Skip to main content

Things that go woof in the night. And why 174 is an amazing number.

Insomnia. We are all familiar with its after effects - that head-full-of-fog feeling; the fuzzy ringing in your ears and eyes puffily reminiscent of a myxematous rabbit; an all-body sensation of heaviness and of wading through treacle; a mouth that is disconnected from the brain; and a craving for caffeine and sugar, plus a cold shower, or snow settling on the face ... or pain - in fact, anything that might jolt you back into wakefulness.

Wakefulness - a state of untrammelled alertness that exists only in the world of the childless, temporarily childless, empty nesters ... and those who don't share their home with Bertie Baggins.

While I lay claim to the world's only fail-safe method for dealing comprehensively with sleepless nights in children - stop worrying about it (you'll miss those midnight sleepy cuddles one day and in sixteen years' time you'll be grateful just to know where your child is at 2am!") and simply wait for them to grow up - I profess that I am at a loss over what to do with a sleep-disturbing dog.

The internet is full of ideas -

  • have a good routine, particularly for meal-times 
  • consider diabetes ... well, I have and he's not thirsty, isn't peeing more than usual and his weight is stable, so if the symptoms of diabetes in dogs are the same as in humans, I don't think that's his problem
  • could he be anxious? ... What about?! He's a dog. He probably does worry about where his next meal is coming from and more urgently when, but even if he is worrying about something, am I ever likely to discover what it is? He's not going to tell me. Is he? 
  • might he have arthritis? - apparently this is a 'common cause of insomnia' in older dogs (... I may not tell the big boss about this prospect just yet!) but it can be managed with heat pads. Well, just in case, I have anticipated this early and given Bertie Baggins his very own heat pad ... his uncle. They have shared a crate for the past week, which resulted in silence for the first two nights, then the insomnia resurfaced and we were back to the old 4a.m. routine. To gauge how I look at that time in the morning, I just have to glance at Four-legged-friend - the effort of lifting his head off the ground, as he strains to open his eyes screams "Really!? He's woken me again!?"
  • or might Bertie Baggins be so pumped full of adolescent energy and so un-exausted by his (sometime-) daily saunter with Four-legged-friend and I, that his neurones all start to spark in the middle of the night and he has to jump around, bark and go out to run off some energy. Thus, I resolve that before I take him to the vet to beg for sleeping pills, I shall daily drain the energy out of him.

So we went for a walk today


Butter wouldn't melt!

He ran, skipped, chased rabbits, disappeared through a hedge, splashed around in muddy puddles, fetched bits of apple thrown for him and tried valiantly to persuade Four-legged-friend to chase him. We marvelled at his energy and walked slowly on.


And, on the subject of walking, remember my entry from last week?

walking-wondering-and-not-walking-at-all

and its reference to this?

orianaproject.wordpress.com


If you were wondering why '174 is an amazing number' (see title), that is because it is the number of wheelchairs delivered by this wonderful project. Which makes it a fab number! Utterly brilliant! And for their next project ... they want to build a school. Humbling, isn't it? Something to ponder in the wee small hours. ...


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Colour, Delacroix, flochetage and why don't we all have a go at inventing words

Yes - it is a real word. Flochetage. Well, a real-ish word. One invented by the painter Delacroix, when he found the dictionary cupboard bare and required a word to describe his technique of layering different coloured paints, using lightly pulled brush strokes to create texture and pattern and thereby enhance his base-layer colours (... lost? - stick around, read on and all will become clear. Or perhaps muddier ...). Flochetage implies both stringiness and threadiness. Apparently. And it sounds good - in a filling-the-mouth-with-sound sort of a way. Try it ... flochetaaaage. Not that I speak French. So I am probably mis-pronouncing it. Nor am I an artist. So what do I know about painting techniques - except that I think this one works. What I do like is the concept - you invent a new technique in whatever it is you do, hunt around for the vocabulary to describe it, find the dictionary is lacking, so make up a word of your own and announce to the world what it means. Delacroix isn...

Holiday cake and old friends

Chocolate cake. Most of us who bake probably have a favourite chocolate cake recipe - the one that always works; that forgives being made in a rush or once without eggs (added to the cake tin five minutes after it was initially placed in the oven ... even I didn't think I'd get away with that one); that tolerates the fickle heat of different ovens and different tins and without fail, at first sniff of it baking, brings back delicious memories of old friends and old holidays. And picnics and sand between toes and laughter and blustery walks and holding hands and eating too much and wind in your hair and squinting in the sun and dancing in the rain and dragonflies hitching a ride and castles and hill-tops and freezing cold lochs and a long walk with a black and white cat. This is my favourite chocolate cake recipe. Written by the dearest of old friends, on this scrap of paper, over twenty years ago. (Annotated by he who should have known better and me. He was right abo...

Life as bramble thicket

Life passing in a fairly content fog of gift wrapping (mild panic - omg, have I got enough for everyone; will they like it; have I got the right bridge pads for mother-in-law?); cooking (friends all being extremely helpful with offers of puddings, mains and starters - apart from the big event, may not have to actually cook much at all); decorating (post fire, post building work); planning of meals with friends; entertaining (music recitals already being rehearsed by Littlest and sister); feeding the dog; ordering startlingly expensive turkey; walking the dog; feeding hungry mouths (eating me out of house and home - realise just how significant a role the school catering staff play in their lives); gardening with dog; and shopping (again ...), when unexpectedly hit by devastating question of what mark if any will I leave on the planet (assuming that I want to leave a mark, which I think I do, because there has to be more to life than working hard, otherwise what is the point of anything...