Farewell Princess Malli

In November, 2002, I'd just finished my University Degrees, moved out of home and was about to start my first full-time job. I was 22, I had the world at my feet and I knew everything.

One day I went to the shopping centre to buy myself a bed, but instead, I came home with a puppy. I'd wandered through the pet shop and fallen instantly in love with her. She was half malamute, half Rottweiler and she was only 8 weeks old. The staff at the shop, called her 'The Malli' and the name kinda stuck. I walked out of the shop beaming and cuddling her in my arms. It was the stupidest, most impulsive decision I've probably ever made but one, I've never regretted.





I learnt pretty quickly that Malamutes are....well....kinda totally nuts. Malli destroyed everything, she pooped on everything and she jumped on everyone. In less than a week, my new housemates asked us both to leave.

We moved into our first proper rental home, me, Malli and the new(ish) boyfriend. It was the perfect house for an ever-growing, kinda psycho large breed dog.....a 2 bedroom townhouse with a small courtyard.

To make up for the shitty lack of space, I took Malli everywhere and when I had to leave her at home she was allowed to roam the entire house. Her favourite place of all was our balcony. She loved socializing with the people walking past, she'd drag various bits of 'treasure' outside and drop it down to them as gifts (stuffed toys= ok, giant bones= kinda scary, a vibrator= um?)

The even bigger mistake though, was moving in with new(ish) boyfriend, who quickly revealed himself to be a big(ish) dickhead. I don't know how many times Malli and I huddled up together in the bedroom, waiting for him to finish destroying the house. It was one of the lowest points of my life & it would take me over 2 years to find the courage to leave.

Those would be the only times in the early days, when that giant, fluffy psycho dog would sit calmly. I'd cry, feeling like the loneliest person on earth and she'd put her big fluffy head on my lap. I don't know how many times I nuzzled into that fur and howled. She was the only one who knew how miserable life really was.

I don't think anyone could ever quite figure out why I put up with Malli. Her sense of adventure was a constant (and expensive) headache. She went through a stage where she escaped so many times, the pound had me on speed dial. A few times, she barged open neighbors doors and joined them at their dinner table. She jumped in a neighbors pool, she 'played' with another neighbors guinea pig and almost caused a few car accidents. She was a terror but she was my terror.

I went to Sydney one weekend and my housemate made a batch of hash cookies. They were reportedly so strong that one cookie rendered them too stoned to notice Malli polishing off the rest of the tray. Malli spent a night in ICU and had the munchies for a week (I was not impressed).


Over the last month, we have been backwards and forth from the Vet because Malli had something up her nose. The diagnosis changed so many times from (1) innocuous grass seed, and (2) Cancer. She had a few minor surgeries, and after one, she deteriorated rapidly. Last Friday, she stared at me with an expression that I'd never seen from her before. She was telling me that it was almost time to say goodbye. At that moment, I knew I didn't need a second opinion.

My last duty to her was to make sure that she didn't suffer and abandon my selfish need to save her life at all costs. So last Sunday, I said goodbye to my crazy, lovable furball. The last thing she did was lay her head in my arms and close her eyes. For one last time, I nuzzled into her big fluffy head and when she closed her eyes, I cried.

Rest in Peace my Malli Princess.
Thank you for being there when no one else could. You are gone but you will never be forgotten.





Malli
2002-2012

This one's for the Daddies

I feel like taking a break from the usual blogging stuff, to do a random parenting post. I've written about the first few weeks of parenthood before (*if I knew how, I'd insert link here______*) but this one is especially for the first time daddies. Enjoy.

- be extremely careful about the jokes you make to the mummy. They may seem funny to you and under usual circumstances, the mummy might find them funny BUT.....we're exhausted, our 'bits' hurt (or Caesar wounds), it hurts when we poo and we're leaking fluid from every orifice. The hormones we had when we were pregnant have gone and they've been replaced by new, highly anxious and obsessional ones. When the baby cries, it makes us unbearably anxious and we are powerless against it. When the baby isn't crying, we're anxious about the next time the baby starts crying. We can't help it, it's what our bodies were programmed to do & we will calm down. As a general rule, "when in doubt, don't say it". Now let's see if you're still paying attention. Boobies.

- If you're like the majority of blokes, you won't have read a single parenting book during the pregnancy (skimming through it doesn't count). If this is the case, then please, "Shut the f*ck up". We aren't experts but we've probably educated ourselves a bit more on the topic then you have. We have the final say and you must go along with it. End of story. Are you still reading or are you skimming? Tittie fart.

- It is highly unlikely that we want to hear your mothers opinion, so don't share it. It may be gospel to you but it isn't for us. Nor do we give a shit about "Jason from works missus" or some parenting story you saw on TV. If you notice this one, then you must be actually paying attention. Giant norgs. Furthermore, if you want to continue breathing, never ever compare us to another mother, unless you're saying we are better.

- 'doing nothing time' no longer exists. We appreciate that it'd be really nice to come home from your place of employment and pop your feet up in front of the TV. That was in the good ol' days before baby, not now. You see, we've also been working all day, we don't often get a break and we are probably covered in baby puke. It's unlikely that we've showered, eaten or pooed. We're emotionally drained, our bodies hurt and we're deprived of sleep. We resent you, for spending the day away and having simple luxuries like an uninterrupted lunch, even though we don't wanna trade places. If you're still reading this, I'm impressed. Doodle doodle ball bag.

- Sex. We don't want it right now, it's the furthest thing from our minds. Imagine that a tiny balloon was inserted in the tip of your penis. Imagining it? Good. Now imagine this balloon being inflated to the size of our baby and tearing your penis to shreads. Ooh. That sounds nice doesn't it? You'd be scared to pee now wouldn't you?* You will have sex again and you won't die in the meantime. Instead, you can stroke our hair, rub our necks and tell us we're awesome. It'll improve your chances of getting laid later down the track.
*you'll want to argue this point by saying that we don't give birth through our peehole-correct. But our cervix is roughly the same size as a matchstick and look what comes out of it. If you still want to argue, shut up.

I could probably keep going on this topic forever. But given that you've probably been forced to read this and you have an important Playstation game to get back to, I'll stop. Just remember "this too shall pass". Life will get easier, you will get laid again and we will get saner. We just need a little TLC and help from you.

Penis.

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Dr Hamish and Dr Meredith

This is Doctor Hamish-





My sister Kylie bought him for Max, the morning after his stroke. We named him after the ICU Registrar who cared for Max that day. Out of the zillion toys Max has, for me, Dr Hamish is the most precious. He was the first toy Max had on the cot he would call home, for the next 6 weeks.

It was the 3rd of June, 2011. That afternoon Max had his first EEG and his first MRI scan. The plan was, that after he had the MRI, they would start reducing his sedation and 'wake him up'. They were hopeful he would start breathing alone, so they could take him off life support.

I didn't go with Max to the MRI. He was escorted by about 8 doctors/nurses already and heavily sedated, so I took the chance to grab some time alone.

I spent most of that time perusing the gift shop at the hospital. I wanted to find the perfect toy to hang on the other side of his cot. I wanted him to have something nice to look at when he woke up. I don't know how, but my mind was blank and racing, all at the same time (is that even possible??)

After half an hour or so of staring blankly at toys, I bought him this-





I named it Dr Meredith after the ICU Consultant. Dr Meredith was the doctor who had the job of telling us, our son had suffered a massive brain hemorrhage and probably had leukemia (thankfully he didn't). I'll always be grateful for her genuine compassion in delivering such shitful news. (Though, I have no idea why I chose a toy hippo when Dr Meredith was slim. Oops)

When Dr Meredith and I got back to ICU, we were met by another Dr with a hauntingly serious expression. Time was so critical, he didn't even take me to the 'bad news' room with couches and tissues. Brain damage, constant seizures, brain dangerously swelling, inducing a coma now. I clutched Dr Meredith, with a fear far greater than anything I'd ever felt before. Inside, I was howling hysterically, outwardly, I was paralyzed and emotionless.

Earlier this week, Max and I were at the brand new children's hospital. We had a bit of time to kill, so we checked out the new gift shop. There was a whole wall of Dr Meredith and Dr Hamish toys. Just one look at those toys and I remembered 'that' day with such ferocity, I burst into tears. Right there, in the middle of the gift shop, I sobbed and not a single happy thought could stop it.

On June the 3rd, 2011, I faced the very real possibility that my son would never wake up again. I will never forget how lucky I am that he did.





I love you Max xxx

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Max turns one!

Max has finally hit the big 1. We made it and here are some pics to prove it!




A bath before his party to wash the weet bix out of his ears, lol.




His amazing cake, donated by the gorgeous Mel at 'La-De-Da Cakes'.




Opening some presents with Aunty Tara




We also celebrated my grand-fathers 90th birthday. Max junior is comparing hair with Max Senior in this one!



The best shot I managed to get of Max with his cake.




The morning of his actual birthday, riding his very first bike.





Birthday breakfast at Nan and Pa's house.



Hanging with the Meetcats at Werribee Zoo.








Riding on the safari bus!




Fast asleep after a huge day!

Thank you to my wonderful family for organizing Max's party. Once again, I can't find the words to fully express my gratitude. It was an amazing day.

The best part of Max's birthday was holding him in my arms at 734pm, the exact time he was born. He was fast asleep & it was a perfect moment in time that I'll always treasure. Thank you Max for giving me the happiest year of my life xxx


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