The Man in My Life
This is my dog.
He's kind of small in the scheme of things...
Even though he can be too big for his boots
Sometimes, he’s caught red… uh… pawed while making mayhem in my closet
He likes to chill out too
Meet Chip, my Jack Russell Terrier who’s just turned eight, going on two. Our love story is one that stretches many years, many biting incidences and many many laughs and tears. I love most animals in the world (short of cockroaches, which are more like six legged aliens than anything) but dogs hold a special place in my heart.
I do, however, as in most aspects of my life, have weird taste. M and I have a running difference about this because she seems to prefer dogs who are handsome, well-behaved and have a certain pedigree bearing about them. It’s not that I don’t. I love dogs with long luxuriant fur, good manners and handsome, well-bred faces as much as the next guy.
But in my heart, I also have a huge soft spot for dogs that are not quite perfect. The dogs with lopsided ears and short, rough fur, bright, naughty eyes and pseudo cowboys names like Max, Hunter, Ranger and Bandana. In other words, the mutts. The dogs that don’t really have a pedigree to call their own, but instead, own an indescribable charm that is part playfulness, part spunk. Maybe it’s because I’m a mutt myself, without pure bloodlines or perfect breeding.
My own dog was the runt of his litter and has a funny bowlegged, pointy eared appearance that isn’t really befitting of a prize terrier. My family wanted the other puppies in the cage, the ones who sat upright and looked picture perfect with their floppy eared insousiance, right out of the owner’s manual. I went for the muttly looking dog who bounded to the cage to lick me in greeting and who was so much smaller than the other dogs that people sometimes compared him to a cat.
==========
In other news, I spent a large part of my Saturday evening ankle deep in mud at a Worker’s Party Rally. Me, the PAP supporter of the century! At the end of the two hours, I looked like I had just stepped off the slow boat. It was actually a lot of fun though, and I thought, a great insight into the way that these rallies actually worked in reality.
The workers party speakers weren’t really native to the English language and so things got pretty amusing. One memorable gaffe:
When one Worker’s Party Member commented that the PAP was making a “molehill out of a mountain”. The public looked vaguely confused for a second. I’ve been told that it came out in the right order in the newspapers, but trust me, I was there! Journalistic integrity, my ass.
Jokes aside, I thought they did a commendable job of making themselves heard despite the fact that they didn’t say anything revolutionary or really stirring. They did, however, promise an awful lot, including that they would speak up courageously in parliament and that they would commit to the real needs of their people.
That’s when it struck me, that really, the opposition promises a lot of things. And there’s nothing wrong in that. I just realised that perhaps they have the easier job in some sense because they can afford to be idealistic. After all, when you’re not the ones in power, it’s easy to tell people how things should be going. I just wonder what it would be like if the tables were turned. Of course, it’s precisely that kind of optimistic idealism that a party needs to be kept in check. I don’t suppose it will really make a difference to the elections. But it’s nice to know that some people haven’t lost their vim.
And finally, there’s a possbility of an interesting little holiday coming up, if all that’s in the works goes well. All fingers crossed!
He's kind of small in the scheme of things...
Even though he can be too big for his boots
Sometimes, he’s caught red… uh… pawed while making mayhem in my closet
He likes to chill out too
Meet Chip, my Jack Russell Terrier who’s just turned eight, going on two. Our love story is one that stretches many years, many biting incidences and many many laughs and tears. I love most animals in the world (short of cockroaches, which are more like six legged aliens than anything) but dogs hold a special place in my heart.
I do, however, as in most aspects of my life, have weird taste. M and I have a running difference about this because she seems to prefer dogs who are handsome, well-behaved and have a certain pedigree bearing about them. It’s not that I don’t. I love dogs with long luxuriant fur, good manners and handsome, well-bred faces as much as the next guy.
But in my heart, I also have a huge soft spot for dogs that are not quite perfect. The dogs with lopsided ears and short, rough fur, bright, naughty eyes and pseudo cowboys names like Max, Hunter, Ranger and Bandana. In other words, the mutts. The dogs that don’t really have a pedigree to call their own, but instead, own an indescribable charm that is part playfulness, part spunk. Maybe it’s because I’m a mutt myself, without pure bloodlines or perfect breeding.
My own dog was the runt of his litter and has a funny bowlegged, pointy eared appearance that isn’t really befitting of a prize terrier. My family wanted the other puppies in the cage, the ones who sat upright and looked picture perfect with their floppy eared insousiance, right out of the owner’s manual. I went for the muttly looking dog who bounded to the cage to lick me in greeting and who was so much smaller than the other dogs that people sometimes compared him to a cat.
Two days ago, he turned eight and I’ve never regretted bringing him home. He remains a happy, healthy dog who still behaves like a puppy and maintains the boisterous curiousity of his younger days. I only hope that he’ll continue to lie at the foot of my bed and nudge me awake with his cold, wet nose for a few more years.
And that he’ll stay the heck out of my closet.
==========
In other news, I spent a large part of my Saturday evening ankle deep in mud at a Worker’s Party Rally. Me, the PAP supporter of the century! At the end of the two hours, I looked like I had just stepped off the slow boat. It was actually a lot of fun though, and I thought, a great insight into the way that these rallies actually worked in reality.
The workers party speakers weren’t really native to the English language and so things got pretty amusing. One memorable gaffe:
When one Worker’s Party Member commented that the PAP was making a “molehill out of a mountain”. The public looked vaguely confused for a second. I’ve been told that it came out in the right order in the newspapers, but trust me, I was there! Journalistic integrity, my ass.
Jokes aside, I thought they did a commendable job of making themselves heard despite the fact that they didn’t say anything revolutionary or really stirring. They did, however, promise an awful lot, including that they would speak up courageously in parliament and that they would commit to the real needs of their people.
That’s when it struck me, that really, the opposition promises a lot of things. And there’s nothing wrong in that. I just realised that perhaps they have the easier job in some sense because they can afford to be idealistic. After all, when you’re not the ones in power, it’s easy to tell people how things should be going. I just wonder what it would be like if the tables were turned. Of course, it’s precisely that kind of optimistic idealism that a party needs to be kept in check. I don’t suppose it will really make a difference to the elections. But it’s nice to know that some people haven’t lost their vim.
And finally, there’s a possbility of an interesting little holiday coming up, if all that’s in the works goes well. All fingers crossed!
She said, she said at 10:29 pm
4 Comments:
I want a dog!!!! And I like mutts too! Loads and loads! Maybe that's why I love you too *sticks out tongue*
Oh and the upcoming elections sounds like a whole load of fun. Now if only I was there to watch (note: no voting!).
You can't vote either? Heh heh... that's a pity! Hope you're enjoying your progress package anyway!
And as for me being a mutt, it's one of the best things to be okay! Mutts come out better looking that pure breds... or at least more spotty lah :P
Mutts are cute... and I don't really see them as mutts!
I miss Chip! And and all those times when he stole my socks!
It's funny how imperfection is so.. perfect!
Just like you! :P
He still steals socks now, and overturns dustbins!
And I wish I could say I was imperfect, but *sigh* what can I say? God really knew what he was doing when he made me... :P (AHAHA!)
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