No, don't thank me.... no, really...( an essay/rant)

Sometimes I just don't get it. People, I mean. You think you've got them sorted out in your mind, you inderstand where they're coming from, and wham! - they leave you guessing again.

For the last few years (nearly 3, in fact) we've been looking after a couple of dogs for a friend. Well, she was the friend of a friend actually. She'd decided to accept a job in beautiful downtown Dubai, where the air is hot, the women are covered up, and you can (reputedly) make a great deal of money compared to here. So, I don't blame anyone who is capable of taking such a position from wanting to get on in life.

Anyway, this "friend" had a couple of dogs, (her "babies" she called them) and not much else to stop her from having a go at a Dubai stint. One thing led to another and we suddenly had two small dogs to look after, supposedly for 6 months.  No biggie.

Of course, that was until (not long after she'd gone) we got the email to say she'd accepted a longer contract and would probably be back in a year, maybe. (did I mention that she left the country (& her "babies") without offering to pay for any of their costs? we eventually asked for and received a regular payment of $25 per week to defray the fur-ball's costs - considering most kennels charge that much PER DAY PER DOG, I reckon she was doing OK.)

So, I'd pretty much resigned myself to the fact that we were now the "owners" of these mutts; certainly the dog pound to which they were taken every time they houdini'd their way out of our backyard and which smilingly charged me $65 "bail" to release them thought of me as their owner.

Suddenly, mid last year, we got a message that she was coming home, her contract was not being renewed. "She couldn't wait to get back to her "babies", she missed them so much!" (oh puhhlease)

And, on Christmas Eve, good to her promise, she arrived to collect them. She seemed surprised that the dogs didn't leap into her arms in recognition, but I put that down to the relatively small brains which small dogs have (logical really) and that their memories were too full of important things like, "how to get out of backyards","when to eat" and "when to bark for food (yep, 4am)".

We said our (no so tearful) goodbyes and I was happy to call it quits at that point.  Until last week.

Out of the blue, I got a phone call from the dog pound, with a polite lady telling me that one of the dogs had been found by an very caring person on the other side of town, and could I ring her to arrange to collect him? I had to convince her that despite my regular attendance at her facility to retreive said mutt, I was not in fact his owner, that she was back from OS, and I would be happy to put them in touch. (oh & could I be taken off their database please?)

So, I rang the lady who had found the dog, thanked her for her kindness, and assured her I'd get the real owner to contact her ASAP. I then spent the next HOUR trying to track the recently-returned-from-Dubai-owner down, leaving 2 voice messages for her to call me back. Eventually I sent her a text SMS with the phone number of the rescuer and hoped the message was getting through somehow.

Without any responses at all, I called the good samaritan who found the dog to update her, whereupon she told me that the owner had just left her place with the dog, thanks very much.

I'm writing this a week later & I still haven't heard from the owner.

Like I said, sometimes I just don't get it. Maybe I should get another dog - they're easier to understand.

Naked Christmas

The week of Christmas started well enough. I got involved with a great group of people to help put together a community carols event in the outdoors. It was a beautiful fine night and hundreds of folks from the local area came out to sit on their blankets and sing Christmas Carols and generally get in the mood for Christmas. The whole thing had a warm, caring feel about it.

A couple of days later, I went out and sang some more Carols in a few local houses for shut-in elderly people and some folks with disabilities. I played notes on my guitar which I'm pretty sure have never been played  in those songs before, in keys which were sometimes not suitable for a diverse group of singers (of mixed ability!) but our audiences seemed to really enjoy it. One of them celebrated our performance by taking all his clothes off! I can honestly say that its the first time anybody reacted to my musical efforts in such a way, let alone the new slant it gave me on "Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer". Later on, it made me think about what goes through my head when I listen to music - try it sometime, its a hard question to answer, I reckon.

A few days after that, Christmas was upon us. Things started quietly enough, cos our kids are not so excited about ripping wrapping paper off gifts as they once were. Then of course, we needed to get to church, and that, as usual, resulted in raised voices, tension, and the inevitable 4/5 of the family sitting in the driveway idling the car while we waited for the last 1/5 to be ready. I was somewhat surprised then, that we actually managed to be early as we pulled into the street where our local church sits.

I was also surprised when a car raced out of the shopping centre across our path, nearly causing an accident with another car coming in the opposite direction. I was then REALLY surprised by the appearance of a completely naked woman who also crossed our path and started running down the street. Christmas Day obviously means different things to different people, but till now I wasn't familiar with the tradition which involves running through your suburb with no clothes on. Clearly something was not right, and my wife and I got out of our car and gave chase, to see if we could offer some help.

The woman was quite dis-oriented, distressed and confused. My wife was able to convince her to sit down in a bus shelter and (eventually) put on the shirt which the guy in the other car had thrown out his window. (still don't know what his connection to this really is...). I rang the police and eventually a couple of female PCs and paramedics arrived to help out. This poor woman, maybe in her 30s, was so confused, it took sometime to even get her name, but slowly she was able to provide information for the police to check their records to start piecing together her story.

When it was clear that she was now safe, and I'd provided a detailed statement to the police, we left to go back to church. It turns out she'd been reported as a missing person FOUR days prior. Where had she been? What had happened to her in the meantime? We may never know.

Singing Christmas Carols in church that morning was more lilke an out of body experience - the events of the previous hour or so seemed quite surreal.

At lunchtime on Christmas day, for the second year in a row, we got involved with a large charity organization which provides a community meal for disadvantaged folks in the inner city. A mate of mine introduced us to the idea last year, and we found it to be a strangely liberating experience. Not concerned by "whose place will we have Christmas at?" this opportunity is a truly pleasurable bit of work experience. And for us well-fed, middle class types who pretty much know where our next meal and bed is, the chance to simply provide some folks who rarely have that certainty with a smile, a friendly word and a hearty (in fact, delicious!) meal is a real privilege.

I'm also wracked with admiration for the people who've made it their life's business to do this work all the time. I'd urge you to support them and the FoodBank charities in your city if you can.

Later that day, we caught up with friends and did the usual "eat, drink & be merry" Christmas thing. As we did though, I was challenged by the chewiness of the day- the normal Christmas vibe I'd known probably my whole life was somehow changing.

First there was our naked carol singer friend, living in the moment and simply revelling in the joy of it all. Then there was the tragic (still unfolding) story of the woman running naked through the streets, chasing or maybe being chased by her own demons. And then, there was the paradox of 250 homeless people gathered in the centre of the metropolis eating a sumptuous feast, constructed from the unwanted excess food from countless supermarkets.

It did strike me that the person for whom we celebrate Christmas, Jesus of Nazareth, might not think twice about these things at all. 

Go figure.