Friday 28 June 2013
Wednesday 26 June 2013
The Thicknee
Allow me to introduce Buhrinus capensis, or the spotted thicknee:
These birds are not rare, if you live in South Africa, chances are you've been closer to one of these than you realise. They're not small either, standing well over 40 cms tall. Much taller than the very startled little pug that hid behind me as I took the picture.
They're quite splendid, though. Interesting, too, look at the huge eye for finding food hidden even better than the thicknee itself in the grass. At night, no less!
This is but one of a myriad of local species of birds, some quite rare (wattled plovers, for instance), but most, really common, that you can find in your back garden. In the case of the thicknee, it has camouflage on its side - if this guy was sitting still I wouldn't have noticed it. The pug, with her much keener senses, definitely did not. In many cases, though, our birds are riotously colourful.
Why is it then, that our landlord felt the need to point out a perfectly ordinary, yet somehow freed from the cage it should be occupying, parakeet? No other bird seems to arouse his curiosity, in fact, he seemed not to notice them at all. But this man made creation was worth waking us up at seven on a Saturday. I can't help but be convinced that this is the case for most of my fellow South Africans.
I'm a keen bird watcher, as you may have figured out. It seems to me such a pity that so few people notice our natural feathered splendour. I mean, have you seen a thicknee?
Neatness
This, dear readers, is our dining table:
We only have a dining table because of me, I wanted one. I have a desk too (currently covered with things).
I am not generally a neat person. Organised, mostly (I know where everything is - the oldest excuse of the messy), but not neat.
My dear husband tolerates this as best he can. His admonishments are gentle.
But, the results of this mess are often quite nice, if you ask me. Because this mess, the general clutter I surround myself while busy, is the mess of me getting things done. My desk is in chaos - but it's a productive chaos. My field notes, papers I referenced, the book I just finished (open at the place where I found a killer quote) and, sadly, the laundry basket lid, form the strata of the progression of my masters degree.
Our dinner table is a place of fun, however (even though I've been writing there - the clutter is getting a tad oppressive - join me in laughing at myself for a minute). The latest creation from there is this splendid collar, for my sweet Talos.
Yep, she's a beauty :) The collar is pretty nice also.
Alright, so tonight I'll de-clutter my desk. The dining room table, though, has to wait for a trip to a good craft/fabric store. Need me some buckles and other metal accessories. :D
(with greatest apologies and appreciation to the wonderful husband. Thank you for seeing the pretty, and ignoring the mess. You are much loved)
I am not generally a neat person. Organised, mostly (I know where everything is - the oldest excuse of the messy), but not neat.
My dear husband tolerates this as best he can. His admonishments are gentle.
But, the results of this mess are often quite nice, if you ask me. Because this mess, the general clutter I surround myself while busy, is the mess of me getting things done. My desk is in chaos - but it's a productive chaos. My field notes, papers I referenced, the book I just finished (open at the place where I found a killer quote) and, sadly, the laundry basket lid, form the strata of the progression of my masters degree.
Our dinner table is a place of fun, however (even though I've been writing there - the clutter is getting a tad oppressive - join me in laughing at myself for a minute). The latest creation from there is this splendid collar, for my sweet Talos.
Alright, so tonight I'll de-clutter my desk. The dining room table, though, has to wait for a trip to a good craft/fabric store. Need me some buckles and other metal accessories. :D
(with greatest apologies and appreciation to the wonderful husband. Thank you for seeing the pretty, and ignoring the mess. You are much loved)
Tuesday 18 June 2013
The Weekly Wicket
Disclaimer: This may not actually happen weekly... Wicket can't tell which day of the week it is, and so loses track of time.
(Wicket and friends are fine, I will keep a close eye on them)
Dear person who breeds puppies
Dear Person who breeds puppies
I came across your advertisement recently where you indicate that you have puppies for sale. I am a supporter of a group known as Pug Rescue South Africa, and it is with that in mind that I feel compelled to write to you.
I am sure you only want the best for your puppies. Happy family pets who live out their lives appreciated and loved. I want to help you do that. There are a few things you can do to help prevent your puppies from ending up in the SPCA, where it's almost definite that they will be put down, or in the hands of people that will mistreat them. Many purebred dogs end up in shelters, many of those are pugs. This is a sad part of our society, it cannot be ignored, especially not by people who are breeding.
Please don't sell your puppies before they're at least 8 weeks old (12 is better). During this time with their mom and siblings, they learn a lot about not biting too hard and about playing nicely with others. A lot of dogs end up at the pound because they bite people or other dogs, so this will go a long way to keeping them in their homes.
Many people who breed dogs sell them through pet shops. At a pet shop, the puppies spend long hours in a fairly boring enclosure, but, more importantly, at a pet shop, they're likely to be bought by people on impulse. Puppies are hard work, very many puppies bought on impulse end up at the SPCA between six and eight months of age. This is so sad, and you can help prevent this by selling from your own home. The little bit of extra effort people have to do to come to you and view the pups help eliminate true impulse buys. I'm quite sure the pet shop would let you put your advertisement up at the shop, especially if you promise to refer people back to the shop for collars, bowls and food.
Get to know the people you're selling your puppy to. Do they have some idea of what it will mean to care for a puppy? Can they take care of vaccines, deworming and so on? I am sure that you already won't sell your puppies to an obvious scumbag, but a lot of people seem nice enough on the surface yet plan to lock the poor dog in a room and breed him or her constantly, until they die.
Many people who breed for shows have people sign a contract when they buy a puppy to make sure that puppy is neutered or spayed. This helps keep dogs out of shelters by simply making sure there are less of them out there. It would be a good idea to do the same with your dogs, to make sure irresponsible people don't use your puppies to simply make money.
It is also definitely a good idea to keep in touch with people. In this way, you can see how your puppies grow, and often, you can get lovely pictures, perhaps over a facebook group. This way, if people ever cannot keep a puppy you would know, and ideally, that puppy would come back to you. Breeding dogs, in an ideal world, places the responsibility for those puppies with you, forever more. If this is not possible, it may be possible for you to assist them in finding another good home for the dog. Another way to make sure your puppies don't end up put to death in shelters (or unloved or even abused) is to make sure that everyone has the contact details of our local pug rescue. Pug Rescue South Africa does fantastic work to make sure pugs that don't have a home finds both a good home, and gets the health care they might need.
I've included links below to that will hopefully help, firstly, to a spay/neuter contract sample. Then, to Pug Rescue South Africa's contact details. I hope you will consider what I said above - far too many dogs end up unwanted and unloved, in small, bare cages, their lives cut short before their time. Let's be part of the solution, not the problem!
Kind regards,
Nina Worthe
Sample spay/neuter contract:
http://curioussniffle.blogspot.com/2013/06/spayneuter-contract.html
Pug rescue contact details:
http://www.pugrescue.co.za/index.php/contact-pug-rescue.html
I came across your advertisement recently where you indicate that you have puppies for sale. I am a supporter of a group known as Pug Rescue South Africa, and it is with that in mind that I feel compelled to write to you.
I am sure you only want the best for your puppies. Happy family pets who live out their lives appreciated and loved. I want to help you do that. There are a few things you can do to help prevent your puppies from ending up in the SPCA, where it's almost definite that they will be put down, or in the hands of people that will mistreat them. Many purebred dogs end up in shelters, many of those are pugs. This is a sad part of our society, it cannot be ignored, especially not by people who are breeding.
Please don't sell your puppies before they're at least 8 weeks old (12 is better). During this time with their mom and siblings, they learn a lot about not biting too hard and about playing nicely with others. A lot of dogs end up at the pound because they bite people or other dogs, so this will go a long way to keeping them in their homes.
Many people who breed dogs sell them through pet shops. At a pet shop, the puppies spend long hours in a fairly boring enclosure, but, more importantly, at a pet shop, they're likely to be bought by people on impulse. Puppies are hard work, very many puppies bought on impulse end up at the SPCA between six and eight months of age. This is so sad, and you can help prevent this by selling from your own home. The little bit of extra effort people have to do to come to you and view the pups help eliminate true impulse buys. I'm quite sure the pet shop would let you put your advertisement up at the shop, especially if you promise to refer people back to the shop for collars, bowls and food.
Get to know the people you're selling your puppy to. Do they have some idea of what it will mean to care for a puppy? Can they take care of vaccines, deworming and so on? I am sure that you already won't sell your puppies to an obvious scumbag, but a lot of people seem nice enough on the surface yet plan to lock the poor dog in a room and breed him or her constantly, until they die.
Many people who breed for shows have people sign a contract when they buy a puppy to make sure that puppy is neutered or spayed. This helps keep dogs out of shelters by simply making sure there are less of them out there. It would be a good idea to do the same with your dogs, to make sure irresponsible people don't use your puppies to simply make money.
It is also definitely a good idea to keep in touch with people. In this way, you can see how your puppies grow, and often, you can get lovely pictures, perhaps over a facebook group. This way, if people ever cannot keep a puppy you would know, and ideally, that puppy would come back to you. Breeding dogs, in an ideal world, places the responsibility for those puppies with you, forever more. If this is not possible, it may be possible for you to assist them in finding another good home for the dog. Another way to make sure your puppies don't end up put to death in shelters (or unloved or even abused) is to make sure that everyone has the contact details of our local pug rescue. Pug Rescue South Africa does fantastic work to make sure pugs that don't have a home finds both a good home, and gets the health care they might need.
I've included links below to that will hopefully help, firstly, to a spay/neuter contract sample. Then, to Pug Rescue South Africa's contact details. I hope you will consider what I said above - far too many dogs end up unwanted and unloved, in small, bare cages, their lives cut short before their time. Let's be part of the solution, not the problem!
Kind regards,
Nina Worthe
Sample spay/neuter contract:
http://curioussniffle.blogspot.com/2013/06/spayneuter-contract.html
Pug rescue contact details:
http://www.pugrescue.co.za/index.php/contact-pug-rescue.html
Spay/neuter contract
Spay/Neuter Contract
_________________ agrees to sell the following puppy to _______________ for the sum of _______
BREED: ___________________
SEX: M / F
SIRE: _________________
DAM: _________________
DATE OF BIRTH: _______/_______/______
COLOUR/MARKINGS: _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Spaying/neutering by a licensed, reputable Veterinarian is required on above puppy by ___ months of age. Proof of this, in the form of a Certificate of Spay/Neuter from the Veterinarian, must be forwarded to (breeder's name/kennel name) by the time the puppy reaches the age of 9 months old. If this is not received by (breeder's name/kennel name) within this time frame, (breeder's name/kennel name) has the full legal right to come take the puppy from your person or property with law enforcement officers and you must turn the puppy over at that time, without any refund of purchase price for said puppy. Buyer will be responsible for all costs incurred for the return of said puppy, including, but not limited to distance traveled, fuel, tolls, lodging, food, and all court and legal fees incurred for the safe return of said puppy.
It is understood at the time of sale that this puppy is not considered to be for show or breeding, it is a representative of its breed and is structurally and temperamentally suited as a companion and/or sport dog, and is being sold as a pet, without show or breeding rights.
If at any time, the above dog must leave permanent ownership of the buyer, the seller must be notified and said puppy must be return to the seller without any refund given, or surrendered to an appropriate rescue organisation.
Failure to follow this contract will entitle the seller to the return of said puppy as a result of breach of contract and any legal fees associated with legal actions or collection of fees. Including all expenses incurred for safe return of said puppy.
Buyer has received a copy of this contract. Buyer has read, understands, and accepts the terms of this contract. Buyer understands that by signing this contract it is legal and binding by the laws of South Africa and shall be resolved under South African law. Buyer also understands that by signing this contract the buyer is surrendering certain rights under South African law.
Seller 1:_____________________________________________________ Date:______________
Seller 2:_____________________________________________________ Date:______________
Buyer 1:_____________________________________________________ Date:______________
Buyer 2:_____________________________________________________ Date:______________
If any provision of this Agreement shall be held to be invalid or unenforceable for any reason, the remaining provisions shall continue to be valid and enforceable. If a court finds that any provision of this Agreement is invalid or unenforceable, but that by limiting such provision it would become valid and enforceable, then such provision shall be deemed to be written, construed, and enforced as so limited.
Poem for my Grandfather (Afrikaans)
My grandfather died a little more than a year ago. I can't believe it's been that long, on the one hand, and on the other hand, it feels like we've been without him forever.
Usually I'm not much one for public sentiment, at least not this kind of sentiment. On the one year anniversary of his death, my dad posted a series of pictures of him on facebook - a kind of eulogy. It was lovely. It made me cry. It also did something very few things ever make me feel like doing - it made me write a poem. It's in Afrikaans, I could never get the hang of expressing myself poetically in English well (at least, it doesn't feel that way).
I don't want to lose this poem. It may not be good, it surely has little literary merit, but it is a memory of how I felt, of who my grandfather was. So, for posterity, here it is:
Een dag kom ek agter:
Dit reën in my gemoed.
Dit vloei saggies, soos water
Stroompies oral in.
Dis nat in my herhinneringe.
My siel se fotoboek
Oorvloei van die water
Wat loop oor lank gelede.
Die strand verspoel,
Sloer weg die skulpies.
Voor ek kan keer is daar 'n vloed.
Alles is net bruin water
Oral waar ek probeer onthou
Is dit bedek met sediment.
Ek hoop dit bou 'n sandbank
Soos ek vaagweg onthou.
Waar daar trapplek is
Ten spyte van diep water
En hoë golwe.
Dat herhinneringe van my oupa
'n Mens, stil, dog onkeerbaar
Soos bruin Natal rivierwater,
Vir my 'n staanplek bou.
'n Mooi gedagte,
Maar tot dan toe kom ek agter:
Dit reën in my gemoed.
Usually I'm not much one for public sentiment, at least not this kind of sentiment. On the one year anniversary of his death, my dad posted a series of pictures of him on facebook - a kind of eulogy. It was lovely. It made me cry. It also did something very few things ever make me feel like doing - it made me write a poem. It's in Afrikaans, I could never get the hang of expressing myself poetically in English well (at least, it doesn't feel that way).
I don't want to lose this poem. It may not be good, it surely has little literary merit, but it is a memory of how I felt, of who my grandfather was. So, for posterity, here it is:
Een dag kom ek agter:
Dit reën in my gemoed.
Dit vloei saggies, soos water
Stroompies oral in.
Dis nat in my herhinneringe.
My siel se fotoboek
Oorvloei van die water
Wat loop oor lank gelede.
Die strand verspoel,
Sloer weg die skulpies.
Voor ek kan keer is daar 'n vloed.
Alles is net bruin water
Oral waar ek probeer onthou
Is dit bedek met sediment.
Ek hoop dit bou 'n sandbank
Soos ek vaagweg onthou.
Waar daar trapplek is
Ten spyte van diep water
En hoë golwe.
Dat herhinneringe van my oupa
'n Mens, stil, dog onkeerbaar
Soos bruin Natal rivierwater,
Vir my 'n staanplek bou.
'n Mooi gedagte,
Maar tot dan toe kom ek agter:
Dit reën in my gemoed.
The boarding line at an airport
At every line at every gate at every airport I've ever waited to board at, you get the same characters over and over. While I'd like to not even be noticed, like most of the nice passengers are, I think I may be "that strange lady that watches everyone". I'm not bitter or angry, but I do get annoyed. In the line there, I can't say much, or do anything - it's not fair to add to the share of irritations that are part and parcel of flying. But, without dwelling too much on that, let's move on to the people I was watching:
1. The sports team
Always more than three of them, but less than twenty, the sports team is usually wearing matching jackets with their names on them. They are also standing in precisely that spot where everyone must walk past, talking loudly about their exploits, sometimes athletic, usually sexual. Offhand comments about how they saw grown men behaving like children combined with lewd descriptions of their wild parties, with a smattering of insulting one of their own, usually the only one with a remaining clean shirt, completes the recipe. C'mon, bru! Paris was f@#$ing awesome. What was that thing called - that tower thing? With the lights? That was sweet!
2. The Duty-Free shopper
Only one item of hand luggage? Ha! This person has spent every last cent of their worldly funds (it seems) on duty free items. Eight bottles of perfume, four cologne. Five watches, and ten or twelve bottles of assorted liquor. Don't forget the half dozen extra-large Toblerones. Also, their on board bag is pushing the limits of decency, and they aren't a petite person either. Oh, and the kicker? You end up sharing their overhead compartment on board. Would I mind keeping my bag by my feet so they can put their stuff up top and out of the way? I mean, it's not like I'm 6 feet tall and need that tiny bit of leg room they give you, is it?
3. The American
With sincerest apologies to my American friends (who I am quite sure are part of the masses of folk that draw no attention to themselves), many Americans make horrible tourists and travelers. We're all standing in the queue. The queue that starts about ten meters and fifty people behind where I am, I'm half way to the front. The American and their offspring goes straight to the front of the line, like that's exactly what you're supposed to do. The friendly airline lady points out that the queue starts back there. American nods, says yes, that does seem to be the end of the queue, and doesn't move. Er, what on earth does the American think the lady was trying to do? Has she perhaps never seen the end of a queue in her life, and is so pleased that she must point out this object of curiosity? After three more reminders, and a couple more attempts of the American to just slip into the queue at the front, a male compatriot of hers tells them to go to the back of the line. As they walk past me, the child asks what I assume to be the parent why they're going to the back of the line. The American answers: "because that man told us to go there". I would have thought the reason is because you need to wait your fair turn. Oh well.
4. The reader
I'm all in favour of reading. Actually, I love reading, and am nearly always busy with some book or another. I have sympathies with wanting to read a nice book, and get lost in a fantasy world when your reality is a dreary queue and a looming ten hour confinement to a tiny chair with no space and strangers half on your lap. Truly, I do. But believe me, you can't, absolutely can't, be lost in a fantasy world and function in a queue. I don't care what you think you're doing, in reality, you drag behind, bump into people (or cause close calls in that regard), forget your bag, lose your place, fumble with your ticket, and generally are a little bit in the way. You are also unable to respond timeously to wild little children or to sudden emergencies (or, more practically, to announcements saying who should do what). If we could just all join you chasing dragons in the novel you're reading that would be grand, but since we can't, would you mind joining us in our dreary queue for the 30 minutes or so it takes? It will make it much easier on everyone to not have to gently guide you along. Because they do. Even if you don't know it.
5. The Dirty German
Again I must apologise before I start. But Germans, amongst you there are young persons, often with very professionally made dreadlocks and loose fitting (yet extremely expensive) hemp clothing. These oddballs (?) have forgotten one very small detail in their quest to save the world by escaping their privileged, middle class existence using airplanes to Africa. That is, that even in Africa, people bathe. You stink. Surely the little bit of deodorant you could have worn to avoid the cloud of body odour you sport will do less harm to the world than the airplane you're about to travel in? For that matter, it probably does less harm than the methane you yourself is producing. I have sat behind you once, and it truly made me airsick. To quote a brand you likely despise because of their exploitation of cheap labour (because all hemp is, of course, farmed responsibly by cheery middle class folks with good health care and a tertiary education); "just do it."
6. The worrier.
You have my sympathies. I know how anxious one gets before a flight. But yes, this is gate 28, Air Imaginary Flight 440. Yes, we are boarding in an hour. Yes, this one does go to Johannesburg. It's ok, I'll repeat all that information for you. So will the airline clerk. As will the ten other people you've asked. We may even be patient and polite. Truthfully, we're all nervous, and you're making us worse too. Why not go see that doctor of yours before hand, and get a little something something to help you? For your own sake - it can't be fun being truly terrified of being in the wrong place, but mostly, that little something is for the people who share a cabin section with you. There will be turbulence, and desperately yelling: "the plane is going down, I knew it, we're all going to die!" is not what you want to hear while doing your own best to just ride it out.
7. The smoker
You do not have my sympathies. You need to quit, because you are addicted, and that makes you a burden on others. Not just in the vague "you will use more than your fair share of the general government medical facilities and other communally funded things" way, in the literal, I'm sitting next to you and you're starting to shake, getting rather aggressive and the poor flight attendant is desperately asking for a nicotine patch for you (yes, they did find the nicotine patch). I've seen you hit a flight attendant when you were asked to please sit down. I've seen you twitch and shake. You need help. Especially when you're trying to smoke in the queue to get on to the plane!
I'm sure there are other stereotypes, but I've had one (or more) of these in pretty much every boarding queue I've ever been in. And truthfully, I feel better having written it out :)
1. The sports team
Always more than three of them, but less than twenty, the sports team is usually wearing matching jackets with their names on them. They are also standing in precisely that spot where everyone must walk past, talking loudly about their exploits, sometimes athletic, usually sexual. Offhand comments about how they saw grown men behaving like children combined with lewd descriptions of their wild parties, with a smattering of insulting one of their own, usually the only one with a remaining clean shirt, completes the recipe. C'mon, bru! Paris was f@#$ing awesome. What was that thing called - that tower thing? With the lights? That was sweet!
2. The Duty-Free shopper
Only one item of hand luggage? Ha! This person has spent every last cent of their worldly funds (it seems) on duty free items. Eight bottles of perfume, four cologne. Five watches, and ten or twelve bottles of assorted liquor. Don't forget the half dozen extra-large Toblerones. Also, their on board bag is pushing the limits of decency, and they aren't a petite person either. Oh, and the kicker? You end up sharing their overhead compartment on board. Would I mind keeping my bag by my feet so they can put their stuff up top and out of the way? I mean, it's not like I'm 6 feet tall and need that tiny bit of leg room they give you, is it?
3. The American
With sincerest apologies to my American friends (who I am quite sure are part of the masses of folk that draw no attention to themselves), many Americans make horrible tourists and travelers. We're all standing in the queue. The queue that starts about ten meters and fifty people behind where I am, I'm half way to the front. The American and their offspring goes straight to the front of the line, like that's exactly what you're supposed to do. The friendly airline lady points out that the queue starts back there. American nods, says yes, that does seem to be the end of the queue, and doesn't move. Er, what on earth does the American think the lady was trying to do? Has she perhaps never seen the end of a queue in her life, and is so pleased that she must point out this object of curiosity? After three more reminders, and a couple more attempts of the American to just slip into the queue at the front, a male compatriot of hers tells them to go to the back of the line. As they walk past me, the child asks what I assume to be the parent why they're going to the back of the line. The American answers: "because that man told us to go there". I would have thought the reason is because you need to wait your fair turn. Oh well.
4. The reader
I'm all in favour of reading. Actually, I love reading, and am nearly always busy with some book or another. I have sympathies with wanting to read a nice book, and get lost in a fantasy world when your reality is a dreary queue and a looming ten hour confinement to a tiny chair with no space and strangers half on your lap. Truly, I do. But believe me, you can't, absolutely can't, be lost in a fantasy world and function in a queue. I don't care what you think you're doing, in reality, you drag behind, bump into people (or cause close calls in that regard), forget your bag, lose your place, fumble with your ticket, and generally are a little bit in the way. You are also unable to respond timeously to wild little children or to sudden emergencies (or, more practically, to announcements saying who should do what). If we could just all join you chasing dragons in the novel you're reading that would be grand, but since we can't, would you mind joining us in our dreary queue for the 30 minutes or so it takes? It will make it much easier on everyone to not have to gently guide you along. Because they do. Even if you don't know it.
5. The Dirty German
Again I must apologise before I start. But Germans, amongst you there are young persons, often with very professionally made dreadlocks and loose fitting (yet extremely expensive) hemp clothing. These oddballs (?) have forgotten one very small detail in their quest to save the world by escaping their privileged, middle class existence using airplanes to Africa. That is, that even in Africa, people bathe. You stink. Surely the little bit of deodorant you could have worn to avoid the cloud of body odour you sport will do less harm to the world than the airplane you're about to travel in? For that matter, it probably does less harm than the methane you yourself is producing. I have sat behind you once, and it truly made me airsick. To quote a brand you likely despise because of their exploitation of cheap labour (because all hemp is, of course, farmed responsibly by cheery middle class folks with good health care and a tertiary education); "just do it."
6. The worrier.
You have my sympathies. I know how anxious one gets before a flight. But yes, this is gate 28, Air Imaginary Flight 440. Yes, we are boarding in an hour. Yes, this one does go to Johannesburg. It's ok, I'll repeat all that information for you. So will the airline clerk. As will the ten other people you've asked. We may even be patient and polite. Truthfully, we're all nervous, and you're making us worse too. Why not go see that doctor of yours before hand, and get a little something something to help you? For your own sake - it can't be fun being truly terrified of being in the wrong place, but mostly, that little something is for the people who share a cabin section with you. There will be turbulence, and desperately yelling: "the plane is going down, I knew it, we're all going to die!" is not what you want to hear while doing your own best to just ride it out.
7. The smoker
You do not have my sympathies. You need to quit, because you are addicted, and that makes you a burden on others. Not just in the vague "you will use more than your fair share of the general government medical facilities and other communally funded things" way, in the literal, I'm sitting next to you and you're starting to shake, getting rather aggressive and the poor flight attendant is desperately asking for a nicotine patch for you (yes, they did find the nicotine patch). I've seen you hit a flight attendant when you were asked to please sit down. I've seen you twitch and shake. You need help. Especially when you're trying to smoke in the queue to get on to the plane!
I'm sure there are other stereotypes, but I've had one (or more) of these in pretty much every boarding queue I've ever been in. And truthfully, I feel better having written it out :)
Monday 10 June 2013
The Pug and the Paunch - why less is more
There's no denying it,
pugs are cute. Those little wrinkles on their faces and the curly
tails … it's enough to make most anyone go 'aw'. Add to this
cuteness a propensity for begging and a bottomless pit for a tummy,
plus a tendency to prefer a warm lap over an intense workout … it's
no wonder so many pugs are overweight. I mean, who can resist this
face?
 |
| Talos is such a charmer! |
Why is too much weight
a problem?
Being overweight comes at
a hefty price, though (pardon the pun!). Medically, being overweight
increases breathing difficulty, something no pug needs. It increases
the risk of cardiovascular complications like heart attacks and
strokes, and it makes dogs more susceptible to diabetes. Being heavy
places extra strain on a dog's joints, and makes an already
heat-intolerant pug even more so. There is an increased risk of
cancer. The liver can't function as well either.
Practically, being
overweight makes any surgical procedures more risky. It can make it
difficult or impossible to hear a dog's heartbeat, or to find a vein
to administer anaesthetics. It also makes for a larger, much more
cumbersome pet to transport. Pugs are cuddle-buddies, but too big a
cuddle buddy can't easily sit on a lap any more.
The most prominent reason
for me personally to help your furry friend weight less, though, is
the impact being overweight has on their quality and length of life.
They are more lethargic, and less eager to play and to go places with
you.
 |
| Loopythepug's Loopy is clearly happy to be out and about |
How do I know if my
pug is overweight?
Now
that I've got everyone convinced that slim-and-trim is the way to go,
we need to know how to judge if a dog is overweight. There are many
given methods to judge, but for me, a combination of three things
seems to work best. Firstly, with pure bred dogs like pugs, you have
a slight advantage. You have some idea of what a typical pug should
weigh – between 6 and 9 kilograms (14 to 20 lbs) according to the
AKC standard. This is a poor guide for many pugs, though – they
seem especially variable in size, with even champion litters
occasionally having very small or very large pugs.
Secondly,
you can judge weight by feeling for certain features. The key area
here is the ribs. Believe it or not, you actually want to be able to
feel each rib fairly easily under that lovely coat of fur. If you run
your fingers along the back of your hand, you can get a good idea of
what it should feel like – each bone is distinguishable without
being overly prominent. If each rib bone is very distinct, and you
can easily feel the hip bones (to either side of the tail when it's
curled up over their back), chances are your pug is a little too
skinny.
 |
| Wonka and Nilla's Wonka shows off a lovely waistline on the beach. |
Finally,
you can tell by looking at your pug. I think this is where pugs make
life difficult for us. Cobby and square, after all, does not look
like a greyhound (nor should it!). However, even on a beautifully
cobby pug, a waistline is apparent, and there is a slight tuck under
the tummy. Square from above is definitely not ideal.
 |
| Countrypug's Toby is a tank of a pug, square and cobby. No saggy stomach or bulgy belly here! |
How do I help my pug
lose weight?
As
pet owners, especially as owners of pugs, who typically do not hunt,
we have the great advantage of being able to control pretty much
everything our dog eats. This means that we can easily (no, little
pug, stop staring at me like that!) regulate our dog's daily intake
of food. The first thing to do, however, is to go see your vet.
Sometimes, weight problems are caused by thyroid issues, and it's
always best to have your vet on board with a weight loss program.
Every
weight loss program starts the same way – weigh that pooch.
Keeping a chart will really help keep track of things. There are many
weight loss diets available on the market, and your vet may prescribe
one of these to help your dog lose weight. While I am sure these food
have helped many, they promote weight loss by reducing fat and
protein, and increasing carbohydrates in many cases. This can
encourage excess glucose in the system, which is not always an ideal
situation (especially in a dog more prone to diabetes). Cautiously, I
would advise you to cut out a third of your dog's daily food ration
(this includes treats and table scraps if you feel you must give them
– everything shrinks by a third). Keep it up for two weeks, and
weigh your dog again. If your dog is losing weight, fantastic! Keep
it up until you get to an ideal weight. If there has been no weight
loss, decrease by another third, and repeat the experiment.
Since
a lot of overweight dogs have lower metabolisms, getting them moving
will really help speed along their weight loss. Walks, playing fetch
or tug, a doggy play date with a playful canine pal, even a dog sport
like obedience or canine freestyle will really help to get your pug
moving.
Remember
to get agreement and cooperation from the whole family. It won't help
if you're carefully counting calories while your significant other is
sneaking them cookies. In the end, this irresistible face is not
asking you for food, it's simply saying: “love me”.
 |
| Frida's pug Popeye |
source:
Wolfsheimer, KJ. Obesity in dogs. The Compendium on Continuing Education for the Practicing Veterinarian. 1994:981-998.
Wolfsheimer, KJ. Obesity in dogs. The Compendium on Continuing Education for the Practicing Veterinarian. 1994:981-998.
With thanks to the
members of Pug Village!
http://www.pugvillage.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)