Writing writing writing…… watching telly. Trying to figure out what to write because I have a need to do something creative. But I’m stuck or something. The dogs are by my side in their usual place. Nova, like a Queen reclining on the old mattress on the floor. Kobash at her paws, nose wedged under Nova’s neck and having a nibble. Trying to entice her to play. Choking from Nova now because he nibbled a little too hard. In a minute she will lose patience with him, and snap. He will back off, looking chastised and chagrined. He will stay away for a minute or two, then be back for more. Never one to give up is my fur boy. Quite now. AsperBoy is at school after having most of yesterday off. Having been sick for over a week. Food allergies again I’m sure. I know that Boy well. I know when it is a cold or a flu or allergy related illness. After having been sick for most of the first 6-7 years of his life with one thing or another, the relief when his allergies were discovered and he went from being constantly sick, to not only well, but so healthy he doesn’t even get a cold or the flu was a miracle. These days he only gets sick if he has had something that he will react too. So with his health being off again, out also came the behaviour problems associated with the food allergies. Sigh. Struggle struggle. The school has already called three times in the past week because of his behaviour and to say he was sick and refusing to participate in any school activities. The look on the head of support services face when we picked him again yesterday. But this morning he was back to feeling better. Even with the persistent cough. Support services are armed with lozenges from the health food store. Olive leaf extract and manuka honey. Hiding them from him so they don’t go down like lollies.
Tuesday. Here having time alone. Me and the Dogs. The cats too in their enclosure just outside, enjoying the morning sun and watching the lorikeets with wide eyes and diluted pupils. I can almost see the thought bubbles coming out of their heads. Images of them chasing the birds and feathers flying everywhere. And now the memory surfacing of a young Salem catching (accidently from a too low flying lorikeet) his first (and only bird) and the startled look on his face at the ruckus and uproar from it. It ended up dying of shock. And Salem never made the attempt to catch another. But then the lorikeets learned too not fly low near him again.
Memories memories. And thoughts churning and turning. Brain always going and sorting. Writing to help sort through it all. Then TV time to defrag and disc clean.
So what to write…..