Because philosophy and real life don't mix...
And now, a post on events.
Recent major events, in chronological order.
i) Death of dog
ii) Electric Picnic
Type your cut contents here.So, canine catastrophe: We used to let Lady run alongside the jeep on the hill, as she rather enjoyed it. She got to make rude dog gestures at neighbouring dogs in comparative safety and she got some exercise into the bargain. Win win, right? Fuck no. On this occasion, the dogs she likes to tease got out and had a go at her. She got bundled under the jeep as my dad couldn't do anything from where he was. She broke her leg fairly nastily and got torn up on the inside of the leg. She was bleeding reasonably heavily, so we got her to the vet's fairly quickly. It was pretty shitty, because, frankly, standing in Tallaght village covered in blood is not something I tend to look for in my mornings. The vet however, set us at ease, said it wasn't as bad as it looked and it should be okay. Even if it was as bad as it could possibly be, she'd live, albeit with three legs. And there the saga ends, right? Wrong.
She was released a few days later, leg heavily bandaged and splinted, wounds stitched and dressed. However, after a few days, the wounds weren't healing, and weren't looking good, so she was brought to another vet, this time in the north, as that's where the parents were at the time. I had to work, so had to stay at home and couldn't be around for most of this. The vet in the north took a quick look and immediately ascertained that the hip was dislocated. In the original accident. Yup, I know what you're thinking, "Wouldn't the vet in Tallaght have seen that in either the preliminary x-ray or the post-operation x-ray?" and y'know what? I still don't have an explanation for that one. However, because the joint had been out for a week by now, it was impossible to solve easily, and required rather hefty surgery. For the record, the surgery involved sawing off the ball of the joint, filling the socket with a synthetic and trying to bond the two to create an artificial hip. Wince or shudder when you read that? I did when I was told.
Of course, because her wounds have gotten messy despite my mother's best efforts, she has to be brought up to condition for the operation, which means leaving her in the vet's. This took a few days, as it's a pretty horrific surgery, and required a stronger dog, and then there were a couple of days afterwards while she tried to recover.
Then she came home, and everything seemed okay for a day or two, until she started passing blood and vomiting blood. Turned out the medication required to get her okay for surgery had been just too strong, and she hadn't gotten on well with the anaesthetic either. The vet suggested a drip to try and get her nutrition, as she couldn't eat or drink, and so she went into the vet again, and this time she never came out.
A couple of days later, she collapsed repeatedly. We were called and told we might want to start considering the final decision. However, the next morning, she died.
I miss that dog, and will miss that dog. When I could count on absolutely nobody else at the lowest ebbs of my life, I could always find her and hug her. She probably did more for my mental health then than anything else. The day she died, I overheard someone talking, and they said "Dogs treat you like the person you wish you were", and there's no verse ever composed that put it as well as that. I'm angry, and upset, and really very sad, but also cold, and removed, and I hate that. I hadn't seen her in three weeks before she died. I feel I should have done so, and I know I won't grieve like I want to, because death doesn't bother me, but I'd like to feel grief to honour a friend who never hurt me, which is more than can be said of most.
Suppose I should move on to better thoughts. Went back to Electric Picnic this weekend, as a paying punter this time around. It was good. Myself and the two people I went with drove down when I got off work on thursday and slept in the car in Stradbally, rather than sit in traffic on friday morning. This turned out to be an excellent plan, as despite a dodgy night's sleep, we got a great spot with minimal hassle.
It was a decent weekend. I saw some great bands, ate too much good food, and I received rather a lot of food for thought. There were bad parts and inconveniences of course, but fuck it, this was my summer holiday weekend, and I wasn't going to have anyone or anything ruin it. Lord knows I've worked hard enough this summer to take a weekend off at last.
My musical highlights were Goldfrapp, Sigur Ros, Grinderman, CSS, Super Extra Bonus Party (stupid name, but great band) and Hayseed Dixie. Missed a few good ones I wanted to see, but meh, I've yet to go to a festival and see everything I wanted to; there are more important things to be getting on with.
Some rifts were healed, some wounds were re-examined, many feelings were had any many thoughts were prompted, but over the whole weekend, one constant was the adorable girls on the Coffee and Cakes stand who supplied me with many free coffees and nice smiles and chats about the good old days and how all paying punters are scum. Nice to see them again. Don't think I will see any of them again next year, from talking to them, which is a shame. They've seen me through two festivals of cold mornings and little sleep. I can't imagine an Electric Picnic where I pay for everything. Oh well, probably go back again next year if I can afford it, see what I can make of it.
Enough useless rambling for now.
Recent major events, in chronological order.
i) Death of dog
ii) Electric Picnic
Type your cut contents here.So, canine catastrophe: We used to let Lady run alongside the jeep on the hill, as she rather enjoyed it. She got to make rude dog gestures at neighbouring dogs in comparative safety and she got some exercise into the bargain. Win win, right? Fuck no. On this occasion, the dogs she likes to tease got out and had a go at her. She got bundled under the jeep as my dad couldn't do anything from where he was. She broke her leg fairly nastily and got torn up on the inside of the leg. She was bleeding reasonably heavily, so we got her to the vet's fairly quickly. It was pretty shitty, because, frankly, standing in Tallaght village covered in blood is not something I tend to look for in my mornings. The vet however, set us at ease, said it wasn't as bad as it looked and it should be okay. Even if it was as bad as it could possibly be, she'd live, albeit with three legs. And there the saga ends, right? Wrong.
She was released a few days later, leg heavily bandaged and splinted, wounds stitched and dressed. However, after a few days, the wounds weren't healing, and weren't looking good, so she was brought to another vet, this time in the north, as that's where the parents were at the time. I had to work, so had to stay at home and couldn't be around for most of this. The vet in the north took a quick look and immediately ascertained that the hip was dislocated. In the original accident. Yup, I know what you're thinking, "Wouldn't the vet in Tallaght have seen that in either the preliminary x-ray or the post-operation x-ray?" and y'know what? I still don't have an explanation for that one. However, because the joint had been out for a week by now, it was impossible to solve easily, and required rather hefty surgery. For the record, the surgery involved sawing off the ball of the joint, filling the socket with a synthetic and trying to bond the two to create an artificial hip. Wince or shudder when you read that? I did when I was told.
Of course, because her wounds have gotten messy despite my mother's best efforts, she has to be brought up to condition for the operation, which means leaving her in the vet's. This took a few days, as it's a pretty horrific surgery, and required a stronger dog, and then there were a couple of days afterwards while she tried to recover.
Then she came home, and everything seemed okay for a day or two, until she started passing blood and vomiting blood. Turned out the medication required to get her okay for surgery had been just too strong, and she hadn't gotten on well with the anaesthetic either. The vet suggested a drip to try and get her nutrition, as she couldn't eat or drink, and so she went into the vet again, and this time she never came out.
A couple of days later, she collapsed repeatedly. We were called and told we might want to start considering the final decision. However, the next morning, she died.
I miss that dog, and will miss that dog. When I could count on absolutely nobody else at the lowest ebbs of my life, I could always find her and hug her. She probably did more for my mental health then than anything else. The day she died, I overheard someone talking, and they said "Dogs treat you like the person you wish you were", and there's no verse ever composed that put it as well as that. I'm angry, and upset, and really very sad, but also cold, and removed, and I hate that. I hadn't seen her in three weeks before she died. I feel I should have done so, and I know I won't grieve like I want to, because death doesn't bother me, but I'd like to feel grief to honour a friend who never hurt me, which is more than can be said of most.
Suppose I should move on to better thoughts. Went back to Electric Picnic this weekend, as a paying punter this time around. It was good. Myself and the two people I went with drove down when I got off work on thursday and slept in the car in Stradbally, rather than sit in traffic on friday morning. This turned out to be an excellent plan, as despite a dodgy night's sleep, we got a great spot with minimal hassle.
It was a decent weekend. I saw some great bands, ate too much good food, and I received rather a lot of food for thought. There were bad parts and inconveniences of course, but fuck it, this was my summer holiday weekend, and I wasn't going to have anyone or anything ruin it. Lord knows I've worked hard enough this summer to take a weekend off at last.
My musical highlights were Goldfrapp, Sigur Ros, Grinderman, CSS, Super Extra Bonus Party (stupid name, but great band) and Hayseed Dixie. Missed a few good ones I wanted to see, but meh, I've yet to go to a festival and see everything I wanted to; there are more important things to be getting on with.
Some rifts were healed, some wounds were re-examined, many feelings were had any many thoughts were prompted, but over the whole weekend, one constant was the adorable girls on the Coffee and Cakes stand who supplied me with many free coffees and nice smiles and chats about the good old days and how all paying punters are scum. Nice to see them again. Don't think I will see any of them again next year, from talking to them, which is a shame. They've seen me through two festivals of cold mornings and little sleep. I can't imagine an Electric Picnic where I pay for everything. Oh well, probably go back again next year if I can afford it, see what I can make of it.
Enough useless rambling for now.