Cripple, baby!: Country

Friday, 2 September 2016

How my rescue dogs rescued me

Those who know me will know that I am the proud mama to three fur-babies -My dogs Emily and Louis, and my old cat Tubby (aka Tubbz/ Sir Tubbsalot).

Tubby doing a big, sleepy stretch.

I inherited Tubbz many moons ago through a housemate -A cranky, greedy little princess (the cat, not the housemate lol, I'm still close friends with her!) whose only desire is to wake me up at 5am screaming for food, and the odd cuddle under the duvet but only to steal my heat. A creature once referred to as "special needs" by a vet (he really is pretty dumb for a cat) he has only became worse with age (I think now he's slightly senile?) and resides in my bedroom, unable to leave the house as he can't coordinate with the world outside -and in general unwilling to even leave the bedroom, as that's where all his favourite things are (our bed/ what he probably considers his bed, his cat bed on the large windowsill which overlooks the front garden aka his TV viewing on the world, his cat climber and of course, his beloved food bowls). Seven years after meeting his step dad Bicky, we can tell he still sees him as a visitor. The "second human" who feeds him, the "tall one who moves around a lot in bed and generally annoys him". I love him anyway, however. For all his poos that miss the tray, for all the crying in the night and morning (literally, like a screaming baby), for all his eating his food too quickly and vomiting immediately (usually on my freshly changed bed sheets), I do love him.

Looking cute and innocent -I swear, he's actually a massive prick.

We've always wanted dogs -especially "the tall one" who I honestly believe is part dog. When we were moving to the countryside one of our main objectives was to find a house that at least had a small, enclosed garden. A safe place for a small dog (we were realistic -we knew that we would only have the energy and time for a smaller breed) to use the bathroom, so to speak. Obviously sleeping indoors would be something very important to us for the dog's comfort and well being. However, we felt it only fair that Tubby, now an elderly cat, have his comfort of the bedroom -he was around first and now that he's a full-time house cat, it would only be right.

So it's 2012, we eventually find a place to rent in the countryside but also not too far from the town. A place that has a garden and allows pets. We're only in the house a couple of days and still unpacking, and so our minds are far from adopting a dog just yet. I find myself however, casually scrolling through Facebook, looking at the wee cuties on our local rescue's Facebook page, Dundalk Dog Rescue. Something I would often do, who doesn't like looking at pictures of dogs? And of course I would share pics too, help the pooches get some attention and maybe attract a new owner. When out of no where I come across a picture of a small, scruffy, square-headed yorkie. The description says they have called him Percy. I show him to Bicky and we coo and aww over the image. When I click next up pops a photo of a honey blonde, wiry terrier, a big silly tongue hanging out of her happy head. The description tells us that they have named her Saffy and that her and Percy are little friends.

The first ever photos of Emily and Louis from Dundalk Dog Rescue's Facebook page
-Formerly Saffy and Percy.

I feckin' love trees

Myself and Bicky spent a lovely Sunday off yesterday in one of our favourite places, Dún na Rí forest park... Such beauty (and practically right on our doorstep) reminds me why I give a fuck about the state of the planet.... And I really, really just love trees.

It was also a special treat for the dogs as we celebrated a 'birthday' of sorts -Around this time of year marks two amazing years since we were graced with their presence in our lives :) After, they enjoyed a wee play at Bicky's folks/ fur-babies paternal grandparents!