Posted in blogging, Dogs, My wordpress, Story, Writing

Me and My Dog


For as long as I can remember, you’ve been my best friend.

You’re the only one that I always like.

When I’m angry or sad, you appear from nowhere, plonking yourself next to me with a sigh. You talk to me, telling me where your secret hiding places are, and where you buried your bone last week. You tell me all about the awesome stinky frog you found on your walk with Dad, and you tell me all about the great new friend you’ve made-“Archie”, but how he’s sometimes a bit annoying because he keeps steeling your ball.

You make me feel better. You understand me, and what it is I need.

We’re buddies, you and me.

You let me wet your head with my tears, and you help me hide the crumbs when I pinch another biscuit, but don’t tell mum, because she doesn’t know-It’s our secret.

You know all my secrets, and you never tell.

You don’t mind if I leave my yoghurt container on the floor every single morning. I get in trouble by the way, but it’s ok I’ll do it for you because I know how much you like to lick it clean. I know, because I can read your mind.

I know that you are sad when you are left by yourself in an empty house. I know you love to sleep in mum and dad’s bed when you are cold, I know that you secretly hate dog food and would prefer lasagne every night, but you’re grateful you get something, so you don’t complain-but I can tell.

I know that at the end of the day, when all the humans in the world bug me, you are the only one that knows.

I am glad you are my dog.



Posted in blogging, Daily muse, Funny, Humour, Story, Writing

Attempted murder, a toaster and six ugly legs

Inspired by the WordPress Prompt

Locked or in this case STUCK!


Attempted Murder, A Toaster, and Six Ugly Legs



I awoke this morning in my usual fashion-barely able to balance on my feet-stagger, stagger-rubbing my eyes to achieve some kind of focus, grumpy that I was required to exit my bed at all and with a solid plan to avoid anything that resembled a human in case they attacked me with jobs and just stuff, during grump hour.

The kettle was there, waiting for me-same place as yesterday…and the day before…to assist me in dragging myself out of slumber, and into the day ahead. As I approached it, I was given an almighty jab of adrenaline when sitting casually in front of me, spread out completely relaxed on his banana lounge it would seem, was a King cockroach.

Now when I say King Cockroach, I mean King Cockroach. The half bug half cow variety, have you seen those? The feral thing was playing around with its feelers and sussing out my Kitchen bench.

As I knew the littlest kid was up, I proceeded to yell.


The response, no more than a grunt, was not promising. I didn’t muck around and ran into the lounge room.

“Xav, please come and kill this cockroach”

He looked at me as if it was way too much to ask of him, but decided to assist all the same.

“Oh, that’s disgusting” he said

“You’re telling me. Get him”

I’m not sure what he did next, but it resembled a stiff piece of plank, edging it’s way, less than a millimetre closer and launching a hand towel at it.

“What are you doing? It’ll run away, you’ve got to squash it.

He stood frozen for a second, staring at the creature, and was absolutely no help to me whatsoever.

As I was about to grab the other child, Xavier screamed…

“He’s run into the toaster”


“Oh good God” I blasphemed.

“I have no time, and now the thing has made home in the toaster…I need to cook my toast”

Xavier’s response?

“Well I can’t get him now, he’s in the toaster” -and just like that he wondered off, unfussed.

I immediately skipped plan B- grab the second kid-and implemented Plan C-out came the big guns.


Now Michael was out walking the dog, wasn’t he. Typical, although, strangely he replied.


He was outside.

I bolted out the door.

“There’s a cockroach in the toaster, and I’m hungry. Please can you get it out?”

“Are you sure?” He questioned

“Yes, We saw him run in there”

Twenty minutes later, after thoroughly inspecting the item, bashing it on the grass outside, pulling it apart, and staring at it for ages, Michael looked at me.

“It’s not in there”

“It is”

“It’s not”

“It is”

…and then we heard it. It was wriggling around inside.

“Told you” I said.

Michael thought for a bit.

“Let’s cook it”

“Noooooooo! Oh that’s gross. I’ll never eat toast out of it again. That’s disgusting” I could literally feel my stomach churn at the thought of toasted cockroach.

He pushed down the lever and the toaster began to glow.

I couldn’t stand it, so I left the room, but the burning smell was evident.

“Oh geez Michael are you serious?”


“Did you get him out?”

“Yep. Got him”

I could sense something. I don’t know what, but something in his voice smelled of lies.

I closed one eye, lent toward him…and whispered

“I want evidence”


“No really. I took the toaster outside….and ”

“Eeeew, was he cooked?”

“Nope, he was quite chuffed. He crawled out and ran away. Then I stomped on him on the road”

I didn’t believe him for a second. Not for one second. I could smell a rat. Excuse the pun…

“Where’s his body? Prove it” I said

I followed him to the road…



Posted in blogging, Deep, Story, Writing

What Lies Behind The Window





When I was little, I would stare out the window for hours, alone with my thoughts, free to watch the butterflies as they floated through the country air with elegance. They would land on the green vine that weaved it’s way around our back verandah, and talk to the caterpillars about their impending transition, whilst shading themselves from the summer sun.

I know this because my eyes witnessed the story, and ’twas second nature for me, to daydream in this manner.

Today, there is little time for window gazing and butterflies-a shame, I guess when I think about it, as the loss of that space has at times, affected my ability to be still.

…and then suddenly, one random day, I found myself staring down the lens of stillness; and it reminded me of that window, that captured me all those years ago.

I felt silly, if not ignorant, that of course, there are always windows, and of course, there are always butterflies…and it is Ok, to take the time-to find them again.

Posted in Elephant Journal, My wordpress, Story, Wordpress prompts, Writing

Dealing With Change

Black and White anime couple:

‘Change is the constant, yet life confronts me and I am dragged forward, many times over’


Dealing With Change



Nicole Martin

There have been times in my life when ‘change’ has been warmly welcomed-a breath of fresh air, one could say.

Occasionally a bright new opportunity has presented itself resulting in a newly challenged, motivated me.

But change has also been brutal-knocking me off my feet, leaving me empty, heavy-hearted and fearful. The resentment and frustration I felt at the time, caused me to challenge the situation and fight in desperation to hang onto what was already gone- but eventually, the denial was corroded by the call for acceptance.

I remember so clearly the day my son graduated from Junior School. His friends, the brotherhood, were united in the anticipation of this momentous occasion. When it was time for their goodbyes, devastation hit the decks. Heartfelt tears rolled forward as they clung onto each other, their young souls aching.

As I watched from a distance and felt their pain one slow minute after another, I knew that they were fearful.

They were now stepping into the unknown, fearful of a future without their friends close by. Sorrowful at the loss of their past and resistant to accept the change that was closing a chapter in their lives, never to be re-lived.

‘With age, comes wisdom.’

How do we let go of what is gone forever?

Once gone, there is no possible way to bring back the past-this shocking truth can wound the strongest of souls-but our most loved memories are never completely lost.

 It’s within this epiphany that they key to letting go is hiding.

The key to moving forward comes with the understanding that precious memories very close to our hearts are entwined within our Journey of life.

Sure, it is necessary to keep rolling forward, but at the same time, we carry inside us all the pieces that represent our lives lived so far-and there is no need, to ‘let them go’ or ‘erase them.’

Ironically, the key to letting go and moving happily forward, is in NOT letting go of those memories we cherish, but in taking them with us and allowing them to live forever in our minds,  as we move through change.


All Relationships Change-with the exception of a select few-the keepers

For me, circumstances changed and friendships changed with the cycle of life whether I liked it or not.

People sauntering in, people fading out, each and every one of them serving a purpose-all playing a part in my journey of life.

Over the years, reflection has brought me to the realisation that some have walked with me for a while, and have then parted as they’ve discovered their own path.

There are those that have taken great pleasure in filling my path with obstacles and confusing signage, in a desperate need for me to lose my way and walk ‘their’ journey-yet it never really feels right though does it?-Like a square peg in a round hole-yet strangely, we all do it in hope of holding onto something we care about.

Others have left but a tiny footprint in the sand, one of pure perfection and endearment, a fleeting visit but an impression all the same.

There are those that have caught a ride on my back- I willingly carried them, but they weighed me down, and I slowly sank into the depths of the sand until I eventually found the strength to shake them off.

Some came screaming up behind me, with limitless energy and promises of tomorrow. They offered gifts of exhilaration and excitement—a welcome change to my seemingly mundane path. I snatched them like an excited child, only to find they didn’t exist, the promises were hollow, and they were never really walking beside me in the first place-but I was blinded by my own masterpiece. I only saw, what I desired them to be.

Many were ghosts in the night, crossing my path briefly and then vanishing as quickly as they came, their images too faint to make a memory.


And then there are the keepers

The ones who lay down a thousand lamps so that we may see

The ones whose fingertips are laser beams, showering infinite rays of color over our journey

The ones who blow the cool breeze our way when we swelter

The ones who stand back when we need to run

The ones who hold our hands when the path becomes rocky

The ones who carry us when we are bleeding

The ones who get back up, when we push them away

The ones whose arms are there when we reach out

The ones who always see the real us, despite our disguise

The ones whose footprints remain, right beside ours, throughout the billowing storm, until all the pieces have been placed and the puzzle is complete.


So in times of change and uncertainty, I always try to turn around and face my path. I look for the keepers that will always be there, patiently waiting to take my hand and shed light on the journey ahead.

And I look for the beloved footprints behind me, taking comfort in the fact that they can never be erased.

They will always be part of my life, and they will always be a part of my journey.

Together we travel towards wisdom.

Post Inspired by the Daily Prompt

Mad Libs

When consulting a friend on post ideas, she declined to provide an adjective, noun or article specifically. She simply said, please write something on  ‘Dealing with Change’

So I spent some time heavily editing an old story of mine, and brought it back to life.

I hope you enjoy it.