Izzy visits Docklands

My friends Mikey and Ivan have been giving me grief over the number of times I mention my kids in this column, which is unashamedly numerous and occasionally self-indulgent.

Why self-indulgent? Because it gives me the opportunity to re-live the little moments of amusement, clarity, presence and joy that I share with them. Little jewels in the everyday grind that remind me of the ‘why’ behind everything.

Because they are my children, I appreciate that, while I may find these moments endlessly amusing and poignant, they may be eye-glazingly boring to anyone other than myself and their father…and maybe their grandparents (friends and family may feign intense interest but we all know its fake, right?).

So...I won’t dwell too much on my boys in this column, but I will mention another furrier, smellier and scratchier element of my life … my dog, Izzy.

Izzy is a Staffordshire bull terrier brought into our family two years ago from a Gumtree ad under the strict condition that my boys take full responsibility for her care, grooming and cleaning up.

I know you know that I am the only one who feeds, waters, cleans, cleans up after and walks Izzy.

No point in dwelling on that because it just makes me feel defeated.

So what’s my excuse for bringing her into my Docklands-based column? Because she came to work with me the other day and (animal lovers and experts may condemn me for this) slept in the car while I went to work and then walked with myself and Mikey at lunchtime.

She gets lonely at home during the day and is so much more content in the car that I simply had to bring her in. (She has big caramel-brown eyes that actually look like they are tearing up when I leave the house and quite frankly it breaks my heart.)  Soo…I bundled her into the car one particularly heart-wrenching morning and took her to work with me.

When I left her in the car she didn’t batt an eyelid, so convinced was she that I would return shortly with a full itinerary of doggy adventures to be had and an implementation plan.

I suspect she spent the morning snoozing, snuffling, and chewing at her bone toy thingy that’s supposed to be soft enough for the dog to chew and get some bits off but is actually hard as a rock and just as unappetising.

When Mikey and I went to pick her up at lunchtime some sort of doggy sixth sense must have kicked in because she was standing up, looking out of the window and waiting for us expectantly.

We walked down beside the river, past the ANZ, over the bridge and along the other side of the river towards the Bolte Bridge, Izzy, Mikey and I. We stopped at a little grassy park and let Izzy (and Mikey) off leash so they could run around together with a great deal of joy and abandonment.

It was beautiful to see.  Up hills – or hillocks really – across the park, and round and round in circles they ran.

Or at least Mikey did, with Izzy sporadically joining in, in-between dragging her belly across the rough grass and being distracted by flies. She’s not the smartest of dogs but she must be the cutest.

It was probably one of the most relaxing lunch breaks I have ever taken. Dunno about Mikey – he was worn out from the running…but I reckon he enjoyed it too.

As for Izzy, she couldn’t stop thanking me. She went on and on about her day out in Docklands for weeks after. So much so I had to tell her to put a sock in it. Or a bone…or a chew toy.

X Maria