Where were you when you heard that Princess Diane was dead?

I was at a dog show in Bloemfontain — it was about 5 – 5:30am.

The dog show starts at 08h00  but you need to get there and set up and all this shit that sane people who do not go to dog shows just cannot understand.

The entire premise of dog shows is weird — it defies imagination.

I was once at a dog show which was raining so hard, I had to sit in the car with my dog.  No one chickens out of a dog show — but it was raining, like Noah’s Ark raining and I was just “fuck this” I will sit in my car until I was called.

I was showing Boston Terriers at the time, which really just need a shammie to wipe them off and you are good to go.  Easy squeezy lemon what ever rhymes with squeezy.

I sat in my cat as the heavens emptied onto the earth and watched a woman fire up the generator to fire up her hair dryer to do the final touches to her poodle.

So here is the thing — dog shows do not stop when rain falls from the heavens.  I sat and listened to this generator power up – it sounded like Eskom Level 3 output.  She dried this dog and got him sorted.

Then the dog needed to go into the ring.  Dog shows aren’t exactly hard core — but rain or shine this shit carries on. All this woman’s work, and she probably woke up at 3am to start this prep was totally washed out in about 12 seconds.

Anyway back to me and hearing about Princess Diane’s death.

We were showing Staffordshire Bull Terriers at the time — which are really easy dogs to maintain.  Quick wipe and you are done — add some vaseline to their nose and you are at the high end of maintenance.

Our SBT was pied and mainly white — so when he ran across a muddy field I had to take him and put him in the shower with me — it was just easier — then dry him off and he was good to go.   The white had to be white — until he walked in the muddy ring and was brown.  You had to be seen to actually make an effort.

He had slept the night and we needed to prep, so I took him to the field for a run — we had enough time to wash him or what ever and still get to the grounds on time.  We being me, but I am saying me like there was a fucking village behind this bullshit.

My dog was running off lead of a field.

He saw a bird and really started to run.

Like Forrest Gump run and does not slow down and runs 12 states.

I was screaming and running after him — his name was Willy — so I was screaming WILLY, WILLY, WILLY and I was running at more pace than I had.

Keep in mind it is a dead quiet morning.  Me screaming Willy in a field in the dead of the morning in Bloemfontein. Not sure that people grasped the context.  I was shit scared my dog would run off the field and keep running to Zimbabwe.

My partner was on the other sided of the field screaming that Princess Diane had died and he had to keep screaming louder because I was screaming Willy and running and thinking I was having a freaking heart attack —- it was a very confusing time.

Where were you?

I held a baby in the bathroom today ….

Image source:  KRISTY BURRELL – LXC 03 – www.facebook.com/kristyburrellphotography


I went into a public bathroom today.  It had two stalls, two adults and two children already there.

I am that person who leaves going to the bathroom until I am actually already spotting urine.  For me to arrive and find people there leaves me with a deeply troubling problem.

There was a mom trying to talk her toddler through using the toilet – she had an infant boy on her breast and she realised that the toilet needed some assistance.

She took her infant off her breast, looked at me and asked me to please hold her son as she needed to help her other son as this potty training thing was a big deal.

Totally on board.  Took baby, like this was a normal thing, and put him into a position against my chest and under my chin.

I got to hold this warm, fuzzy boy — you know how you just remember to hold a baby, even if you have not touched one in years.

I nestled him in my neck, and had him close against my chest and just patted him.

He smelt like warmth, happiness, milk and just all things good.  I probably had him for about two minutes, and he nestled in and it was pure joy.

It was almost as nice as snuggling puppies.

The mom came out of the bathroom and thanked me — she did not know me from Adam — and took her baby.

I understand how people end up with 5 or 8 kids.  A soothed baby smells like all things good, a baby nestling in to you makes you think of happiness and joy.  Your ovaries start to go — hey we have an old egg or two lying around, how about it?  Come on — remember the good times.

In a matter of moments I had charted out an entirely different life.

I had forgotten about the sleeplessness, the going it alone, the milk puke that lives on you, the inability to go and pee alone, the constant worry and frantic mania about just about everything.

I forgot about the post natal depression, the bleeding nipples, the pain of recovering from a third and very sore c-section.

The fact that my body felt like it had been hit by a truck and it took weeks for all that aching to go away.

The loneliness, the anger, the resentment.  The fact that it was so freaking hard — all of it.  Nothing went to plan.  I was operating on minimal sleep and my brain was fried.

In the public bathroom with that precious little boy all my brain did was secrete dopamine.  And happy thoughts.

Now whilst I am on the couch, with wine and without (well nearly without) a worry in the world, I am glad that sweet little boy went home with someone else.

Happy “no creamy shit nappies on a Friday night” Day!!!!