We're getting there.

[Update: a merle Great Dane sits on frost burnt grass. She is wear a green t-shirt and has only one front leg. Behind her is a red garden chair and garden pots and plants. She looks alert but over it. Out of everything my old green t-shirt has been the best thing to cover her wounds and stop bandages from moving.]

This post is the follow up to my last (Filaments) which was the lead up to her surgery.


"Freyja's temperature is always low, so this represents a fever for her."

What is it about vets that they instinctively trust the animal and the readings before them? Try to explain something similar to a medical practitioner and you can see the internal eye roll before they hustle you out the door ignored and untreated. So many Dysautonomia patients often have internal thermostats set outside normal parameters. After years stuck at 38C my body now frequently inhabits the region of 35.2- 35.5C. A couple of my regular doctors believe me, but even as I described back when I was getting regular saline IV's, a nurse despite multiple forms of assessment refused to believe her instruments, or me. Mind you even when I told my pacemaker surgeon that I don't process sedation or local anaesthetics properly, it wasn't until I continually woke up mid procedure and in pain, that I was believed. And yet for Fryeja's vet it's not a stress. She simply believes and believes in, her patients.

It does give me confidence. Not all vets do well with giant breeds. I've seen towering men baulk at touching both Freyja and when he was still with us, Thor. Giant breeds always attract comments about their size ("You should put a saddle on that!"), and it can be off-putting, belying a gentle nature and a breed that still considers itself a lap dog. But practicalities of treating a large animal aside the vet is at ease and just gets on with the job. She walks in comforting and confident and Freyja just goes with the flow. And in turn I feel confident and comforted. I am grateful for that. We go back in today. Maybe I can convince her to give me a litre of fluids and a cortisone shot in my bursitis inflamed hip, when she's done with Freyja's stitches. There definitely seems to be a lot more practicality and in many ways compassion, in veterinary medicine that has been lost in human medicine where all too often the patient is seen as less than, an inconvenience, or even at times the enemy.



It's been two weeks since her surgery, nearly three from the time we walked in ignorant and free from the worry and stress that has permeated so much of days since. And I am tired.

So so tired. But we're getting there.

It's been a rough few weeks and chronically ill bodies don't tend to react well to stress. Life hasn't stopped so we could focus on the one stressful issue. Instead it kept throwing things our way including the sudden loss of my uncle. He was a tough guy. Three bouts of cancer, a heart attack, broken bones and a 70s rock and roll lifestyle that he never really shook. He was a guy who always lived life by his own rules and never mellowed with age. And sitting in front of his casket and listening to his singing and bass playing, quintessential Oz Rock, it felt and continues to feel unreal. And I am still processing. But we're getting there.

We're getting there
We're getting there
We're getting there

I keep reminding myself.
Slow and steady wins the race, right?



Standing in the vet's consulting room going through the procedure for the surgery I was simultaneously trying not to throw up from worry and fighting back tears at the prospect of what lay ahead for her. She didn't know. We were leaving her with strangers to have a life changing operation. We couldn't explain to her. Sucking up the responsibilities of pet ownership is tough when it comes to decisions like these. Realising how much you love the trusting, furry, stink ball in front of you at the same time as you have to watch her go out through the door after signing the paperwork, is even tougher.

Perceptions of time vary depending on the circumstances in which we are living and the stress of waiting for the phone call felt like an eternity. When the vet finally called it was late. It went longer than expected. She did really well. The scans were clear and the procedure straight forward except for the complications of her size.Would we mind if she went home and had dinner before we came in to see her? Of course. Well not really. Emotional brain wanted to scream no and run straight to the clinic and break down the door. While logical brain knew it was already 7pm, that the vet was also on call and working hideously long hours over an incredibly long working week. We could wait, Freyja could wait, and perhaps more importantly, the vet could go home, see her family and have a breather before the emergency after hours consults started to roll in.

Thankfully calm and rational Mr Grumpy was in charge of phone calls on the day.

8:30 pm Freyja was tucked up under a blanket surrounded by hot water bottles and blissfully unaware thanks to the slow steady drip of morphine into her veins. The relief of seeing her was overwhelming. To touch her paw and stroke her muzzle. To have that tangible connection. Then and only then did the vets words seem to take on form. It went well. She was okay. She was in good hands. I went home exhausted but slightly less anxious. Slightly.

Great Danes aren't supposed to be in tiny country vet clinics. Her 58kgs and long limbs meant only just fitting on the fully extended operating table and a room all to herself for recovery. Similarly the next day she was perched on blankets in the middle of the main surgery room. Allowing her company and after a quick look around at the other inhabitants, clear acknowledgement that her bulk would not fit into even the largest of their cages. A small excited whine, thumping tail and waves of relief. Who knew you could be so excited to hear your dog had peed? Who knew as I write nearly two weeks since the surgery, seeing her pee and poo would continue to excite me. This is much of what the last to weeks have involved.



Bringing her home has been both nerve wracking and a relief. I have slept on the couch next to her and also jumped out of bed when I've heard her cry out or stumbling around in the lounge. I watch her and clean up after her. We've wrapped meter upon meter of bandages around her torso. And my bum and legs have gone numb from sitting on the floor next to her bed. I am continuously covered in her hair and slobber. And changing her blankets sometimes multiple times a day due to incontinence. I am tired. She is tired.

But we're getting there.

I find myself speaking in high pitched excited tones. And soft low comforting notes.

Every unsteady pee and poo is celebrated. Ever hop/step applauded.
Every moment of discomfort soothed. Ever stress comforted.

She lays before me in the loungeroom in one of my green t-shirts trying to keep a dressing on her infected drain. We continue to ply her with antibiotics and cuddles and take calls from our vet checking on her progress. She is quieter than normal. In our multiple trips to the vet since the surgery her nervous energy, especially in the presence of other dogs, is gone. I don't know if she's more settled or more over it. Only time will tell. Today we go in again to check the infection and hopefully remove the stitches from the two large wounds that occupy the space left from her now amputated shoulder and leg.

"All I want is to do is go inside and rest and this annoying woman keeps trying to make me walk." * * Freyja is still not feeling great and pretty meh about the world but we have to keep her up and moving if only in short bursts with much rest in between. It's all a bit slowly slowly but we're getting there. Hopefully the antibiotics are kicking the infection in the wound and she'll pick up again soon. We're both tired but hopeful. She's been my companion for 8 1/2 of the last 11 years I've been ill so I just want my energetic, slobbery pup back. * * [Image: a short video of Freyja a merle great dane wearing a green t-shirt walking a little in the back yard on our Winter frost burnt grass. More a hop walk as she continues to learn how to get around on three legs. At the end she flops tired to ground to look longingly at the back door where her warm bed resides.] * * #greatdane #merle #ilovemygreatdane #tshirt #amputeedog #recovery #tired #exhausted

A post shared by Michelle Roger (@michelle_roger) on Aug 8, 2017 at 12:23am PDT

 We're all tired.

But

We're getting there.

Michelle

Thank you to everyone who has sent me and Freyja lovely messages. I keep thinking I'll catch up with them but I realise now it's unlikely. I have read them all but the fatigue and stress has meant all my spare energy has been focused on taking care of her. If you want to keep up to date with how she goes I'll be updating over on Instagram.

Filaments

[Image: A large merle Great Dane, sits on the lap, or perhaps squishes the legs of a woman with dark hair. The woman in a cream cardigan and sitting on a blue and white patterned throw, is cuddling the displeased Great Dane. They are at a beach with big scary waves. They are sitting on sand near a peace of drift wood and a small creek winds it's way out to see in the top right corner.  This is one of my favourite photos of Freyja. She's always been a lap dog and very protective. Though in this case I'm not sure if she was protecting me from others on the beach or seeking protection from the big evil waves.]



I want guarantees. No, scratch that. I need guarantees. I need to know Option A will lead to Outcome B. One hundred percent. No deviations. No messy odds that allow for Outcome C, D and Z to come into play. I am a tantruming two-year-old demanding my due. I want it and I want it now. Rational thought sweeps in and out to be replaced by panic and screams that it's not fair. And it's not. Even when rational me says it's part of life, emotional me is still in the foetal position. The decision's too big. It's all too quick. But still it must be made.

She doesn't care. She sleeps on her brown and tan couch as warm Winter sun streams in through the angled blinds. Blinds that hold a layer of slobber. A layer of oil from nose presses and fur. Light comes through the window whose pane is patterned with overlapping nose prints. The top line of which mark her height as clearly as any notch or biro line on a door frame. No matter how often I clean, her presence is announced from front door to back, in oils, slobber and fur.

Half wrapped in her blanket, legs tucked under pillows she twists awkwardly to look as I emerge from my bedroom. A morning tail wag thumping heavily on the cushion gives rhythm to her excitement. The tangle of limbs uncurl. She flops to the end of the couch in her usual half-stretch half-stand that seems more attributable to an initial emerging from three months hibernation instead of 12 hours over night.

A warm head moves expertly into position. My hand encloses the top and side of her warm head. Eight years of mornings have made the movement automatic. The coffee machine splutters into life and the crack of the container that holds her breakfast leads to the first signs of excitement. Food, her family coming home after an eternity (otherwise known as any period spent outside the front door) and the occasional pounce at the chicken run to watch them squawk and flutter, her main sources of excitement. A rattle of her lead or her desire to let people, other dogs, birds, the crow that likes to sit on the front gutter, or the occasional unidentifiable sound, know that they have entered her domain, the others.

She stops at the door quivering. Bowing, before a stretch elongates her body and she yawn-yelps to calm herself. She waits for me to head through, before a burst of excitement zooms around my right hip and heads to her silver bowl. She's looking great the vet said. Could even lose a kilo or two. Yet the lump of meat is inhaled as if we have starved her for weeks. Suck down the food, quick ablutions and a check that the boundaries are secure, before waiting on the door step to return inside. That's where her family is. Or, more importantly, that's where her couch resides.

Cocooned in the corner of the loungeroom. Soft circular couch. Warm Winter sun. A throne to gaze at both family and the world. Content and unaware.

I want to know we are making the right decision. We had three. One, do nothing, was discarded immediately. The other two are filled with uncertainty that leaves me sleepless and nauseous. The stress of such big, irreversible decisions do not meld well with a chronically ill body. It's all been too quick. Monday just a double check with the vet. Tuesday the bad news. The big bad. The one that left me crying on the phone to the vet, and Mr Grumpy, on the couch, in my bedroom. Wednesday rapid decisions. Friday, tomorrow, surgery.

On Monday when the vet, with her keen eye and calm voice mentioned possibilities, I never entertained it'd be the worst one. It was supposed to be nothing. Benign I was prepared for.  This. This had been locked away in a place where I'd never find it. This was the sucker punch delivered with a calm, sympathetic voice on the other end of the phone. Bad news evident from the first syllable. From the too early phone call. Monday's "it often comes back unclear" replaced by the removal of any doubt and the clarity of the expert eye. "Aggressive," "high grade," "no clear margins," the hole in my stomach growing deeper and wider with each word.

I knew I loved her. I knew but I didn't know how deep it ran. I didn't know how deeply she'd wound her way into my being. I sit watching her sleep and try to catch a glimpse of  the invisible filaments that bind my heart to the smelly, snoring body opposite. They remain elusive to my eye but are crystal clear in the pain that potential loss creates. So big decisions are made.

She's in great health for her age. Well apart from the tumour protruding from her leg. Her heart is strong. She looks great. Apart for the collection of feral cells reproducing at an alarming rate and already threading their way through muscle and tendon. She's in great health, apart from the tumour, though we won't know if it's spread until they scan her abdomen and chest while she's under. She's in great health, if you ignore the tumour that you can't ignore.

It'll give her the best chance. Best chance. Such a pathetic pairing of words. I don't want chance, not even the best one. I want certainty. I want a promise. I want it written in stone. I want to know that when it's all done she'll be back sneaking her head into my hand. That I'll feel the weight of her body pressed against me as I try to hang the washing. That she'll worm her way back into my lap when I sit outside. That she'll still annoy the chickens and and bark at the delivery woman before poking her head between my leg and door frame for a pat and a scratch. That she'll continue to ruin my good clothes with fur and slobber. That she will announce her displeasure at my being out or not getting up early enough, by disembowelling a tissue, or placing items from my handbag outside my bedroom door.

I want to know she'll be okay. I want her to tell me that it's the right decision.

I'm not ready to let those filaments go.

Tomorrow she goes in for surgery and they'll take her right front leg. The leg she holds up to shake hands. The leg she whacks me with when she wants my attention. The leg she touches me with just to make sure I'm still there. Her best chance they tell me. Best maybe. But shit chance, shit option, shitty best chance of all the options. I look at the still growing lump protruding above her ankle, the one that is growing rapidly and now so tender she's not happy even for me to touch. I look at it and know it must be done, even with potential complications, even with the shitty nature that is her best chance. Even if we don't have time to breath between news and decision.

But for today, there'll be cuddles and belly rubs. She'll be my other walking stick as I move around the backyard. She'll give me side-eye when I cuddle one of the chooks, and bark at the workmen across the road. She'll be excited when Mr Grumpy gets home and when the youngest returns after his long trip to the mail box at the end of the driveway. Today I'll pretend and she'll remain oblivious.

Tomorrow we'll trust to the experts. Keep positive thoughts even if at present they are tinged with fear and worry. I'll start breathing again after.

I love my snotty, furry, leaning shadow.
I love the feel of her warm head in my hand
Her weight on my hip
Her continuing belief that she is a lap dog

Even the snot and fur that have been deposited on and in the laptop on which I type.

It's going to be okay.

It's going to be okay.

It's going to be okay.

It's going to be okay.

Michelle

RejuvaHealth, Sheer Floral and Opaque Diamond compression stocking review.

Freyja, the photo-bombing dog.

Stockings: RejuvaHealth, Sheer Floral 20-30mmHg Thigh High
Boots: Rivers

Skirt: Rivers
T-Shirt: Threadless

Black undershirt: Metalicus

I should add this is not a sponsored post (mind you I wouldn't knock one of those back. It would be nice to be able to pay for my own coffee just once). Nor is it an exhaustive list of brands and options. Instead, it is based on my personal experience, and for those considering compression stockings either for the first time, or those tired of the regular range of stockings and looking for a bit of spice in their compression wear. Your treating doctor should be able to advise you as to whether compression stockings may be helpful for the management of your form of Dysautonomia and the strength and type of stockings you may require.

Regular readers will know of my passion for finding fashionable compressions stockings. Frankly if I have to be sick I'll be damned if I can't be fashionable. I spend way too much time online looking at compression stockings. I search for anything that is remotely patterned or coloured outside of the traditional white, beige, black or navy blue. In the mid to high range compression (20mmHg +), it can be hard to find many options. Add in that cost of more fashionable versions can be prohibitive to many, and it can be hard to find practical and fashionable options.

I love my Juzo Soft compression stockings and have been wearing them for a number of years now. I have a range of colours and a fabulous tie-dyed pair which I wear on a daily basis (I may need a Juzo Soft intervention). But at the higher end of the price range I know they are out of reach for many (I often look longingly at the current Maize and Midnight versions, before sighing and closing the tab once more). So I have been looking at some of the mid- price range versions of  compression stockings, with two criteria in mind:
A) they must be 20mmHg+.
B) they must be fashionable.

I chose thigh high simply because that is what I wear.

RejuvaHealth: Opaque Diamond & Sheer Floral 20-30mmHg Thigh High.

I have loved the fashion options from US company RejuvaHealth for quite some time. They first caught my eye with funky pink paisley and blue animal print stockings (sadly no longer available) in 20-30mmHg compression. Unfortunately the postage at the time was prohibitive (damn living in Australia) and I simply couldn't justify the purchase.

I have kept my eye on their options over the years to see whether they kept up with the more fashionable options and luckily they have, although the pink paisley is disappointedly yet to make a comeback (I may have to start some sort of paisley inspired campaign).

I have been looking at their Opaque Diamond, Sheer Floral, and Sheer Dot (a similar version of the latter is also available from Svigardis, Allure in a couple of different colours, $92US) options for a while. These options are available up to 20-30mmHg compression. After stumbling across a stockist with reasonable postage (Brightlife Direct: $20 for 3 pairs (I'll review the 3rd, Allegro brand in another post) in less than 10 days) I decided that I would purchase a pair of the Opaque Diamond and Sheer Floral.

Sheer Floral 

These are a very pretty pair of stockings. Much lighter and delicate than what I am used to with either Juzo Soft or Jobst. The pattern wasn't quite as defined as I would have liked given that outside the floral pattern it is quite sheer. Stitching is continuous between flowers so there are definite heavier black lines in between each piece of pattern. Though at a distance this is less apparent.

You can see the lines on this close up. 

No bulky toe seam is also nice. Not all brands get that right.
*They aren't this dark in real life. 
I was halfway through taking them off when I remembered to take a toe shot.

They are shorter in the leg than what I am used to, so I was conscious about my skirt length and they did feel a little precarious. They did however stay up after a full day of use, walking around, doing laundry and cooking dinner. Admittedly, I have rather long legs for my height, and thin legs thanks to muscle wasting, so it does make it harder to find a pair of stockings that fits well. If you have regular or shorter length legs they would be fine.

The pattern comes up quite nice in the Winter sun.

They were comfortable, though I was very aware that I was wearing compression stockings. (That is perhaps one of the best features of the Juzo Soft, which I forget I am even wearing after about 10-20mins.)

They were hardier than I expected given their delicate nature. With a very touchy feely Great Dane and my general cack-handedness I had expected that I'd have runs or pulls in them by the end of the day, but I was pleasantly surprised by how sturdy they were.

They also washed up well with no loss of compression

Really you wouldn't know they are compression stockings.

Opaque Diamond

Photobombed again

These are a much heavier and firmer stocking, similar to the Juzo Soft in texture. The pattern was well defined though not as clear as the picture on the RejuvaHealth website. Even in full sun, unless I caught the sun just right, the pattern was more a hint than distinct lines. Though I will say they did cover my Winter hairy legs very well. 

This time the shorter leg was more apparent, although that may be a partially a feature of the firmer knit of the stocking. They felt far more precarious than the Sheer Floral and the stocking on my right, more wasted, leg did slowly fall down as the day went on. This isn't a problem I've had with other brands. It's disappointing as I was looking forward to wearing them.

Down to just over my knee by the end of the day.
Took them off and put them on 3 different times and still it fell down.
May have to buy a garter if I want to wear them. 

Hmm pasty-thigh shot probably not the best.

With less give in the knit, even after a full day's wear, they were not as comfortable as the Sheer Floral.

As with the Sheer Floral they were quite hardy and neither Great Dane, nor falling into the garden (an unexpected aspect of the review, brought to you by my inability to coordinate my cane, my feet and breathing) ended in runs or pulls.

Again they washed up well, with no loss of compression.

Boots: Rivers

Skirt: Lazybones

Shirt: Lazybones

Cardigan: Just Jeans

Verdict

The Sheer Floral are a very nice option to have when you have to wear compression stockings. And as a special occasion stocking a great option. Not so much for day-to-day wear. They definitely don't look like medical grade compression stockings.

My main issue would be that as a long, thin-legged woman neither pair felt long enough, and the firmer Opaque Diamond, were definitely not long enough for me. Having rechecked the sizing guidelines going up a size would not have solved this problem and would have ended with less compression and only slightly greater length. And a wider thigh measurement would mean they would both be round my ankles by the end of the day.

You will feel that you are wearing compression stockings.

They only go up to a moderate compression of 20-30mmHg. Though in fairness this is not uncommon. Only a few brands offer higher strength compression with any sense of fashion. And over 40mmHg I have been unable to find any brands that offer options outside stock standard colours.

Overall, for their price point $59US, they are a very reasonable mid-range option, especially if you have regular or shorter legs. And I would recommend the Sheer Floral option as a really pretty moderate compression stocking.

Update: I have now had multiple messages from fellow patients who also found these too short, in both the thigh high and full pantyhose version. So it would seem they really are only for the average height or shorter fashionista. Pity as they are quite pretty and we longer-limbed lasses deserve the same fashion options too!

Further reading:

My tips for buying compression stockings can be found here.


Now to rest up and then start my hunt for a decent garter belt.

Michelle

Next week I'll review a pair from the Allegro brand.

A little ditty from the Pulp Fiction soundtrack in honour of my flowery compression stockings.


Remember to head on over here to donate to my Clicking My Heels For Dysautonomia, raising money for the Greg Page Fund for Orthostatic Intolerance and Dysautonomia research, at The Baker IDI. Thanks to the generosity of many we've already raised over $2,000, keep donating and hopefully we can reach $10,000.

Looking up in suburbia

Easter didn't quite go to plan. Saturday I pushed. As a result, Easter Sunday was spent trying to differentiate between passing out and sleeping. I slept though most of our family phone call to our eldest who was having his first Easter away from home. I was at least there on the couch slurring some words in the general direction of the phone. And today I woke up with tired on top of my tired. And my stomach in rebellion. Oh and did I mention a bladder that has shrunk to the size of an M&M? Drink. Pee. Drink. Pee. Drink.... Dysautonomia, the gift that keeps on giving.

The weather has been grey and my mood matched. But today there was sun. So I dragged my protesting body outside to take in it's warmth and cleanse my spirit.

The garden has always been my bliss. But since the move that has taken a dive. The move from temperate rainforest to sterile suburbia has been a hard change to wrap my head around.

This was my world before our move.

Now it is this.

And serenity is hard to find.

But today I was determined to find a small piece of bliss.

I decided to look up....

....and found my back neighbour's flowering gums.

 And blue sky.

And the gums reached out. Filled with squawking honey-eaters and bright red blooms.

 I put up my red umbrella. And laid out my blankets and pillows.

And I watched the clouds.

I had company in the sun.

And snuggles when it became too warm.

There were Great Dane footrests when my head started to spin.

And company whilst I searched for new books to read.

Now as the sun goes down I am just as exhausted, but happy. Sometimes you are stuck in soulless suburbia and sometimes....

....it is where you set your gaze that matters. 

Michelle

Don't forget to head on over here and donate to Dysautonomia Research here in Australia, at The Baker IDI. Lots of exciting research occurring currently and more projects on the way.

You could also head on over to the Australia Writers' Centre and vote for the blog in the Best Australia Blogs Competition.

 

Wegohealth Health Activist Awards 2012 Best in Show: Blog Finalist!

Next week, the 28th of March (7am of the 29th here in OZ, Argh!), is the awards ceremony for the Wegohealth Health Activist Awards 2012. Amazingly, I am one of the finalists for the Best in Show Blog award. The lovely folk at Wegohealth sent out a pack of goodies to all the finalists and thanks to the lovely Susan, mine made it all the way Down Under in plenty of time. 

Of course I tried to take photos of my goodies and had some help.

Ooooo Presents!!!!

 Putting my foot down and telling Thor and Freyja to sit. 

 Crotch sniff from Thor, removes last vestiges of dignity.

 Token upside down Down Under shot.

 Dog butt shot.

 More dog butt and vane attempts to keep goodies out of his reach.

 Just too exciting.

 No hope of a dog free photo.

 Photo bombing (sigh).

 Excited ghost Freyja is so excited for me that she can't stand still long enough for a decent photo.

I give up. At least I tried.

Don't forget to check out all the fabulous finalists on the list in both the Blog category and all the other categories. Good luck to all my fellow finalists!

UPDATE: Okay I didn't win but that's okay. Huge congratulations to the lovely PCOS Diva who won the Best in Show: Blog award. You can find her here and here. 

Thanks you everyone for all the support and encouragement. This blog wouldn't be the same without the community that has sprung up around it, and for that I say, "Thank You". xx

Cheers
Michelle :)

I know, 3 posts in one week, I've clearly lost my mind. Less dogs and more words can be found in Tabula Rasa and Only as much as I dream can I be.

And because you can't go past a show tune to be happy I give you Judy Garland.

Rescue Pet Therapy. The rescuing goes both ways: Day 24 #NHBPM

This is Thor.

My beautiful, big, slightly out there, Great Dane.

This is Thor the first day we saw him at his rescue mum's house.

He was dramatically underweight had scars all over his little belly, his tail didn't work, his back legs had no feeling and he was completely withdrawn. He was the saddest dog I have ever seen. The black cocker-spaniel pups behind him were the same age and full of puppy enthusiasm, whilst he just sat there or wandered aimlessly. I'd never seen a pup that didn't know how to play before. It broke my heart and needless to say, there was no way we were going home without him. Just looking at this photo and remembering how sad he was back then still makes me tear up.

We are his fourth home, which is sad to consider given he wasn't even 5mths old when he came to us. I have spoken about how he and his sister Freyja, came to our home before so I wont rehash it all. But I do want to share how a dog that no one wanted and was so cruelly treated, has come to mean so much to us.

I often say that although we rescued him, he rescued me in turn. When he came into our life my world had been turned upside down by illness. I was getting sicker everyday, had given up work and was feeling very hopeless and helpless and then this broken pup came to us and everything changed for the better.

I found Thor's description on Pet Rescue and just knew he was the one. There was no photo just his story, but that was enough. I phoned his rescue mum and we chatted for about 30mins and arranged to come and meet him. After meeting him and deciding he was meant to come home with us, his rescue mum and her partner drove the hour and half from Mornington to our house to make sure he was going to a good home. Thankfully, they were happy with us and our yard and what we could offer him and Thor became the newest member of our family.

I wont say it's always easy or not frustrating. He continues to have problems from his early life. When I took him to our vet for his first check up, he said it was highly likely he had brain damage. He's not always with us, and does some strange lip smacking and air licking periodically. He also licks himself compulsively. Now he has progressive spinal problems (coincidentally at the point where his original injuries were) which mean his back legs no longer work well and he falls a lot. But the love he brings makes up for the drama.

He is a beautiful dog who only wants to be close. He has been (with Freyja) to my old physio class for pet therapy. And was gentle and loving. It's strange how he seemed to know we were all a bit fragile.

He's a little left of centre. This photo is from when he was still a pup. He continued trying to do this as an adult. His sister also followed suit. We no longer have a BBQ.

He can sleep anywhere. We like to think it means he finally feels secure.

He still thinks he is a lap dog. (Poor Grandma)

He puts up with his sister Freyja sitting on him.

And when I dress him up.

He and his sister know when I'm ill.
They sit by my bed and watch me.
If I pass out I am woken with barks and a slobber covered face.
They sit outside the shower to make sure I am okay.
And are my shadow on the bad days.
They will be my cane and walk slowly by my side as I balance on them.
And spend many hours on the floor beside my bed.

All this from the dog no one else wanted.

Rescuing a pet is one of the most rewarding things you can do. You just need patience and open heart. In return, you are rewarded with unconditional love and support. Don't be afraid to get a big dog (and Thor is big, he's nearly 100 kgs of dog now) or an older dog. Or even a dog who's start to life wasn't that great. They want to love and be loved. They want a family and forever home. They will bring you joy and laughter. They are a form of therapy for the soul.

I can't fully express the happiness Thor has brought us. If you follow me on Facebook you'll know he and his sister Freyja, are central parts of my life. And there is nothing more comforting than smelly, slobbery dog love when you're feeling down. If you are home alone (like me) they are the best companions. They keep me busy, drive me insane, and make me forget about being ill. Research has also shown that pet ownership has many positive health benefits. Woo Hoo!

You don't have to go big (although I have a soft spot for the giant breeds) there are dogs of every size, age and temperament waiting for their forever homes. Or there are cats to snuggle with. Or rabbits, or rats, or pretty much any animal you can imagine.

Rescue organisations can also match the dog, or cat, to your lifestyle, other pets etc. They check them for temperament and give them a vet check. You can often find out far more about a potential rescue pet and whether they are the right match for you, because they have been so thoroughly checked out.

If you're thinking of getting a furry companion, check out your local pet rescue centres.

Or you could consider fostering pets waiting for their forever homes.

Or support rescue organisations by volunteering or donating.

Check out: 
Pet Rescue : has listings for a wide range of different rescue groups.
RSPCA: has listings all over the country.
Or if you are after a particular breed, most associations also do rescues for their breeds. Simply contact your local organisation.

NB: This weekend the RSPCA (Australia) is waving their adoption fee on adult cats until the 25th of Novemeber 2012.

Cheers
Michelle :)

And the Winners Are........

Ah giveaways, they do give me much pleasure. And paper cuts.

Sadly, I could not find my bag of feathers to make the entries. And really you just can't have a giveaway without feathers. Or dogs.

So of course I made Thor wear my pink feather boa whilst he selected the winners. And he was stoked.

He did enjoy rubbing his face on the entries in a weirdly overly enthusiastic way that left us all a little uncomfortable.

But eventually started picking winners despite his feathery embarressment.

 Though he was unaware he was also wearing the entries for a while there. He's not overly sharp.

 So I stupidly decided to get Freyja involved. Unfortunately, she is the energiser bunny of dogs.

 And lost the plot thanks to the excitement of falling entries.

 And decided that manic was order of the day.

Leaving me covered in these. 

 But she did manage to choose some winners.

And without further ado. And because I now need a nanna nap to recover. The Winners.

The winner of Prize 1: The MOR Cosmetics gift pack is....

Kelley@magnetoboltoo, congrats Kelley!!!!

The winner of Prize 2: Ode to Dysautonomia which had the gorgeous accessories and oils is...

 Hope Filled Living. Congrats!!!!!

The winner of Prize 3: the lovely photographic prints by Kyli Wolfson is....

 Cyndi Ogden. Congratulations Cyndi!!!!!

The winners of Prize 4: One of 5, 2 packs of Lindt Excellence A Touch of Seat Salt, are...

Kathleen Eakins!!!!

 Kim@Frogpondsrock!!!!

 RudeKitiKatt!!!!

 Katrina Horsfall!!!

 Coppelia!!!!

YAY. Congratulations to all the winners. Send your address to rustyhoe@livingwithbob.com and I'll post out your winnings as soon as possible so you can pamper up!

Thanks to everyone who entered. Thanks also to the generous sponsors of the giveaway who made this all possible. MOR Cosmetics, Lindt Australia, Claire Barnier, Tennille Pooley, Vickie Isaacs, and Kyli Wolfson.

Don't forget to check out all the fabulous pampering ideas over here.

And mostly I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has supported me and my ramblings over the past three years despite consistently poor grammatical skills, an inability to use 'to' 'too' and 'two' appropriately, and frequent use of inappropriate humour. It's a rough road at times but your support has meant the world.

Cheers
Michelle :)
And just because it's so appropriate in so many ways. Hot Chocolate's, Everyone's a Winner (1978)