The Journal of Phil Walling|
07/31/2006 12:40 a.m.
MY FUNNY THUMB
Back in high school, I had a crush on my father's friend's daughter. One time, we all went vacationing to Quebec to go skiing. S and I were lying down in the back of Dad's station wagon under the sleeping bag covers. I said to S. 'Hey, I've got a funny thumb - want to feel it?' She said 'sure'. My thumb is double jointed. She felt it and said 'that is interesting'. I said, 'hold up, let me move a bit and you can feel it some more..' I shifted and she reached out to feel it and I lowered my hand down to my waist and *gasp* pulled it out. (Not my thumb). I said 'now feel it...' She did and said 'that does feel funny' and as I started to touch her stomach, my sister who was in the seat in front of us asked us 'What are you two doing?' Embarrassed we stopped feeling each other's appendages and talked of other things...
Fast forward about thirty years and I get this call. It's S.! She asked if she could come over, I said 'sure'... After a bit of chit chat, she reminded me of my funny thumb. I'd forgotten to be honest, but she said she had a crush on me for years. Needless to say, a 'circle' was completed that night...
She went back home (which is about three thousand miles away) and we still keep in touch.
THREE SURPRISES IN ONE DAY
#1 I email my sister to offer my best wishes on her birthday and apologize that I wasn't able to send her a present in time but one is in the mail. She emails me back with pics of her newborns - bloody twins! No one down here knew she was preggers, but sure enough she had twins and at her age too! She's 46.
#2 I am browsing the magazine rack of all the trash rags (supermaket tabloids) when I notice that my ex wife is on the cover of one of the local ones. I pick it up and there is a photo collage of a wedding (done photo shop style). Apparently she's getting married again and I have to read about it in a gossip trash mag?! Not only that but it leads me to surprise #3
#3 I'm in it too! Apparently, the article decided to do a bio of the ex, and I was given almost two paragraphs. Holy mackerel, Batman! I am referred to as a 'self proclaimed radio criminal - who's music is scary'. I'm paraphrasing...
I'm in semi retirement mode these days. My daughter is going to Mauritius for a month and I'm trying to decide if I should spend $100 for a standing up ticket or $350 for a special reserve ticket to see the Rolling Stones in September.
Life is rough....
I am currently Bemused
I am listening to Robert Fripp
02/01/2006 04:41 p.m.
thanks for hanging in there.
It is coming up to the one year anniversary of Mouli's death and the sorrow is still there. Mostly I am numb from it all and haven't felt much like posting. It's perculiar that the death of a dog would be such a life changing experience but I've been hanging in there and trying to simply move on.
The new dog, Abitha Krispie or Abitha Pipsqueak, I haven't settled yet on her full name, brings both joy and diversion as well as frustration. She is a little clown with not a single aggressive bone in her body. She's also a bolter who believes the world is her oyster and wants to explore and live every day to the fullest. She'd also sell her soul for cheeseburger.
We have been going to 'dog church' twice a day (weather pending). This is where all the dogs congregate and swap tails (I mean tales), through their own methods of communication. We have Grace, the sheppherd, Chinook, a giant husky, Amber a white poodle, Diesal a perky terrier, two Burmese Mountain dogs, Hannah and Hector, Oreo, a collie, Nemo (a ????), who protected Abbie when she first showed up and a bunch of other dogs.
Dog Church is a congregation of dogs near where I live which gathers in old fort, so the walls border the property and they are contained.
The first time she joined the congregation, she rolled on her back and peed herself while all the other dogs gathered around her in a circle as though they were saying; "Hey come and check out the silly labbie pissing herself".
Normally, the parents (re owners), would bring toys and such that the dogs would all share and frolic with. However, Abbie's toys seem to attract the most attention. I bought her a squeaker and a giggle ball. She loves to be chased. Since Abbie was born in the village, her brothers sometimes make it out to Dog Church. Jib already has arthrities and a droopy eye. He's the sweeter of the two and is very doting, but I don't think he'll live that long. Max Henry, the other brother, is very much like Abbie but is even more of a bolter than Abbie.
I had a dream about 'Dog Church' a while back. I dreamt that all the dogs had the same name. The name "Cookie'. Reason: the owners frustrated that the dogs wouldn't come to them, tempt them with treats - hence they all respond to 'cookie'.
Something odd happened to me about two weeks ago:
My father phoned me up to say that he heard that my step father had died. Needless to say I was shattered. My brother a few minutes later phoned me to offer the same news and if I needed help to go to England for the funeral, he would help me. Then my Mom phoned up a few hours later to say that they had just got back from Paris and they had a wonderful time. I asked how David (my step father) was doing. She said fine, why, did someone have a dream about him/ I said that "maybe", and asked if I could talk to him. I did and for a moment, it felt like I was talking to the dead. I told him about my morning and we decided that the rumours of his death were greatly exaggerated. A few hours later, my Mom had phoned again to say that they had been fielding calls from all over the world offering condolences. Funny eh?
I've decided to play more live shows.
Someone had me googled on eBay for years looking for new material. Finally he emailed a local radio station to enquire. They sent me a copy and I sent him a CD and a 45, no charge.
I did an all ages show a month ago, sandwiched between two metal bands. It was unbelievably successful and a great way to start off the New Year! Girls were screaming (and in a good way) and I got an encore. I was totally surprised and I felt like a Beatle for a moment.
I 've also got a stalker. Some girl who I spurned is trying to embarras me on the net and in our community. I guess you got to take the good with the bad.
That's all for now!
I love you all....
I am currently Blessed
01/28/2006 02:18 p.m.
Life is a nothing that is something and that's all.
04/09/2005 01:53 p.m.
Life for me, is getting better and I'm having less moments of sadness about Mouli.
Everyone seems to like lists so I thought I would make my own. The following is a list of all the pets and animals in my life in their order of appearance.
1. Timmy - the poodle, came from England to Canada where we had to give him up because the apartment we lived in would not allow dogs.
2. Sinbad - gray long haired cat, rescued from the SPCA. A big floppy male cat who slept in the closet
3. Cissy and Snoopy - Minature Schnauzers. Snoopy (the male) loved to chase the milkman and one day got hit by the truck. Cissy lived to a ripe old age and love to howl to Pink Floyd. One day the neighbours guinea pigs got loose and they brought home about twenty, all alive except for one.
4. Steppenwolf - a snoodle (half poodle half schnauzer). Adopted by a minister.
5. Tibbles two stroke - black cat with a two stroke purr. A flopsie male cat.
6. Frodo the Rabbit - a huge white rabbit bigger than the Schnauzers! Lovely lazy and very affectionate
7. Chirpy the Chicken - loved to walk on a little 'chicken leash' around the neighbourhood after a rain storm eating worms washed up from lawns.
The above were family pets, then I had:
8. Ms Mello D. Coonhound - a black and tan coonhound who travelled two countries with me in a volkswagen customized van with a Porsche engine which could bury the needle. Also attended two weddings and was the dog of honour at one of them
9. Miffin - a tortie cat, faithful companion to Mouli. She is still around.
10. Mouli - my favourite and much missed. See previous entries...
Yesterday we were at 'Pets Unlimited' and we came across a lovely Golden Retriever pup. She just laid in my arms like a little baby and was very calm. I was so tempted to buy her. I go to pets stores to get a 'doggie' fix.
I still have mixed emotions about raising another animal so soon after Mouli, but my goodness, she was so nice. I'm half tempted to go there right now and snap her up. Is it too soon? Should I just find a mix like Mouli was? A lab mix maybe?
In other news, a friend of mine committed suicide last week. In the Mouli entries, you may notice that I met
Mouli through a job I was doing with someone else, clearing out a record store. That 'someone else' is the person in question.
I told him when Mouli died and gave him a copy of Mouli's biography that no matter if we had a bad arguement or whatever, that I would never ever be able to have bad thoughts or hatred towards him considering that my relationship with him led to my meeting Mouli and that he was indirectly responsible for me having a wonderful association with such a special animal. We hugged and he was happy at that moment.
I also gave him my poem 'Mortal World'.
Anyway, on April 1st, he committed suicide in the basement of his store while customers were browsing upstairs through the stacks.
I'm organizing a memorial for him next Sunday.
Rest in peace Bob.
Love and peace
I am currently Unsure
I am listening to Folk music
MOULI'S ANNIVERSARY & VISIT
03/23/2005 02:55 p.m.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
It's Mouli's one month anniversary death day, to the hour.
Miffin and I are starting to surface again.
We still have our moments but they are less frequent.
I expect to dream of Mouli tonight.*
Love your pets and treasure life.
*added later: It's 6:15 in the AM. and I was right. Mouli came to visit last night in my dreams. It was the first time since she passed over and maybe the last, but I hope not. We were hugging on the floor and I checked for lumps and she had none. For the moment I had forgotten she had passed. I said "Mouli give us a hug." She was already turning to leave the room, but came back and put her paws on my shoulder. I had already realized that this was a dream by then but I tried so hard to hold on to the moment. She left and I woke up.
Thanks Mouli, I love you so much and miss you awfully..
I am currently Melancholy
I am listening to my breathing
TIME TO MOVE ON...
03/02/2005 01:23 p.m.
A week has passed, and it's time to move on. Mouli in ash form, will return to me soon.
I made a donation in Mouli's name to our local SPCA.
Even though the sadness still hangs heavy on my shoulders, I have had a lot of love and support sent my way by family and friends.
At least I still have my cat friend Miffin to share the sorrow, and she has been a great comfort.
In a couple of days, I will make these last few entries 'private'.
It's sad to re-read them everytime I log on.
I will copy all your comments for future comfort.
In the meantime, if any of my readers wish to copy my entries for future reference and to remember Mouli, than now is the time to do it.
I want to group hug all of you and to group hug all your animal companions.
Thank you all...
WAITING FOR MY DOG TO DIE Part Two
02/25/2005 07:11 p.m.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Mouli has a date with her maker at 7:40 tonight. About three hours from now.
Hazel and I took her for a long walk in Point Pleasant Park today, She ran around sniffing other dogs and was very happy. We told her that this is what 'doggie heaven' is like. That, she'll have lots of other dogs to play with and every dog is healthy and happy. She was panting, but very joyful.
Then we took her to MacDonald's for a Happy Meal (girl's). She ate most of her cheeseburger. I noticed earlier in the day that the cancer was in her mouth as she had a sore on her tongue.
She gave Hazel her last allowance and they spent a little time together by themselves.
Later, Mouli and I had a little lie down and cuddled. She likes to lie down facing me and we snuffled. She was breathing in shorter breaths.
Tonight will be the first time in thirteen years that I've been without her. Pray that her soul gets to doggie heaven okay.
Damn I'm going to miss her!
Mouli est mort....
December 10th 1992 to February 22nd 2005
Thursday, February 24, 2005
I am emotionally overwhelmed and I thank each and everyone of you.
I wasn't going to write about Mouli anymore since it's seems that Mouli's passing was a finality in itself. However, I feel the need to tie some loose ends up.
The last I talked about was going to make Mouli's steak., her last meal. She was remarkable right to the end. My friend J. came over a couple of hours before her date with her maker. Mouli was always very happy to see J. She bounded up the yard to greet him, interrupting her dinner. J. and I hand fed the rest of her dinner to her. Then she and J. went outside and she did her tricks for him, chasing her tail etc and for the first time that I've ever witnessed, licked J. on the face..
Inside the house, Mouli presented all her toys to J. one at at a time, showed Jay her toy and then took it back to the big pile. She nipped and marked each toy one last time, and everything was given some degree of attention.
"Isn't there anything we can do?" J. asked as we examined her cancer ridden body one more time. There were lesions everywhere. Some were red raw.
"Well as long as she's still eating...?" J. inquired.
"She's not really eating... She's off dog food, cheese, peanut butter, milk. The only thing she's eating is steak and that was hand fed. I think her smell and taste is affected." I replied as Mouli watched panting.
Then I let J. and Mouli spend some time alone and J. started crying. I was already teary eyed. J. told me he hadn't felt this sad since his father died. He offered to come with me to the vet. I said "No, it's something I have to do myself." J. hugged Mouli one last time. J. and I hugged and then he left....
Mouli went upstairs and laid down on the big bed as though to prepare for the evening's wind down. Miffin the cat was there. I brought Mouli and Miffin together and they snuffled and rubbed each other. Ten minutes to go, "C'mon Mouli, let's go for a car ride!" She hesitated, but followed me. I took one of her favourite stuffed toys with me, a Mr. Wrinkles.
At the vet, I asked one last time if there was nothing we could do? The treatment, not guaranteed, would be worse than the cure. Lots of chemo, very expensive drugs and treatments and an animal with need of constant medical supervision and at her age, an inevitable death anyway. In other words, an even sadder way to go.
"Okay then, let's get on with it..." I replied.
At the moment of her passing, I held her and Mr. Wrinkles. I told her how much I loved her and how she was such a good girl and how much her daddy was going to miss her. I again reminded her of how she was going to a wonderful park where all the dogs were healthy and happy. I told her that Hazel would look after Mr. Wrinkles for her. I held her head and she looked at me with those beautiful soulful doggy eyes as she passed over.
Mouli est mort.
After spending some time with Hazel and giving her Mr. Wrinkles, I went home. I got all of Mouli's toys and put them on my bed. I placed a photo of Mouli lying on the bed next to me.
Mouli's sister, the cat Miffin was looking all around for Mouli. She went to all her spots where Mouli would lie down and she checked them all. Miffin had lost her purr, I carried her around with me and hugged and cuddled her.
I slept a fitful sleep.
The next morning was awful. I realized the reality of this passing again. I wept. Miffin came and comforted me. Still no purr though. She kept looking out of the window. I took a personal day and didn't work.
Later that day, I got a stuffed puppy from Mouli's pile, and put Mouli's collar on it. I held Miffin in my arms like a baby and rubbed the toy as though it was Mouli sniffing her, and she started to purr. The purr was getting louder and content again. Then she detached herself from me. Looked at the toy as though it was something really creepy, and went to lie down on the bed. She still purrs for me, but it is a broken purr, and I can tell.
This morning she heard me sniffle and came and laid down next to me. After I got up, she went back to looking out of the window.
I made some errors in the previous memoirs about Mouli. Mouli was in fact, 12 years and 2 months. Miffin is about six months older than Mouli. Miffin has always had Mouli to protect her and snuggle with. I've had Mouli since she was eight weeks old, so I guess that would be twelve years pretty well exactly.
Miffin hasn't been out since Mouli's passing and I'm not sure I want her out. She might do some crazy cat thing. Now is the time to give Miffin some extra personal attention and love.
I'm suppose to get Mouli's ashes back tomorrow.
I still have a lot to do, like clean the house up, vacuum dog hairs, do a laundry and throw out half cans of dog food. Everything reminds me of Mouli, like her turds in the yard and footprints in the snow, slowly eroding away.
I hope that my words about Mouli will help you cope with what is the inevitable for all your favourite little animal companions, and it has helped me to write it.
Hug your pet and love them dearly. They are little angels sent down to protect and care for you as you are their protectors too...
Love and peace to all
I am currently Sad
I am listening to my cat breathe
WAITING FOR MY DOG TO DIE Part One
02/21/2005 12:51 a.m.
Waiting For My Dog To Die
INTRO: Mouli has cancer. Any day now, she will have to be put down.
Part One: A brief history
For the last thirteen years a special animal called Mouli has been my constant companion. There is nothing she wouldn’t do for me if she understood what I wanted.
About thirteen years ago, I was doing an errand with a friend of mine in one of our local shopping centers (Bayer’s lake). I had a van at the time and was helping my friend move some record bins from a ‘going out of business’ record store. After the van was loaded, I wondered down the hall to check the pet store as I did every time I visited the mall. A litter of lab / shepherd mixes had just come in. I saw the boys first, and they were cute enough, but in behind the litter in the corner sat a shivery little pup with the most adorable face. I ‘heard’ violins, and the music ‘peaked’ as I got closer and our eyes met. I knew she was the one for me. It was love at first sight.
I picked her up. I asked “How much?” The clerk said “$35.00” and the first vaccinations were done already. I knew we belonged. I paid my money and asked the clerk to hold the pup for an hour while I finished with my friend and the bins.
After I dropped my friend off, I went back to get my pup. She was waiting. I put her in the back of the van and she sat spread eagled, bewildered and looking about. I spoke to myself, “Now what am I going to call you? You remind me a lot of my old dog, since deceased whose name was Melody but everyone called her Mello. I used to say that Mello (who was a black and tan coonhound), was a ‘mouli’ dog. It was just a sound really, sort of like baby talk for dogs.
That’s it! Her name would be ‘Mouli’ and within the first hour of being with her, that’s what she became known as.
I also had a cat at the time, Miffin, barely a year old. A ten pounder, half a kitten, half a muffin. She is brindled. She had matching markings to Mouli. They became the best of friends and sleep and snuggle together. Sisters they were. Mouli would always protect her and Miffin knew it. If another cat offended Miffin, Mouli would leap over Miffin and chase the offending cat away to the boundaries of my property.
However one game that Mouli and Miffin played that I don’t think Mouli always enjoyed was ‘Tiger and Antelope’. Miffin would stalk Mouli, then chase her around the house until Mouli chased Miffin back. But most of the time Miffin did the chasing and then I would hear a yelp. Mouli comes to me in a sorrowful way with this little cat hanging off the scruff of Mouli’s neck. Mouli was five times the weight of Miffin.
The first time my daughter met Mouli, I played a little joke on her. Hazel was only four going on five. I said “Did you hear the news? A witch came through the village and turned all the cats into dogs and dogs into cats. They’re still trying to figure out how it was done?” Then, a neighbourhood girl who I’d asked to puppy sit Mouli for a bit, came around and presented Mouli to Hazel. Hazel was astonished and flabbergasted. Yes, Mouli looked a lot like Miffin and yes, all the markings seemed to be in the same spots. How could she deny the very evidence in front of her? Well after an hour, or probably not even, Miffin appeared and all was revealed.
Mouli was a sensitive needy animal when she was young. She howled being left in her cage, but I was worried that she was going to mess everywhere so what could I do. Finally after a day or two, she got to me and I asked her “If I let you out of this cage for the night, do you promise not to piddle or poop anywhere but outside?” She looked at me with those soulful brown eyes as though she said yes, and for the first time in our lives, she slept with me in the big bed. Of course she broke her promise a couple of times, and bit through the telephone and vacuum cleaner cables, but she never left my side after that unless I left her in the house or something. She would follow me from room to room and would never wander when I let her out. Did her business and came right back.
She has a huge collection of stuffed toys, which for a dog, keeps in remarkably good condition. She would gather them around and make a big pile and roll all over them with a big grin on her face. Her first stuffed toys look like little frankenstein dolls since I would sew them up regardless if they were missing ears, or tails or whatever.
She always wanted to please. If I were lazing on the couch and Hazel was on the armchair watching TV, Mouli would pass the remote to Hazel if I handed it to her and said “Give it to Hazel”. It got that I would give her something (video cassette, money, books whatever) and say ‘Give it to Hazel’, she would rush to Hazel wherever she was. I might be upstairs and Hazel might be downstairs. Every week Mouli would give Hazel her allowance too. It got to be a joke that Hazel was taking Mouli’s money.
There were two, unusual for a dog, traits that she didn’t do. She didn’t lick faces. Occasional lick on the fingers, but no face. She was a snuffler. She preferred to snuffle her cheek against yours, both sides and the other odd thing was that she never liked anyone holding her paw. She would present it but no holding. But she knew where her tail was. If you asked her where her tail was, she would spin around a couple of times and catch the tip. She was terrible at ball catching though. She liked playing ‘Go get the ball’, however, she would go to the place where she expected it to land and wait for you to throw it.
Later on, because she wasn’t ‘fancy’ like some dogs, we gave her a title: Lady Moulsey of Herring Shire, but she will always be Mouli.
2. with her cat sister (around the same age)
Part Two to come?: Dealing with grief -
I am currently Melancholy
I am listening to My dog breathing
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