Good Morning

To all my pets...

Waking up usually happens in the dark. This is something I absolutely loathe. Even my body is in full protest. I have to suppress the urge to puke when Muki jumps me at four o clock. It’s not the full weight of him but the ungodly hour. Even in my high school days when I was supposed to be on my bike by 7:30 I would sit at the breakfast table on the verge of tears. I am not a morning person. I must love my dogs a lot to give in and let them all hop on the bed. 

When Bark and Boru start sleeping here we will need a bigger bed. How are we all going to fit in a single room? I will put the wheels on Barks bench and get her a proper cushion. If I can move it around during the day to make room for drying clothes or getting in the drawer of my cupboard it may work. The mind wanders. 

We all cuddle for a bit, Stella, Chocolate, Muki and me while we listen to the magic four squealing in the next room. I reluctantly get up and out the kettle on for mug of instant coffee. 

Bark, Banhi, Bence and Boru come racing out yelling like drunk teenagers.

Then I release the beasts. Bark, Banhi, Bence and Boru come racing out yelling like drunk teenagers. They are so freaking loud first thing I the morning. My neighbour Margit is usually up by this time too and  on her way to get some water from the stream. She will stick her head over the fence and usually give me a great. A chocolate bar or vanilla pudding. 

I sit on the steps and look at the sun coming up behind the hills. The first thing the magic four do is look for their big brother. They grab his ear, his lip, his tail and he patiently teaches them that this is not a good idea. Then they chase each other around the garden for a while. Once the edge is off this early morning frenzy, they get to work. There is a serious digging and tunneling project underway. Half of the mountain of cow shit is now spread all across the gravel drive way. I may need to reroute. 

I try to go to the outhouse to read my horoscope on the loo in peace and throw my coins for the Itjing. I don’t like routines and the rest of my days are usually some haphazard attempt to tackle my to do list in random order. But my mornings are like a religious ritual.

Then I get kibble for the pups. We are practicing sitting down before receiving food but we are not there yet. I have never trained any of my dogs. With Stella and Chocolat it took around three two years before we understood each other and they vaguely obey. We have established mutual respect. But when they want to chase a deer or see someone they like and want to say hello I no longer exist. 

It’s my fuzzy wuzzy way of easing into the day. 

By now the kettle has long boiled and I make my coffee. I share my cream with Puss Puk who sits on the table meowing in anticipation. I climb back into bed and switch on the TV. I rewatch some series on Netflix that I don’t really need to pay attention to while I look at stuff on Instagram and read articles in various newspapers that I don’t really want to sink into my brain properly. It’s my fuzzy wuzzy way of easing into the day. 

Mornings are hard at the moment. I am working on it, through gardening and meditation and listening to various very smart people who know about trauma and the body and the nervous system, but panic attacks and depression linger. 

It feels like drowning. I feel like I am paddling my feet like crazy looking around me for something to grab onto to stop me from going under.

What I grab onto are my pets. Snuggling up with their warm furry little bodies makes me feel safe.

Like during the depths of the pandemic and my various stints in isolation they are my life line. Puk has finished her cream and sits on top of my chest. She usually feels which lymph nodes are a bit clogged up. Making cookies is an excellent substitute for lymphatic massages. 

By the time I get up to make a second mug of coffee Puk wants to go outside. I open the door and she looks to see if the coast is clear. Being chased around the yard by four excitable pups isn’t the most chilled out situation but she takes it in her stride. And she has Muki to protect her. 

The first time I saw Muki intervene on her behalf I didn’t quite believe it. The second time it was undeniable. Muki protects Puk and teaches the pups to leave her alone. Puk was on top of the pile of rocks being chased by Banhi. Muki quickly put himself in between and ordered Banhi to back off. 

I sat down on one of the rocks and sobbed. The night Loli died Muki was by my side going bezerk. Seeing him being so protective of Puk made me realize that like me, he too must have felt so helpless. Neither of us could save her. 

Writing this now makes me cry and I need a third coffee. And possibly Palinka - thinking of Api and Lolli still feels like having my heart ripped out. I have trouble breathing. I take my glasses of to wipe my tears but then without biases I can’t see and can’t type so I put them back on and just let the tears stream down my face. Who cares. My hand automatically reaches for the nearest pet. Which is little Choccy. 

Choccy Woccy Doodah. Madame Chocolat. Stella belly. Muk Meister. Rufus Dufus. Pukluk. Pukkie. 

Banhi banana Banhi banu…

Barkelark. Barkelutz. Lady Barkestein… 

Benceboyboy… 

Boruka bazuka…

Apollo Monkey Boy Schnoogems RIP

Lollipop Hussy Girl Schnoogems RIP 

I LOVE YOU