Man's best friend

My dear departed friends Malty & Rover

 

My first memory of man's best friend was when I was four years old and sitting in a cargo plane that had flown supplies into Berlin during the 1948/49 Blockade, been unloaded and then flew evacuees back to West Germany.

Across from us sat a woman holding a shopping bag with a tiny dachs-hund inside. The image of that dog has stayed with me all my life.

Years later, in West Germany, I would bring home any stray dog I could find, only to be told to take it straight back to where I had found it as we lived in a tiny walk-up flat barely big enough for our parents and us five children, let alone a dog.

Fast forward to 1973 when I lived in Honiara in the then British Solomon Islands Protectorate and an expatriate lady in the office was about to return to Australia. Knowing how much I loved dogs, she asked me if I would take care of her very old German Shepherd which I did, but, despite my spending many long nights and every weekend with him, he died within months, probably of a broken heart.

Rangoon in Burma had many skinny 'pagoda dogs' but I only kept a rabbit which, I suspect, was eaten by my domestic staff after I had left.

On Thursday Island in 1977 I inherited 'Snoopy' who spent more time chasing seagulls on the beach than being at home with me.

When living in Samoa, I fed several stray dogs who came to the house every night. They must've felt safer with me as Samoans still eat dogs.

In Georgetown on Penang Island a cat adopted me and slept on the window sill every night, while several years later in Townsville a beautiful Golden Labrador spent more time sitting next to me watching television than responding to calls from his owners down the road.

Then came Saudi Arabia where Muslims regard dogs as 'unclean' which meant that the few dogs that had been 'set free' rather than being given a dignified death by their departing expatriate owners were a much persecuted and sorry-looking lot.

And that was that until 2002 when Malty joined us and a year later Rover came into our lives. Both stole our hearts so completely that we will probably never have another dog again. Is that what Alfred Lord Tennyson meant when he penned those immortal words, "'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" ?

www.tiny.cc/riverbendmap

 

Good-bye, my friend

Little Rover born November 2002 passed away 30 August 2017

 

Lat night, at around ten past seven, the life force that had bounced little Rover - Mr Onederful! - through life for almost fifteen years, left him. We were both with him, talked to him, stroked him, and comforted him, and his big beautiful eyes were still looking up at us, as he took his last laboured breath.

We had one last day in the sunshine together, as he watched me prepare the vegetable garden, and he still enjoyed a large bowl of his favourite food, and we had come to accept that his seizures, sometimes just two a day (or night) but often more, would continue, but that he would always recover and be his beautiful, loving, wonderful self again.

This time it was not to be. Death is never pretty but his was as short and painless as any of us can ever hope for. From the time he lost consciousness until his eyes became unseeing, it was little more than a few short minutes. It was so quick, in fact, that the reality that the house will be so much emptier without him hasn't quite sunk in yet.

We placed him in his little sleeping box, covered him in his favourite jumper, and gave him a tearful burial minutes before midnight.

 

 

Good-bye, my friend, and rest in peace. We will never ever forget you.

 

The Rainbow Bridge ℬy the edge of the woods, at the foot of the hill, Is a lush green meadow where time stands still. Where the friends of man and woman do run, When their time on earth is over and done. For here, between this world and the next, Is a place where each beloved creature finds rest. On this golden land, they wait and they play, Till the Rainbow Bridge they cross over one day. No more do they suffer in pain or in sadness, For here they are whole, their lives filled with gladness. Their limbs are restored, their health renewed, Their bodies have healed with strength imbued. They romp through the grass, and sniff at the air, All ears prick forward, eyes dart front and back, Then all of a sudden, one breaks from the pack, For just at that instant, their eyes have met: Together again, both person and pet. So they run to each other, these friends from long past, The time of their parting is over at last. The sadness they felt while they were apart, Has turned into joy once more in each heart. They embrace with a love that will last forever, And then side by side, they cross over ... together.

 

Tributes

 

From Margaret and John in Sydney:

"Dear Peter It is with much sadness I read of your loss. Our pets give so much joy. Be comforted in knowing that you gave little Rover the best life possible and that you were both blessed to have your time together. I hope you can find some sunshine and reflect that he has no suffering now. Condolences to you and Padma."

❤

From Helene and Othmar in the Bay:

"Sad to hear that Little Rover has left you, but one day, you will meet him again and together you will be be happy again."

❤

From Reg in Wollongong:

"So sorry Peter, It is astounding just how close we become to our pets, particularly an all forgiving totally tolerant dog who is always loyal and always a friend despite the occasional vagaries of their master. Our irreplaceable pet has pride of place in our back yard under the bird bath, he too lasted a little over 15 years and was a wonderful animal."

❤

From Andrew in Mackay:

"A great companion gone to the other side. May he rest in peace."

❤

From Frank in Sydney:

"Sorry to hear about Rover. It’s always a tough time and one we have been through many times so can relate to how you must be feeling at the moment."

❤

From Jeff up the lane:

"Sorry to hear the sad news of Rover. I'm sure Suki will welcome him to Doggie Heaven."

❤

From John on Lombok Island:

"So sad Peter. I hope you get another puppy. I have two in Lombok; one rescued from a crazy monkey which had already killed two puppies; the other abandoned on the beach to die, both having a better life now."

❤

From Chris in Canada:

"You have the good memories which are few in life. Cherish them, my friend."

❤

From Colleen in Sydney:

"So sorry to hear about little Rover, but peace is now with him. Poor little puppy – sounds like he did a lot of suffering recently and while we don’t want to let go, we don’t want them to suffer. Think of the wonderful years and love he gave you, and really, could Rover have asked for a better life? He will be smiling in doggie Heaven!"

❤

From Ian in Mackay:

"You have indeed been fortunate to have had such loving pets come into your life. The joy, happiness and pleasure cannot be measured - it is a treasure forever embedded in your divinity."

❤

From Bozenna in Greece:

"Dear Peter and Padma, it's difficult to witness and enjoy the entire life span of a beautiful creature only to see it all end. I am sorry for your loss."

❤

From Chris in Switzerland:

"Sincere condolences for your loss."

❤

From Urs in Brisbane:

"I am sorry to hear of your loss my friend, it is always hard to lose a companion like Rover, dogs give us so much and do not ask for much in return, I guess this is why we miss them so much when they are gone, my thoughts are with you and Padma at this difficult time."

❤

From Renate and Jürgen in Germany:

"Mein lieber Freund am anderen Ende der Welt, Dein lieber kleiner Wegbegleiter ist nun auf dem Weg in den Hundehimmel. Glaube mir, ich kann Deine Empfindungen nachempfinden, wir haben das hinter uns gebracht, einige Male."

❤

From Margaret and Clayton in Canada:

"We were so sorry to hear Rover had passed away, and extend our most heartfelt condolences to you both. Our furry friends are beloved family members and bring us so much joy. Rover will certainly leave a void in your lives; may the cherished memories of all the wonderful times you spent together bring you solace. Our thoughts are with you both during this difficult time."

❤

From Des in the USA:

"I concur your feelings which we also had for our Benji when he passed on at the age of 17. We also said no to another until Leo came into our lives. They are truly mans best friend"

 

Look what the scanner dragged in!

 

Remember those pre-glued photo albums of yesteryears? You pulled back that transparent coversheet, placed your photos on the sticky stuff, and rolled the cover-sheet back over it again. Almost fifty years later, the photos are still in almost-mint condition but there's no way of prising them off that glue again.

Having just bought one of those new print-and-scan CANON gadgets, I scanned a few of those glued-down photos to share with you. They all date back to my time with the Bougainville Copper Project in 1970/71.

 

This is where I lived: Camp 6 at Loloho

My audit office at Loloho

Ditto

With Bob Green (left) on one of the islands offshore from Loloho

Doing what I did best: cutting contractors' progress claims down to size

Ditto

And when I wasn't cutting contractors' progress claims down to size for ten hours a day six days a week, I freelanced as tax agent and was also a Justice of the Peace.

A copy of my tax agent's certificate reissued long after my departure from New Guinea

I must've done hundreds of tax returns at $25 a piece which was serious money at a time when, in the currency of the day, a whole carton of beer cost a mere $7.50. My remit extended as far as the Commissioner of Taxation in Canberra and the Commissioner of Inland Revenue in Wellington with whom I had lengthy correspondence to exempt my "clients" from paying tax at home on their "world income" if their stay in New Guinea fell short of the required 183-day rule in Australia or the twelve months' required absence from New Zealand.

On one of the offshore islands. From left to right John Gaskill, next one unknown, yours truly having a laughing fit behind Jacko's back, Neil "Jacko" Jackson, and an Indian guy who's name I forgot

Beach party at Loloho

More of the beach party

... and more ...

... more: from left to right: yours truly, Neil "Jacko" Jackson, Frank Joslin, rest unknown

On the left Frank Joslin; "Jacko" Jackson with his back to the camera

And in mid-1972 I came back for more as Office Manager for Camp Catering Services - see here and here:

All good memories!

 

An airport with a difference

Welcome to Goat Island International Airport
Kai "Happy" Hansen on airport duty: "Todays searches are on young ladies only"
Find Goat Island on GOOGLE Map

 

What do you get when you combine a pet crocodile named Casey, a castaway nicknamed Happy, a secluded island ‘hotel’, and an open bar? A very unique Northern Territory adventure smack bang in the middle of the croc-infested Adelaide River at the sprawling ramshackle Goat Island Lodge.

The owner, Kai Hansen, came to Australia from Denmark as a young man and moved to Goat Island to escape city life — he had been living in a rural town outside Darwin when he heard they were going to replace the roundabout with traffic lights. That was the last straw and fifteen years ago when he bought Goat Island for "the price of a nice house in Darwin's northern suburbs".

 

You’ll need to hire a boat (or chopper) to get there – the island is 24 km
upstream from the Adelaide River boat ramp. “Call Jim at Arafura Boat Hire
(08 8988 1265) and tell him I sent you,” Happy advises. “He’ll sort you out.”

 

"This is my kingdom and I am the king! I'm an autocrat and I make the rules", says the 65-year-old Kai Hansen as he stands under a sign that reads, "WARNING - YOU ARE NOW ENTERING A POLITICALLY INCORRECT AREA. NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR INSULTS FROM STAFF".

 

Goat Island from the air

 

I hope to find my own Goat Island before all the political correctness in this country gets my goat.

www.tiny.cc/riverbendmap

P.S. There's more here and here and here.

P.P.S. According to www.naa.gov.au, Kai Hansen arrived in Darwin on a QANTAS flight on 9 July 1948:

Born 10.8.1915 - is he the same Kai Hansen?

 

Giving the Coffee Club a run for their money

Not the Coffee Club but that other little coffee shop down the road

 

It's been a long time since we've been to the Bay for a cappuccino since one of us has to dog-sit little Rover at all times as he nears the end of his fifteen long and happy years at "Riverbend".

He started to get the wobbles a few months ago when we took him to the vet who confirmed what we already knew: there is no cure for old age. Since then he's had more frequent attacks during which he loses consciousness, and involuntarily empties his bladder and bowel.

While he still keeps recovering to his former self and enjoys his food, we don't want to "play God" and will clean up and watch over him. When his time comes, we hope to have repaid him for all his love and loyalty.

Only then will we give the Coffee Club another run for their money by ordering two "homemade" cappuccinos in that other little coffee shop.

www.tiny.cc/riverbendmap

 

Who could refuse this refuse?

"Doors must be removed from all large airtight whitegoods and containers before disposal. Fridges and freezers left for disposal could trap and suffocate young children."

 

Tomorrow is Hard Waste Collection Day and I've wheeled out the old fridge and washing machine, both dating back to that better-be-forgotten year 1985 when I returned far too early from a successful and highly-paid expatriate career.

Was it burn-out? Was it homesickness? Or was it sheer stupidity that made me chuck in a perfect job (financial controller of a group of companies with offices in Jeddah, London, Paris, Zurich and Athens) in a perfect location (my "penthouse" office overlooked the bustling port of Piraeus in Greece) on a salary that still seems extravagant even today.

Anyway, it was too late for regrets and so I went on a shopping spree to furnish my flat in Sydney and, when that had soured on me, my house in Canberra, after which it all followed me down the coast to "Riverbend".

And here at "Riverbend" we've grown old and worn out together: the fridge, the washer, and me. They're taken away the fridge and washer tomorrow. When will they come for me?

www.tiny.cc/riverbendmap

 

The day the world exploded

 

On 27th August 1883 the most terrifying volcanic eruption occurred on the island of Krakatoa, five miles off the western tip of Java.

The island was destroyed and almost 40,000 people were killed. The impact was truly global: ships sailing in the Red Sea were covered in ash; barometers went haywire in Washington; the seas were disturbed in Devon; stunning sunsets burned over London; immense rafts of pumice floated to Africa.

The world shifted, geologically, politically and socially, and the word 'Krakatoa' became embedded in the consciousness of the modern world.

I have just re-read Simon Winchester's book by the same name and it was absolutely rivetting.

 

For the sake of balance

Go to page 67 by clicking here

 

It's been many years since I've put my hands on a Reader's Digest magazine or its books-by-the-yard, aka condensed books; however, when reading that my favourite writer, James A. Michener, had been a regular contributors, I retrieved some of his articles.

He begins his contribution "Islam - The Misunderstood Religion", written in 1955, with the words, "One of the strangest facts in today's world is that Islam, a religion which in many ways is almost identical with Christianity and Judaism, should be so poorly understood in America and Europe. Since there are 350 million Muslims in the world, and since they control many strategic areas of the earth, it is essential that we understand them better."

That was written more than sixty years ago. Today, those 350 million Muslims have become an estimated 1.6 billion and the words "ISIS" and "terrorism" make headlines every day. Would the world be a better place if more than a mere handful of those fanatics received the ultimate treatment under Shariah Law? You bet! Do I believe that the unfettered "Islamisation" of Europe is heading for a spectacular disaster? I do!

And yet, having lived in Saudi Arabia, I have nothing but respect for and fond memories of my past employers, the Mofarrij family, for Abdul Hameed, Ali, and my then boss, Abdul Ghani (who's since, sadly, passed away), and I hope that one day we can all live in peace and harmony, not necessarily side by side but in our respective corners of the world, and leave religion where it belongs: inside the mosques and churches.

In the meantime, read Michener's somewhat romanticised article here. It is used by various Islamic websites such as www.islamweb.net and www.shariah.ws to create a more favourable image of Islam than it really deserves, given the present state of affairs.

www.tiny.cc/riverbendmap

 

Practice makes perfect

 

Growing up in still bombed-out Germany in a two-roomed walk-up flat with my parents and four other siblings meant that my misspent youth was totally devoid of hobbies that may have equipped me with any sort of manual dexterity.

Then came a long period of boarding-house and construction camp living, followed by another twenty years of employer-supplied-and-maintained cars and houses, which meant that by the time I moved into my own house and faced my own maintenance work, the only tool I knew how to use was a hammer, and every problem looked like a nail.

Despite having accumulated a range of DIY-tools and some knowledge, acquired in the School of Hard Knocks and Cuts and Bruises, of how to use them, any maintenance work still strikes terror into my heart.

And so, having accidentally broken an underground copper pipe behind the under-utilised workshop, I was faced with calling out a plumber and paying $100-plus for a call-out, or doing the job myself by spending $19.90 on a copper-tube cutter and $5 on a "Sharkbite" connection.

I'm happy to say that the investment has paid off and the water is no longer dripping onto the ground but flowing in the direction intended. I feel so good about it, I almost want to chop up a few more pipes just to do it all over again. After all, practice makes perfect!

www.tiny.cc/riverbendmap