There's a pooch in my shower!

If you’ve been reading the Kitchen Philosopher column for a while you may recall me mentioning that, due to a lack of kitchen/laundry facilities while renovating our house, I was at one stage forced to wash the dishes (and everything else) in the shower. But who would have thought that a few years down the track I’d be at it again? In this case, washing the dog.

Now don’t get me wrong. I am not one of those truly doggie people who think their dogs are actually furry humans with stinky breath. Nor that they should be allowed to eat from your plate, sleep in your bed and lick your face if they want.

No, I have not quite succumbed to the Seduction of Scruffy Dawg, my mini-schnauzer, although I do admit to teetering dangerously close at times. (Okay, I did find myself lying on the floor the other night snuggling with him …. just because he looked soooooo cute and I couldn’t resist. But I still don’t think that qualifies me as a full-blown nutty dog-person….does it?)

Anyhoo, suffice to say that, on this ‘showering’ occasion, I didn’t have too many options. Outside the weather was cold and miserable, so Scruffy (with full support from his….um…mum) shunned the idea of outside ‘bathies’. The laundry trough had proven, on the last frustrating occasion, to be of inadequate proportions for effective wrangling of wet, squirming dogs. And so I was left with no other choice than to resort to the hand-held shower in the bathroom.

This proved to be more difficult than I imagined. Holding a slippery, wriggling mutt in one hand, while hosing him with the other, while soaping him with the other….um…wait a minute….I think you already see my dilemma! Well, let’s just say it aint easy. Especially when the Scruffy Dawg is not the most willing of participants.

Eventually, but not before soaking myself and pretty much the entire bathroom in the process, the ordeal was over and Scruffy and I were locked in a vice-like embrace as I attempted to dry him with a towel. This lasted approximately seven seconds before he escaped and shook himself vigorously, doing laps of the bathroom as he shook (to ensure maximum wall-spray coverage, you understand).

After a moderately successful second attempt with the towel we moved to phase two of the drying process — the ‘crazy-dog dash’ around the house. Phase three entailed trapping the canine world’s answer to Ricochet Rabbit and holding him in a headlock while trying (fairly unsuccessfully) to blow-dry him with the hair-dryer. I would guess Scruffy’s enjoyment levels at this stage were on a par with us humans having a tooth filled but, to his credit, he managed to stay still for a few seconds and I succeeded in drying the hair on his bum, if nothing else.

But it’s been worth all the effort. He looks and smells great! And as they say “Cleanliness is next to Godliness”.

Or was that “Dogliness”? I guess it all depends on how much of a nutty dog-worshipper you are. (Note* If you’re dog’s name is Zeus, Apollo or Yahweh, you’re probably a sad case).

A Font of Wisdom

As a prolific email writer I’ve often thought it would be a great idea if we could have fonts that truly reflect our frame of mind and the preferred voice inflection of our processed words.

This could, after all, help prevent many misunderstandings around the tone of our emails.

For example, a couple of days ago I sent what I thought was a reasonably ‘friendly’ email inquiring as to whether the feedback I had provided to a colleague was to be included in the resultant document (as it appeared to NOT have been).

A subsequent telephone conversation with the colleague revealed that she had thought I was ‘miffed’ due to a perceived somewhat ‘snippy’ inflection to my email. I assured her this was not the case at all, but that I had been trying to sound casual, friendly and non-snippy. Clearly it hadn’t worked.

Therefore I believe we need a few new fonts so that our feelings on any given matter can be truly reflected in the written word.

For example, when we are feeling a bit out of sorts we could use “Cranky” font. When sad we could use “Sooky La La” font. “Mildly Disgruntled” font would be one I would use fairly regularly to convey my displeasure and “Snitchy” font could be very handy for those moments when only a catty voice will do. Personally I also wouldn’t mind a “Don’t Even THINK About It Buddy” font for those days of the month when it’s really not wise to cross me.

“Sarky” font would ensure that the subtle nuances of sarcasm are not lost and “Totally Cats Bum” font would be reserved for those moments when ‘one is not amused’.

“Smarmy” font would be useful for gloating and “Grovel” font would come in handy when you have a little sucking up to do. I must admit that a “Frankly I Can’t Be Bothered” font might get a work out on my computer — particularly on Friday afternoons — as would my “Tell Someone Who Cares” font.

The “I Can’t Believe I Have to Spell This Out to You, You Moron” font would carry me through the moments of exasperation while the “I Think This Is Hysterical, So Make Sure You Laugh Too” font would ensure my jokes are fully appreciated. The ‘I’m Only Sending You This Email Because They Said Something Good Would Happen to Me if I Sent it To at Least 8 People” font would save a lot of explaining as to why I have forwarded the Tibetan Prayer of Universal Love and Kisses to six million of my closest friends.

I’m sure there are many more potential fonts just waiting to be invented and I believe there is certainly a market for these in offices all around the world.

After all, at present it’s nigh impossible to accurately decipher if the email sender is actually being snippy or was just too busy scoffing down chocolates and talking on the phone to take proper notice of what he or she was typing. The new fonts would clarify the mental state of the typist and save valuable time in coming up with a suitably matched font for the reply.

In fact, I reckon this invention has really got legs. It’s so good I intend to contact Microsoft personally. I think I will use one of my latest ideas:

“OY! HOWSABOUT MAKING SOME NEW SHOUTY FONTS?”

I reckon they’ll get that, don’t you?

Is Master Chef making Us Fat?

The other day I read something which really took my attention. I pathetically admit I was once again reading a weight loss book. This one was written by none other than that straight-shootin’, tough lovin’ Dr Phil. Yes, he of scary U.S. daytime television where ‘regular’ people expose their deepest, darkest souls to the scrutiny -- and often ridicule -- of the studio audience and a few million viewers worldwide. As you do if you want to keep your affairs private and maintain some measure of dignity.

Anyway, the good doctor has written a very detailed and sensible book, if I may say so, on the ‘ultimate’ way to lose weight. Essentially he says we need to take responsibility for our eating habits and get our heads together before we can possibly lose weight. Nothing so surprising there, really.

What was surprising is that Dr Phil claims scientists now believe that when we look longingly at food (drooling over a cream cake for example) our bodies begin to release insulin which accelerates the uptake of fat into our cells for storage. Meaning of course, that we might very well be gaining weight without even eating a bite! Yikes!

I started thinking about the possible implications of this in the context of our current national love affair with all things gastronomic. Specifically, I was thinking about the incredibly high-rating TV show ‘Master Chef’.

Apparently, in its last season, over two million viewers were tuning into every episode of the show. Therefore, on the basis of the aforementioned science, that would mean every time they looked lovingly at the food being cooked on the show, these same two million viewers were exposing themselves to insulin release and possible fat uptake. That’s a lot of flab!

Taking this idea a little further, think about all the people who wander around bakeries and delicatessens; greedily eyeing off the various delicious-looking treats on offer. Surely, they too, are in the firing line for a little insulin mischief, are they not?

And then there is advertising. Every second ad on television is promoting food – often fatty, salty, sugary fast-food portrayed as mouth-wateringly as possible. While we dieters sit despondently on the couch nibbling on cardboard crackers and lusting silently over the Big Mac with fries sizzling tantalisingly on the screen (and congratulating ourselves on our fabulous willpower) could it be that are our dastardly hormones are busily whipping up a little fat-storing frenzy?

And what about all the kids who watch these ads? Do their bodies produce insulin in the same way as adult bodies supposedly do? Are we inadvertently fattening up our kids by letting them even just view tempting food?

It really does make you wonder. I mean, we all know that obesity is becoming a serious problem amongst kids today. You only need visit a fast food joint near you to see whole kilos of garbage being inhaled by pudgy-faced kids. Couple this with our more sedentary lifestyles and it’s probably not surprising that we are raising a nation of fatties.

But, thanks to Dr Phil and his terrifying little revelation, I now wonder if it’s the whole story? Maybe it’s not just ‘a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips’ but also ‘a moment in your eye and the scales go sky-high!’

Well, anyway, I’m taking no chances. Next time I watch Master Chef, I will be covering my eyes.

After all, I have enough problems with real, live, in-my-mouth food expanding my girth without having sneaky insulin hormones hijacking me from the side-lines as well!

It's A Dog's Life for Me

I’ve decided that if I ever get reincarnated, I’m coming back as a dog. Preferably a dog owned by me (to ensure maximum comfort, that is).

Dogs are so uncomplicated. They eat, sleep, play, poo and sniff. That’s about it.

They are excited by everything. No matter how many times you walk them around the same block, it’s like the maiden voyage. Every lamppost, pile of leaves and tussock of grass is intriguing and beguiling. They sniff like it’s the first time they’ve ever smelt the ‘eau de urine’ of some previous canine visitor or the waft of rabbit near the showground sheds. It’s all so fascinating!

My dogs wallow like furry hippos in every available puddle, roll in dead fish on the river bank (if given half a chance) and greet everyone they meet with slobbering, wet-pawed enthusiasm. They don’t always get that not everyone wants to be jumped on by a soggy, shaggy mutt; in fact, it never enters their heads. Why would it when they have been led to believe that they are the Supreme Four Pawed Masters of the Universe? (or at least the portion of the universe that extends for a few kilometres either side of their Utopian Doggy Palace -- aka my place).

They are always happy to see you; even if you smell, look like death or are having a really bad hair day. They don’t care if you’re happy, sad, furious, depressed, sane, crazy or drunk. As long as you have one hand that’s capable of scratching their belly while the other locates the dog treats in the pantry, all is right in their world.

The simple joy of gnawing a bone cannot be understated, according to dogs. There is nothing quite like a half-rotten chunk of animal carcass to lift one’s doggy spirits. Better still if it’s been buried for a few 40 degree days in the back yard; thus maximising its gross-o-nomic rating. Ah, the uncomplicated joy!

And what pooch in his right mind wouldn’t turn himself inside out for the opportunity to suck on a pig’s ear for half an hour? Not too many of the ones I know, that’s for sure! And yes, at my place pigs ears are a regular treat. Not to mention liver ‘treaties’, bone biscuits, Schmacko strips and the occasional doggie carob bar.

The downside of such indulgence may well be the future pancreatic misfortune of my hairy kids, so I am trying to keep the fatty stuff to a minimum – but it’s soooo hard! Especially when they look at you appealingly through their fluffy white (Lloyd Bridges) eyebrows or hoist themselves insistently at the back window in an attempt to gain your attention. What’s a smitten doggie owner to do?

Okay, okay, I shouldn’t be such a sucker. I know this is how bad habits are formed, but at least I do make them ‘sit’ before they get their treaties, so I’m not a total pushover, am I?

Oh, and by the way, it’s just not true that they ate a whole couch at the boarding kennels last time they visited. That was a vicious lie. Just because the same thing has been happening to their beds here at home, doesn’t mean there’s any link……

Well anyway, life’s good when you’re a dog. No responsibilities. No bills to pay, dishes to wash, lawns to mow, meals to cook or work to go to. Not a care in the world. Other than perhaps, when you might be getting your next ‘walkies’. And I’m sure mine don’t ever really worry about that either. If they really want a walk they just go nutzoid around the loungeroom for a few minutes and start chomping on the couch. We soon get the message. And they say animals can’t talk!

So, next time around, it’s definitely a dog’s life for me.

Just hold off on the pigs ears okay? For some reason, gnawing on the aural appendage of a dead swine just doesn’t seem to do it for me.

But, then again, I’m not a dog. Yet.