Pets, poo and winter in Oz...

Perhaps I was a little unfair to Aussies in my last post. I must admit I was generalising about Midland which -- it must be said -- doesn't fairly represent, well, anywhere. Midland is what you'd call 'red-neck' country, and what else can you expect what with all those houses hidden in the woods and chainsaws and stuff? Oh, and sensual massage parlours, lets not forget about those (my favourite of which is called 'il signore's Retreat - sensual massage' -- which is located between a petrol station and a tyre shop -- and which presumably comes with a happy ending, so to speak).

Getting to know you!

I reported three months ago that I had yet to lay eyes on my neighbours and as of today this remains the status quo. Although I would quite like to have a word with them, just to let them know that their house appears to be splitting down the middle and on the verge of collapsing and rolling down the hill (I don't think they can see that from their side). But seriously, I would like to meet them, not least to satisfy myself that my life isn't in danger -- what with DH being away on FIFO -- particularly since I have spent many nights laying in bed, frozen to the sound of the possum creeping about on the roof, imagining my neighbour up there, wearing a mask made out of his mother, carrying a lump hammer.

Anyway, from my experience Aussies are nice people, although they do love their pets just a little too much for my liking. I don't think I've met anyone here who doesn't have a dog for example. I guess it's the British in them. The Irish are slightly more dismissive of their pets, although they've got nothing on the Arabs. In the UAE I could probably count on one hand how many times I saw someone with a pet (although I do remember reading a disturbing story about an Emirati man who was found with a 'pet' lion in his car, its claws removed).

Islam supposedly looks kindly on animals (with the exception of pigs of course -- they really hate 'em), and although the Qur'an urges compassion towards them, the truth is that many Muslims see dogs as ritually unclean and avoid them at all costs. I remember giggling guiltily as I watched a Pakistani gardener frantically trying to escape from a neighbour's pet dog, terrified of being rendered unclean by the playful animal. Of course the more the man yelped and dodged, the more the dog redoubled his efforts. And funny as the scene was, I empathised deeply with the man, I too have been a victim of dog-abuse (or should that be human-abuse? Well dog-abuse sounds better...)

Here I am, aged 11, walking into town with my sister, wearing a fetching lemon top with matching lemon jeans (I know, I know, but in my defence it is the 80's). As we stroll along the main street, a large labrador puppy gallops amicably over and proceeds to jump up on me. His paws are covered in poo. Yes poo, and within seconds so too is my lemon ensemble. My sister is almost wetting herself with laughter, but I am failing to see the funny side of the situation, and to make matters worse have to suffer the indignity of walking back home covered in dog-poo, no longer fancying that large 99 ice-cream that I had set out to purchase.

This for me is a painful memory, and I never quite got over it, and to this day I cannot stand dogs coming anywhere near me.


However, I was in a shop the other day which sold -- wait for it -- dog diapers. Yep, nappies for dogs. Of course my first reaction was - Preposterous! Ridiculous! until I reflected back on that miserable afternoon in the 80's and suddenly it all made sense.

But it gets better -- you can also buy DVDs for your pets here too -- in case they get lonely while you're out at work I presume -- or maybe to keep them quiet while you're making the dinner or having a shower. They seem to consist entirely of footage of other pets which I suppose is reasonable, after all we humans generally prefer movies about other humans.

But the good news is that today is the first day of my first Australian winter. Yes, as I sit typing --  barefoot and sleeveless -- looking outside at the sun fading through the eucalypti, mother nature is busily ushering in Old man Winter, readying herself for three months of 'not very hot but let's face it not exactly cold' weather.

Certainly autumn felt mostly like a really nice Irish summer, the sort that has everyone racing to the nearest beach, clambering for a little bit of rash-inducing sun, before complaining that it's too bloody hot, just as the water shortage notices start appearing in the local papers. Of course the shops here are full of winter clothes, which just seems incongruous to anyone who's idea of winter is lashing rain and pitch blackness by 4 pm. But I shan't complain, at least I don't have to fret about filling the oil tank.