Hope Skinner, founder Nanny Shecando

Why Dogs Don’t Live As Long As Humans

A must read. It well melt your heart and give you a new way of approaching each day. From the perspective of a 6-year-old.

*Disclaimer: this didn’t come from a wise little 6-year-old that I happen to spend a lot of time with. I instead happened across it by chance and couldn’t help but share.

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Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog’s owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn’t do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker ‘s family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker’s transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker’s Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.

Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, “I know why”.

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I’d never heard a more comforting explanation. It has changed the way I try to live my life.

He said, “people are born so that they can learn how to live a good life — like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?” The Six-year-old continued,

”Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.”

Live simply.

Love generously.

Care deeply.

Speak kindly.

Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn things like:

When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.
Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure Ecstasy.
Take naps.
Stretch before rising.
Run, romp, and play daily.
Thrive on attention and let people touch you.
Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.
On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.
When you’re happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.
Be loyal.
Never pretend to be something you’re not.
If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.
When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and nuzzle them gently.

ENJOY EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY!

Author : Unknown

Sports Carnival. Game on!

Does competitiveness and winning still exist?

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I got to watch (and participate) in Miss Charlie’s sports carnival today.

I was so excited. Quite possibly more excited for it than she was. I was practising my cheer and wearing my house colours, supporting the happy, fun, full of energy, competitive vibe that is “Sports Day” at school.

I can recall numerous lunch breaks for weeks leading up to our carnivals in which we were all out on the sports ovals practising our house cheer and march. It was a serious thing. Never mind the fact that I’m naturally a competitive person (OK, perhaps a flaw that I’ve been perpetuating for years now), our sports carnivals were all about which house colour could accrue the most points and be declared winners. Come to think of it, maybe I’m so competitive now because my “house” never won and therefore I’m ever pursuing the unachievable dream.. But that’s a piece for another day.

Well, you could imagine my sheer wonder and ~~horror~~ amazement when I discovered the fact that Miss Charlie and the rest of her junior school friends were in-fact not using a real spoon and egg for the races… I know, right, blew me away too!

They instead had wooden paddles and wooden shaped egg-things-that-weren’t-really-eggs.

What happens when their hands wibble wobble and they drop their eggs? I’ll tell you. They bend right down and pick them up and put them back on their wooden-paddle-spoon.

And so I ask, where’s the lesson in that?

Tutus & Attitudes: Black Swan Theory.

Investopedia lists the ‘Black Swan theory’ as being a metaphor that describes an event that comes as a surprise…

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Well I sure got a surprise. In the form of some unexpected sass.

Miss Charlie was super excited to see me this afternoon because she wanted to show me her new moves. Dance moves that is. Groovin’ on the dance floor.

Her older sisters had shown her some of their ballet lesson, to which Miss Charlie was feeling uniquely accomplished and very much grown-up.

She raced upstairs to change whilst I waited with bated breath. I had the sneaking suspicion that this was going to get interesting. She then pranced (there’s not other word for it) down the stairs in an outrageously ~~hideous~~ vivacious pink tutu and matching leotard.

And here’s the kicker, not with ballet slippers and stockings. But wearing little white socks with lacy white frills on her ankles. Super cute. But not so great on the slippery floor.

She then proceeded to display a few ballet moves. And I have to admit, she did look rather gracious. Despite the pink.

In an effort to seem knowledgeable on the subject, I cast my mind back to recall the limited ballet knowledge hidden away in the depths of my long-term memory. This knowledge was very much hidden and very much limited as I’m pretty sure my debut into the ballet scene lasted all of one half-hour lesson when I was 5-years-old. I cried and cried and simply refused to go back ever again. It was horrible. Torturous.

And so I asked Miss Charlie if the pose she’d just held (she’d done something unnatural with her legs and feet to make her knees look scarily wonky) if it was called a plié. To which she replied,

No. It’s not a plié, whatever that is. It’s called the “step right, step left, da-da, tra-la-la”.

… Nice one Charlie, that sounds like my kind of ballet! Such a little,

Prima donna. Or should I say, “ballerina”.

Yawning, what causes it?

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I’ll tell you. It’s simple. Scientists may not know for sure. But I can tell you this:

As soon as I start reading aloud, I start yawning.

How is that? Why is that? Please someone explain this.

It doesn’t make any sense. It’s 7pm. I’m wide awake. I’ve got a mountain of things to do still. It’s the kiddies bedtime, not mine.

It’s really hard to make reading time work properly when I’ve got to interrupt each sentence to yawn, kind of doesn’t help the story line to flow all that well. Although, perhaps it’s a genius method to ensure the kids are following and not lolling off distracted (which will undoubtedly force me to read the same chapter again tomorrow night to “recap”). It makes the adventures of Captain Underpants slightly boring and turns the story of Cinderella into an epic-long tale.

The power of the yawn does many things to keep story time in business. In fact, perhaps the only thing my yawning doesn’t do, is make the kids yawn.. hmm and I thought yawning was supposed to be contagious!!

Gah, go to sleep already kids. Nanny was promised her peace and quiet. Ho hum.

Cops & Robbers: Why Do Police Carry Guns

Cops & Robbers: Shoot Em Up Cowboy!

I had an amusing conversation with Miss Charlie today. Not that having amusing conversations with a 6-year-old is anything out of the ordinary for Nanny Shecando. Miss6 has a firing curiosity for all things animal related, science, DIY, creative, inventive and imaginative. Anything that holds the possibility of a “Why Question” is hers for the taking. And take it she will. Today’s particular conversation was really rather standard, although I couldn’t help but share it with you. I’m sure it will give you a good giggle, it definitely did me!

Cops & Robbers: Shoot Em Up Cowboy!

Further Reading: Aren’t You Too Young To Be My Nanny?