Cool Dog Group

The other week, my friend added me to the ‘Cool Dog Group’ on Facebook. This means that my news feed has now been spammed with photos and videos of dogs. It’s a bit ridiculous. The latest one was that someone wanted to know if there was a ‘too soon’ for replacing your recently bereaved dog (it was a serious question). While I found this public post on Facebook wildly amusing, please don’t mistake me; my dogs are my pride and joy. I this ‘Cool Dog Group’ on Facebook is the sole reason I have had no real adventures this week. Like none. Actually, I did go for a Sunday afternoon drive, but that shouldn't count. 

It did get me thinking about my dogs though. I have two; Storm is really old and super sweet, and Rosie is full of energy and spastic. Dogs are great. They love unconditionally, on the condition that you feed them. But that’s the same with me and my parents; I love them unconditionally on the condition that they feed me.

Rosie and Storm

I took Rosie for a walk today and she ran straight past the other dogs in the park, and stole their ball. She then paraded around with it for about 5 minutes, while I chased her, before she finally decided to give it back. If this was a one time thing, it wouldn’t be so bad; but this is Rosie’s favourite thing to do every single time she sees this dog (whose name is Holly). Holly’s owners don’t like Rosie very much. Rosie even got the ChuckIt! ball launcher thrown at her out of exasperation today (much to my amusement).

Holly's doppelgänger

Anyway, what Rosie exemplifies is the somewhat spastic trend in my family. The whole family (or me and Mum and Dad) have been very much enjoying my one sister winning Miss Queen of the World, for our own various reasons. Believe it or not, a surprising number of people want to talk to the almost-as-famous-but-not-quite-as-famous family of Miss Queen of the World. It's kind of sad that IT is coming up again in my blog, but that’s the problem with being a member of the ‘Cool Dog Group’ on Facebook… Alas….

I don’t know what your childhood was like, but my is exemplified in the photo below, and has continued in a similar fashion (it wasn't even raining). 

Me: fashion icon

Everyone in my family is very eccentric. My sisters would have you think that they were normal and maybe even 'cool'  but that would be news to me. So that just leaves me and Mum and Dad and the dogs as fair game for blogging about (wouldn't want to stand on anybody's toes). The budgies might be eccentric too, but I don’t identify with them so much; but now that I think about it, they do a have a pet rat, so that’s pretty badass.

My mum is a bonafide criminal. She never pays for parking. She repeatedly gets tickets then doesn’t pay them until she gets threatened with court action. She reckons that crime pays, in a literal sense. I’m not so sure. At all.

Dunedin Railway Station

Arguably the most eccentric member of my immediate family is my dad. He’s lived in the same house for the last 50 years. His life mission is to accumulate junk. His life motto is if you haven’t found a use for something in the first 20 years you own it, you had better keep it for another 20 just to make sure it’s really not good for anything. 

Admittedly, those blankets finally got some use

Of all the members of the family who have been enjoying the aftermath of the Miss Queen of the World beauty pageant, my dad has been revelling in it the most. My dad is the singly most understated person I have ever met. Dad works at the hospital, and it was public opinion for a period of time that he was homeless due to his unkempt hair, lean demeanour and generally dishevelled appearance. I get that for any normal person, this would probably be a rather derogatory thing to say when describing them, but Dad loves this description of himself. He is so stoked. And not, like, a little bit stoked, like a lot stoked. He almost measures his self-worth in how eccentric and strange he can make other people think he is (which he is, so they’d be right).  

Winter is coming?

Dad came home from work the other night, genuinely confused. He couldn’t figure out why everybody kept congratulating him when his daughter had won Miss Queen of the World. He had nothing to do with it. Why would people congratulate him? However, Dad was and is and will continue to be of the belief that should he get the lipstick, and Miss Queen of the World his facial hair, you wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.

I’ll let you mull that over. Don’t try and picture it too hard. That wouldn’t end well for you. But I would just like you to take a moment to appreciate how remarkably normal I have turned out (at least at a superficial level - maybe?).

Here's a nice sunset. 

I love my family (even the slightly less eccentric ones).