Adventures of an Urban Nomad - What's in a Name?

Laurence Harrould - Sunday, December 18, 2011

The current house we're in has an interesting dog - a poodle shihtzu cross. She's very cute but does some distinctly odd things - especially associated with her toilet habits. To do a wee she does a handstand - standing on her front paws with her rear sticking up in the air. Poohing is done on the move so that when we pick up after her (being good doggy citizens) we have to follow her trail.

Anyway, she got me thinking about the names of dog cross breeds. There's Cavoodles (Cavalier King Charles Spaniel x Poodle), Spoodles (Spaniel x Poodle), Groodles (Golden Retriever x Poodle), Moodles (Maltese x Poodle), Labradoodles (Labrador x Poodle), even Shmoodles (Shihtzu X Maltese x Poodle) and lots more.

So, my big question for this week is: what's a Shihtzu x Poodle called? Using the above examples it's probably a Shioodle. However, it does seem a bit unfair that the poodle part is always at the end. So, in the interest of equality I think it should be a Pooshiht.

What do you think?

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Adventures of an Urban Nomad - Trapped

Laurence Harrould - Sunday, December 11, 2011

In Jewish tradition rain is called a "siman brakha" - sign of blessing. Sometimes you can have too much of a good thing.

Recently, we had a phone call at 8 o'clock one morning from the owner of the property on which we're staying. She'd had a call from one of the locals saying that if the rain didn't stop by midday we would be flooded in and she was ringing to warn us.

This raised some interesting dilemmas for us. 

Firstly, we had a visitor staying over for the weekend and if we were trapped he'd be with us for an indefinite period. That was OK (he's quite a nice guy) but he'd just started a new job and we were a bit concerned about him having to ring his boss and say he wasn't coming in, at very short notice.

There are animals on the farm (horses and cattle) and they needed moving to higher ground. Sancho would be in his element for this as he's become very proficient at herding cattle. Our challenge would be to get him to move them where we wanted.

Did we have enough food and supplies to last?

So we spent a very anxious morning watching as the rain got heavier trying to decide whether to take our guest to the nearest railway station and hopefully get back before the roads were blocked.

I could tell you about how the waters rose and we were out in the rain moving animals and how we ran very low on fresh food and how we had to call clients and move meetings etc. I could, but I won't, because that would be lying (otherwise called "poetic licence").

What happened was that by midday the rain had stopped and the day became quite hot and humid. The river rose almost to the road but that was it. And so an opportunity for a new experience passed us by.

The interesting thing since that happened has been to notice the type of conversations people have around here. In Sydney it usually gets on to house prices. Out here it's about how high the water gets, when the last big one happened (2007) and who'll be stuck.

This week we move to Rose Bay so concerns about flooding will be off the agenda for a while.

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Adventures of an Urban Nomad - Climbing Mount Everest

Laurence Harrould - Sunday, December 04, 2011

Ever since arriving at our current housesit I'd wanted to climb the hills bordering the property. From where we were, it looked like there would be a spectacular view of the valley and our house.

This week I decided it was time to take action. So early one morning (7am) I called Sancho (our 10 year old Lhasa Apso x Maltese) to go for a "walk". Because he's very trusting and enjoys a daily walk he didn't realise what he was getting himself into. Had he known, I'm sure he'd have opted to stay in bed.

We headed out across the open paddocks following a fence which ran up the hill. Very soon the fence stopped and we were on our own. I figured all we needed to do was keep heading upwards and we'd soon reach the top - which from the house didn't seem that far.

Because we were travelling through virgin bush there were no paths and so we were pushing our way through spiky bushes, spider webs, over and under fallen trees and up steep rock faces. After half an hour of climbing and being confronted with another sheer rock wall it occurred to me that I'd ignored the first rule of bush walking - let someone know where you're going! (Danita had spent the night in the city and wasn't around when we left.) I had taken my phone with me but as there's no mobile reception in the area it was for photographic purposes only (I wasn't planning to do this again and so I needed proof). Having realised my stupidity in ignoring the above-mentioned rule I decided to keep going anyway - after all I could see the top and we were very close.

Once we reached the "top" I realised there was still more upward direction to go. Being determined to "get there" I kept going. Sancho was amazing in his ability to run up rock faces, crawl through brambles and leap from tree to tree. I now believe he's got some mountain goat as well as the other parts to his breeding or perhaps it's the Tibetan (Lhasa Apso) influence. 

Eventually, we climbed over yet another rock face to find the ground flat before us - WE'D REACHED THE TOP!! I was elated and turned around to take in the spectacular scenery I was expecting. Only one problem - the view was crap - all I could see were trees. It was pretty much the same as it was at the bottom of the hill.

This had taken us an hour, my shirt was completely covered in sweat and now we had the challenging part - getting back. I started thinking about people who'd climbed Mt Everest only to die on the way down.

One of the big difficulties was that perspective was completely different. When it came to climbing down the rocks I found I couldn't really tell how far it was to the bottom. Coming up I could find footholds and handholds because I was looking up at the "wall". Not so on the way down. At a couple of places I managed to slide down only to find Sancho standing at the top refusing to follow. My plan was to pick him up and carry him down these parts but he had other ideas. As I'd climb back up to get him he'd head off in another direction. Not only was I doing a lot of slipping on the loose leaf litter, I was also very anxious about him. I could readily imagine the conversation with Danita if I had to tell her Sancho had fallen off a cliff.

About half way down my left left stopped working - I couldn't put weight on it. The rest of the way down was limping and sliding with my mind again filled with thoughts about not leaving a note saying where we'd gone and people dying on the return journey.

Eventually, we made it to the bottom and I was excited to see our house in the distance. Getting home was a thrill even if I was bleeding, aching and exhausted. At this point I realised Sancho wasn't with me and didn't come when I called. The last thing I wanted to do was more walking!  He'd decided to go home a different way and thankfully did finally turn up.

Every morning since, when we suggest a walk, Sancho has pointedly gone in the other direction!

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