Archive | January, 2012

Baby Feet

28 Jan



My sister has a foot phobia. I don’t mean like a slight aversion to feet. I mean that she is actually afraid of them and actively avoids them in all situations. She wears socks…all the time. I went to the movies with her the other day (it’s the middle of summer) and she quickly threw off her thongs & proceeded to put on some socks. I’ve asked her why she hates them so much…she says she can’t explain, but the sight of feet make her feel sick.


What she hates even more is when people have to touch her feet. She avoided getting new sneakers for months as she didn’t want to have to try new ones. When forced to get a pedicure for my cousins wedding, she sat there mute and turned a pale colour.


Her phobia, provides great ammunition & black mail. Numerous times, I have just put my feet on her when I want the channel on the tv changed. It works every time.


I do not have the same foot phobia. Meeting my baby cousin for the first time, last week….I was immediately infatuated with his tiny feet. Baby feet are just adorable. Something about the tiny toes and podgy sole. Honestly, I just wanted to eat them, they were so cute (not in a literal sense!). The way the toes curled & arched when he was excited..


Anyways, just thought I’d share these pics…





Every man and his….(sausage) dog

3 Jan


My boyfriend’s dad (Uncle J) bought 2 sausage dog puppies last year. After much discussion (my suggestion of Frankfurt or Bratwurst were apparently not appropriate)…they were named Ringo & Star.  Uncle J loves them. No…like, he loves, loves, loves them. He cuts up their broccoli with scissors every night for dinner. Hires me often as the ‘dog-sitter’ whilst he attends dinner parties. And uses a ‘very special’ high-pitched voice to speak to them (ok fine – I am guilty of that too, if you are a dog owners you know the ‘special voice’ you put on to speak to your  doggy – it is usually extremely high pitched and very akward if someone hears you…my ‘dog-voice’ even has a slight Indian influence integrated into it- don’t ask me why!). Don’t get me wrong, I have two beautiful dogs (Mojo & Perry) & treat them as my brothers (from another mother). However, Uncle J’s love for his two puppies is actually amazing. I have never quite seen anything like it.

Last weekend, he specially requested that I attend a ‘festival’ at Bicentennial park with the family. The details surrounding this ‘festival’ remained ambiguous. Secretly, I was hoping it involved some sort of wine and cheese. No, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Uncle J said he would be at my door to pick me up at 8am…on a Sunday. Given that he insisted that I attend this ‘festival’. I accepted the invite. Upon getting into the car, I saw… Ringo & Star in the backseat…with Uncle J. I was adamant that he take the front seat, but he refused. Instead he lovingly stroked the dogs & fed them out of a special bottle.

Upon my arrival at the Bi-centennial park, I looked out the window to find myself at the annual “Daschund festival”. It was 8am. On a Sunday. I was not mentally, emotionally ready for this. Don’t get me wrong, Ringo & Star are adorable…but sausage dogs on the whole, scare me just a little. Maybe its their disproportioned bodies or their long snouts.

But, I kid you not…there were sausage dogs everywhere. Big ones, small ones, long-haired, tan, brown, fat, skinny….I am not going to lie; I was totally freaked out. Majority of the dogs were dressed up – some as as ballerina’s others as bondi surf lifesavers, quite a few as live ‘hot dogs’. I don’t know what freaked me out more – the hundreds of sausage dogs…or their owners. T-shirts with “Look at my Weiner” & “Sex, Drugs & (Sausage) Rolls” were not uncommon. There were running races (let’s admit daschunds are not the most athletic of dogs – I had to hold back my laughter) & prizes for ‘tricks’ (the winner; a sausage dog that held a position like a status for 3 mins…actually quite impressive…but still…weird).

Given it was 8am on a Sunday, Jai & I phantomed out of the daschund ‘funtivities’ for an hour to get some breakfast. When we came back, there were even more dogs.

To me it was bizarre, but to other’s it was just a regular Sunday in the world of a Daschund owner. I guess at the end of the day, a dog essentially like a child…no matter how ‘special looking’ it is – if it is your own, you love it & think it is the best!