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The Sound And The Fury

Rocky and I watch a tape of Jon Stewart on the Daily Show , Stewart  almost beside himself with fury, unable to sit still in the chair, pushing and then pleading, shaking, bullying  and then begging–admit it, admit it!–as if the great financial meltdown was Jim Cramer’s fault and that Cramer, single-handedly, had destroyed the savings of […]

Rocky, Woody Allen and the Meaning of Life

We walked in the rain this morning.  Rain again in Melbourne: How happy I should be. But oh perversity, thy name is Gawenda. Dripping wet, my thoughts, even as Rocky splashed through the small puddles that had formed on the path near the St Kilda Pier, turned to the dark side. This thought came from […]

In Bed With Kevin

The sun was on its way into the sky when we walked this morning and Rocky by then was frantic, wimpering and whining at the front door, in despair, wondering no doubt whether, with the sun well and truly risen, with the dawn come and gone and with me still in bed, our morning rituals, for […]

The Good and Bad of Complex Mornings

Mornings ought not to be complex I loved that opening line in Michael Dransfield’s poem. In the main, I liked his poetry, though the only collection of his I read was Drug Poems which I think I read a fair while before he died. He was a year younger than me and, it seems, a […]

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Jemma and Treacle and Rocky and the Passing of Time

We walked in the rain last week, Rocky’s white beard drooping wet, his coat rain-drop covered in between the strenuous body shakes that send a mist of fine water out around him. The rain came down steadily and by the time we reached the wide stretch of what was once green grass leading to the small […]

Rocky and the Poodle

Dark clouds delay dawn as we set out, Rocky and I, for the beach. We walk not to St Kilda, but to Elwood  and then on to Brighton, where we pass the two storey mansions along the beach front. On the white-washed wall of one of the mansions, there’s a plaintive sign on the wall  begging […]

Rod Usher and Rocky

Rocky wants to make it clear that the post this morning in his voice was written by Rod Usher. Rod discussed all this with him at great length from Spain where he lives with his dog Hilda. Rod is a long time friend of Gawenda’s. Check the post titled Rocky Speaks Truth To Power below. […]

Rocky Speaks Truth to Power

Forget those monster mouthful words, such as anthropomorphism, where did they ever get you? Keep your four feet on the ground and your talk short. That´s our secret to life. My vocabulary — see how you 2legs get sucked in by syllables, why not just say words? – I keep ’em on a tight lead: […]

Rocky, rawhide bones and a different world

An hour before I leave him, Rocky retires to bed. He is inconsolable. The rawhide bone lies beside his bed untouched. He can’t be bought by a bone. His rolls himself up into a coil, his head on the rim of the circular bed and his eyes are sad and downcast. He won’t touch the […]

Early Morning Grieving

We set out for the beach, Rocky and I, earlier than usual this morning. The weather forecast was for a 34 degree day with northerly winds and high fire danger across Victoria. The CFA warnings were more emphatic than they had been on Black Saturday: Get out early if you’re going to go. Get out […]