountry. But of course, you say. Standard horror film character mistake. You realise, fairly quickly, that all is not well in their marriage. Again, an original starter for a horror movie, the fighting couple. Yawn. Add to this another unoriginal theme, their only child died some time ago. Does anybody else hate it when they throw that into a movie ? Completely unnecessary. It's a cheap pull on the heart strings, the idea being that you're supposed to feel " Oh no, they've been through so much already". Instead, it takes something away from the story. Why can't they be fighting about something, anything, else ?
So. They start to experience car trouble after a near miss with a raccoon, ( little light relief there ) pull into a closed garage and have their first scare with a friendly mechanic popping up next to the window. When exactly did this " scare " idea start, anybody know ? Personally, I much prefer the creepy atmosphere set by old black and white horror movies as opposed to the "make 'em jump" tactics used today. Their mechanic friend redirects them back to the interstate after checking out their car - what a nice man - but within a mile it dies. They decide to walk back to the garage only to find it deserted, forcing them into the decision to check into the motel next door, which is run by a strangely humoured manager. The manager happens to be watching somebody screaming on the TV in the room behind the lobby. I mean, who wouldn't ? Just the kind of unfriendly atmosphere I look for in a motel. Of course, the assumption is that it's just your regular, run-of-the-mill horror flick. But we all know better, don't we ?
As they're settling into their room they're disturbed by an unseen person knocking first on their door, then the connecting door to their room. They call in the manager to sort out this annoying "guest" although he assures them that they are the only people staying there that night. If this were me ( if I'd been daft enough to get into this situation in the first place ) I'd hang around to see who the manager finds. But not Luke, he returns to the room, selects a video, and finds himself watching what he thinks is a scary slasher movie. Until he realises that said movie is set in the very room they are in. But does he inform his wife and get the hell out of there ? No. He starts to investigate, finding cameras recording them from various parts of the room. So the scene is set. Two stupid people, spending a painful amount of time, in a room where someone has died and where they have already been antagonised by an unseen stranger. As per the film they have just watched someone die in. WHY AREN'T YOU BOTH RUNNING ??
This first part took up almost half of the movie running time, or it seemed to. The remaining time was spent watching the two leads attempting to escape their fate. Initially, by contacting the police. Fail. Then by running about like headless chickens. Apart from the moments when Kate, oddly enough, found the time, and inclination, to take two additional naps to the one in the car. Admittedly, my first instinct at night, when scared, is to pull a duvet over my head. But the important distinction here is that I don't sleep under it at the same time as being frightened out of my wits.
In the special features commentary the directors and crew talked of taking a new direction with this movie. But I really didn't see anything to indicate that. It was exciting at times. We found ourselves on the verge of something happening, sitting on the edge of our seats practically. But then each time it fizzled out. I think these moments were supposed to bring about an atmosphere of unpredictability but instead we felt frustrated. You could see the exact moments where something more could have been done just by carrying these ideas further. THAT was the atmosphere we found ourselves in. Maddening to see a story ruined this way.
The actual idea, the entire premise behind this story, is that the antagonists are making a snuff movie. So dragging the story out added to the effect. To the characters. Apparently, this makes for a quality snuff film but not being someone who spends any time watching them I can't say what the prospective viewers would demand. But I truly can't see anyone paying to watch someone sit about for an entire hour or more waiting for a psycho to burst in and start stabbing happily away. There's build-up and then there's just " Get on with it !"
Luckily, we don't have to watch for an hour but still, there were breaks in the story that didn't make sense. You get the impression, from the previous movies these murderers had made, that they usually burst in shortly after the initial scare but not so with Kate and Luke. Perhaps they just liked looking at Kate, or perhaps their viewers wanted a little build-up. Well, in that case they definitely got it. And then some.
Frank Whaley did a great job of playing the quirkily odd and creepy manager. Definitely a convincing performance. Luke Wilson did better than expected, perhaps his style is maturing with age. Kate, I'm not sure. I usually like her but I'm not sure how I'd rate her in this. Perhaps that's down to the annoying character that she plays. I suppose in that sense she did a great job because you end up being very frustrated with her. " Why didn't you take a second and put the receiver back in the cradle you dozy cow !!"
Overall, not a bad movie. I'd give it 5 out of 10, it does give you a scare. Perhaps scarier still is the fact that in the Special Features you have the option to watch extended versions of the snuff films shown in the movie. I think not. Not my cup of tea but feel free.
I wasn't quite sure what I was going to make of this, mostly due to the fact that Luke Wilson was playing one of the main characters. It's not as though he chooses parts in the most entertaining of films, let's be honest here. The only one that comes to mind - and I'm only saying this is entertaining, not good - is Home Fries. Even then I think Drew Barrymore saved the movie from the bottom of the heap.
There's not a great deal of originality here, and perhaps other movies have dealt with the story in a better way. But, despite that, it does scare your pants down to the ankles, although not quite off you. Or perhaps I'm turning into a big girl's blouse in my dotage about thrill / horror movies. But I doubt it. My own son's life ambition is to scare me. In seven years he hasn't achieved this. He really is trying too, bless his heart.
The movie begins with Kate and Luke in a car. She is waking up from a nap whilst he's trying to navigate after making the unwise decision to leave the interstate to drive through the unknown backcountry. But of course, you say. Standard horror film character mistake. You realise, fairly quickly, that all is not well in their marriage. Again, an original starter for a horror movie, the fighting couple. Yawn. Add to this another unoriginal theme, their only child died some time ago. Does anybody else hate it when they throw that into a movie ? Completely unnecessary. It's a cheap pull on the heart strings, the idea being that you're supposed to feel " Oh no, they've been through so much already". Instead, it takes something away from the story. Why can't they be fighting about something, anything, else ?
So. They start to experience car trouble after a near miss with a raccoon, ( little light relief there ) pull into a closed garage and have their first scare with a friendly mechanic popping up next to the window. When exactly did this " scare " idea start, anybody know ? Personally, I much prefer the creepy atmosphere set by old black and white horror movies as opposed to the "make 'em jump" tactics used today. Their mechanic friend redirects them back to the interstate after checking out their car - what a nice man - but within a mile it dies. They decide to walk back to the garage only to find it deserted, forcing them into the decision to check into the motel next door, which is run by a strangely humoured manager. The manager happens to be watching somebody screaming on the TV in the room behind the lobby. I mean, who wouldn't ? Just the kind of unfriendly atmosphere I look for in a motel. Of course, the assumption is that it's just your regular, run-of-the-mill horror flick. But we all know better, don't we ?
As they're settling into their room they're disturbed by an unseen person knocking first on their door, then the connecting door to their room. They call in the manager to sort out this annoying "guest" although he assures them that they are the only people staying there that night. If this were me ( if I'd been daft enough to get into this situation in the first place ) I'd hang around to see who the manager finds. But not Luke, he returns to the room, selects a video, and finds himself watching what he thinks is a scary slasher movie. Until he realises that said movie is set in the very room they are in. But does he inform his wife and get the hell out of there ? No. He starts to investigate, finding cameras recording them from various parts of the room. So the scene is set. Two stupid people, spending a painful amount of time, in a room where someone has died and where they have already been antagonised by an unseen stranger. As per the film they have just watched someone die in. WHY AREN'T YOU BOTH RUNNING ??
This first part took up almost half of the movie running time, or it seemed to. The remaining time was spent watching the two leads attempting to escape their fate. Initially, by contacting the police. Fail. Then by running about like headless chickens. Apart from the moments when Kate, oddly enough, found the time, and inclination, to take two additional naps to the one in the car. Admittedly, my first instinct at night, when scared, is to pull a duvet over my head. But the important distinction here is that I don't sleep under it at the same time as being frightened out of my wits.
In the special features commentary the directors and crew talked of taking a new direction with this movie. But I really didn't see anything to indicate that. It was exciting at times. We found ourselves on the verge of something happening, sitting on the edge of our seats practically. But then each time it fizzled out. I think these moments were supposed to bring about an atmosphere of unpredictability but instead we felt frustrated. You could see the exact moments where something more could have been done just by carrying these ideas further. THAT was the atmosphere we found ourselves in. Maddening to see a story ruined this way.
The actual idea, the entire premise behind this story, is that the antagonists are making a snuff movie. So dragging the story out added to the effect. To the characters. Apparently, this makes for a quality snuff film but not being someone who spends any time watching them I can't say what the prospective viewers would demand. But I truly can't see anyone paying to watch someone sit about for an entire hour or more waiting for a psycho to burst in and start stabbing happily away. There's build-up and then there's just " Get on with it !"
Luckily, we don't have to watch for an hour but still, there were breaks in the story that didn't make sense. You get the impression, from the previous movies these murderers had made, that they usually burst in shortly after the initial scare but not so with Kate and Luke. Perhaps they just liked looking at Kate, or perhaps their viewers wanted a little build-up. Well, in that case they definitely got it. And then some.
Frank Whaley did a great job of playing the quirkily odd and creepy manager. Definitely a convincing performance. Luke Wilson did better than expected, perhaps his style is maturing with age. Kate, I'm not sure. I usually like her but I'm not sure how I'd rate her in this. Perhaps that's down to the annoying character that she plays. I suppose in that sense she did a great job because you end up being very frustrated with her. " Why didn't you take a second and put the receiver back in the cradle you dozy cow !!"
Overall, not a bad movie. I'd give it 5 out of 10, it does give you a scare. Perhaps scarier still is the fact that in the Special Features you have the option to watch extended versions of the snuff films shown in the movie. I think not. Not my cup of tea but feel free.
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