I am so proud of my little hero---PERDY!

I am home now, sitting here, contemplating the events for the last hour or so. I am thankful for the curiosity, the singlemindedness and stubbornness of my little Jack Russell, Perdy. Those factors came into play, today in a manner I have never experienced before.
Around 3.30, today I took Perdy for an afternoon walk to the beach, near where we live. I had just finished mowing the lawn and having a bite to eat, so the big date scone probably needed a walk-off and Perdy---well she's a Jack Russell who NEVER refuses a walk.
We ambled by the stream, which seemed to have lost its anger, after the crazy weather most of the North Island of New Zealand has experienced over the last few days. Gone was that contortion, that tumbles stones millions of times more violently than my little stone tumbler, an item that we seek treasures to process, on our walks.
After we left the banks of the stream, we headed towards the pathway that fronts the retirement village, The usual 'characters' were present, many hundreds of Oyster Catchers and other seabirds, all resting, after having been in the Firth of Thames, hunting and doing what every they do 'out there.'
Perdy started her pulling, something that I must admit, I have not made much progress with, other than to 'slightly' lessen the intensity.
She persisted and added her voice to her actions. She became quite stroppy and kept pulling me back---past the area we had just left. She WOULD NOT give in. Her barking increased, causing me to glance towards where she was attempting to drag me.
It was then that I noticed an arm. I froze--then headed over to the bank, where I noticed that a person was stuck, between the rocks and the grass. She was crying out, but the sound of the waves carried her frail voice away from the homes, that were less than twenty meters away.
I bent down, Perdy still attached to me, via the wrap around leash.
'I've been yelling for an hour,' the lady said feebly.
My mind went into overdrive. What to do, scream for help, try to get her out, was she hurt, what if I hurt her more by moving her, were those bruises on her arm, how heavy is she? The questions kept playing in my mind, but suddenly I knew I had to get help---fast!
A flash of orange attracted my attention, on the other side of the pathway, It was a guy, with a small truck---the ka bel said something about 'painter.'
'Mate!,' I  yelled. "Help me---there's a lady who's fallen down---I can't get her out without hurting her!.
He came running and a fellow worker, a fit looking young woman, joined us.
The trapped lady was able to talk to us and was more concerned about  NOT being heard, than with any potential injuries.
The two young people were brilliant. It was almost as if they had some level of training for such situations. They KNEW what to do, and between us, we managed to gently lift the lady onto the grass, where we asked her if she was hurting anywhere, and which of the units she had come from.
She pointed to the nearest unit and even managed to stand up---unsteadily, but there was no keeping her down.
As we approached her unit (I picked up the two containers she had dropped----she had been feeding the birds!) an elderly man popped his face out of the sliding door.
'We should ring management and get a nurse over here,' I implored.
' No need,' the lady said.
My young helpers pulled out a cell phone and made contact with the village management, she assured us that she was on the way, in spite of the objections of the lady.
We were thanked and I asked if I could check on her the next day.
AS we left, I thanked the two young people, telling them that I could not have managed the situation on my own.
It is now, that I am sitting here, at home, that I wish that I had asked for names---of everyone. I didn't. Things just happened so fast. I look at Perdy---sleeping on the sofa.
What a little hero and she doesn't even know it.
I will go and introduce myself, tomorrow. Perhaps a jar of my jam may go down well.

The great escapologist!

Saturday mornings have always been special for me. I am not sure of the actual reasons for this, other than the 'feel good, end of the work week, hope for a relaxing couple of days,' kinda impetus. Of course, now-----that's a redundant reaction, as I have a six day week----one day working and six days off!
Perdy and I hit the footpaths of Tararu at a civilised time; about 8 am. She was pulling on the leash, eager to explore the myriad of smells and any possibility of a cat, lurking in the bushes. As we passed the retirement village, Perdy did this weird move; a twisting motion that had the effect of loosening her leash, giving her the chance to pull her little head from the aforementioned 'red imprisoning doggie feature!'
She was OFF---heading towards the 'oldies,' knowing that certain inhabitants of the village would be very welcoming. Perdy knows who will stick out the 'welcoming mat.' She has them all sorted into categories, all on the 'love me, hate me,' spectrum.
I, naturally 'followed the leash,' so to speak, dragging myself along the pathways and little roads of the village, looking like a bedraggled beachcomber. Luckily, many of the dear oldies, know me, from my many sojourns, past, and in front of the village, and along the waterfront. There were waves and smiles, as if they were in on this little Perdy escapade!; they were bloody COMPLICIT!
One lady, who has told me her name quite a few times, but I keep calling her the wrong name, pointed in the direction of one of the units in front of the village. I followed her finger and approached the inhabitant. The front door was open, and I could hear the sound of laughing and Perdy barking.
I knocked and called out at the same time.
'Come in, Neil,' a friendly voice replied.
What a sight: a cat sitting imperiously on the dining table and PERDY barking in that frustrated, 'I can't get you,' tone, while the owner, who's name I also forgot, watching with a smile that said, 'this beats being bored, any day.'
As for me---I was wondering when the bout of AFIB was going to hit!   It didn't---because I  managed to grab a wriggling Perdy and stick her lead back on---a little tighter. That was until the lead broke---and she was off again, this time heading out towards the main road.
'Oh no!' I shouted, loud enough to cause the manager to push the alarm. Wow---things really were going 'shite-shape!' If this didn't bring on an 'attack,' then I was going to have some other sort of 'medical event!'
I wobbled towards the main road, fully expecting there to be cars swerving to avoid the manic Jack Russell.
Nope---there she was, sitting under the huge tree that shades the front part of the village---patiently waiting for me.
GOT  ya---maybe not. It is after all--April the first in New Zealand. BUT---I often have dreams like this little ditty!!
Have a great day, folks.

Dogs and kids---much in common--PB4L!

This is a post that many teachers in NZ will 'get.' Some of you will laugh, others shrug my comments off as 'unseemly,' whilst other may be a little angry, for all the right---or wrong---reasons.
I well remember the time, when the school I worked at, decided (or was it decided for them?) that they would go down the pathway of PB4L (Oops---I better expand on that---Positive Behaviour for Learning)
In short---

PB4L – Positive Behaviour for Learning | Education in New Zealand

www.education.govt.nz/ministry-of-education/specific-initiatives/pb4l/

Positive Behaviour for Learning (PB4L) improves the behaviour and well-being of children and young people. ... Programmes offer tools for supporting positive behaviour in situations of clear need, and in more settled environments. ... More about the Positive Behaviour for Learning (PB4L ...

There---that's more 'official' than the simplistic manner in which I may have 'reported the programme.

Many schools through New Zealand have embraced the initiative, with mixed results. I suspect that how successful the schools have been, depends on how 'fully' the staff (that includes ALL personal who work in the school) have embraced the programme. As with all 'new initiatives, there is the time taken re PD and the roll out, along with the humps and bumps along the way. Schools are constantly involved in many initiatives that 'may or may not enhance their teaching practice so one could take the view that energy levels flag after a while, re any new 'programmes.'

I am going to suggest that any effective teacher has always known that most of the premises of the PB4L programme are something that has always worked for them. They know that their relationship with their students is paramount to 'learning,' that the environment they provide is the foundation for learning and that positive reinforcement of good behaviours is way better than negative, sarcastic or bullying approches, that some of their collueges exhibit.

This is where I go bush! I am going to say that dog owners also know a thing or two about PB4L! Recently, I subscribed to a site that draws on many of the premises of PB4L. I am not so sure that I can name it, for legal reasons-----the guy may take exception to my comments.

He debunks, much of what people tell me when it comes to working with my Jack Russell. I hear people telling me to use methods that, so far have not worked, re the main issues I have been having---the running off and the 'not listening,' both of which occur when she is off leash and senses a cat or rat nearby. I maintain that it is simply in her genes to want to chase these critters and I have yet to see a Jack Russell that does NOT respond to such 'stimuli!' It's what they were bred for!

The guy who has the website maintains that negative reinforcement does not work and that a positive relationship with your dog, will ensure that there is no need for punishing (or giving treats all the time) your dog when he/she exhibits 'bad' behaviours. He presents numerous videos showing his approach and his methods 'appear' to work. He does underline his foundational belief that YOU need to be the 'leader of the pack, though,' and that does not necessarily go against the tenets for PB4L re students. (A school is a school and has a hierarchy!)

I have only 'touched on describing the two threads of this 'article,' but the uniting factors are hard to ignore. Many dog owners have always known what I have described, just as generations of effective teachers have quietly gone about their days, educating and giving children a love of learning because they---understand!

A dog needs to speak up sometimes! (Sponsored by Jack Russell-speak!)

Hi----you can call me, Perdy, which is short for Perdita. I know----you are wondering why a dog would bother to write a blog. Well----you better get used to it, because after many requests to my owners,' Rio and  Neil, I have decided to step out, to put myself  'out there,' so to speak, and tell my story. OK---I have to 'piggy back' on Neil's Blog, but doggies have yet to attain full rights in New Zealand. 'They' are still working on stuff like medical cannabis, dirty rivers, and housing issues, so I guess the hairy members of the populace will just have to join the line of others wanting to push their barrows.

It's hard to know where to start because a great deal of water, clean and polluted, has gone under the bridge and I am not even halfway to the rainbow bridge yet. I vaguely remember my first few months in this crazy world. I think I was born in Meremere, a tiny little village to the south of Auckland. I DO remember being carried down a long steep driveway (well that's what it seemed like to me before I learned to escape up that same drive, months later!)
My new life began and oh what a life it's been! Not just for me, but for the two daddies in my life. Yeah, I figured that one out pretty damned quick. There was no way I could play off  'Mum and Dad!'  I know I'm using 'quite educated dogie-talk,' but one thing I have learned in my seven short years; that is not to patronize my readers, using language from the crib! Don't worry---I am more than capable of using 'barks from the gutter,' so BE PREPARED!
Those first few nights in the little flat in Mt Roskill, Auckland were really strange for me. Gone were my brothers and sisters, although, I had heard that I was the 'runt of the litter,' and that meant always being at the back of the line when it came to----everything. Yes, those big hairy siblings ignored me, unless I was in the way! You could say I had issues, right from the start, but I prefer to say, it 'prepared me for what was about to come!'
That first night in ingrained in my memory---that endless night: new smells, sounds no warm bodies to snuggle up against. Yeah, those brothers and sisters WERE good for something. I cried and even though my dads came to check o me in that little crate, I still felt deserted. I didn't understand the strange way they spoke---that was a skill. yet to be learned, but doggie oh doggie, I caught on fast!
Morning came and I had only pooped a few times in the corner of my crate. I hated that. Widdling---well I had no control of that, at that time and I didn't really care. My dads made a huge fuss of me. That was when I figured that, 'this was all up to me!'  I was the center of attention, the focus for everything in the house. There was an issue, though---I WAS NOT ALONE. There was another creature in the home---a hairy thing that did not bark. It was huge (Hey---I was only tiny at ten weeks of age!) and it kept staring at me. I stood just outside my crate and I am sure it wanted to eat me.
It had a name---CAT and a second name---Jasmine. I learned much later that Jasmine is the name of a nice smelling flower.  Yeah right! My dads did not know then, butI had a plan. If that cat didn;t stop looking at me, I was going to need to assert my position in the home. BUT---I also figured that time is like a piece of string and my story with my two dads was also an unknown quantity in those first few months.
I'm tired now and I need a rest. There will be much more to follow!

Boys WILL be boys sometimes. An Indonesian story that could be ANYWHERE!

Boys WILL be boys, no matter ‘where and when’ they are!

We can all relate to ‘yesterday’ stories. They ring a bell, tweak an emotion or just plain make us laugh. Take this one for example, as told to me by a special Indonesian guy. It took place in the early 1990s, in and---into the jungles close to Jakarta.

“I was about 16 years old and I was a pretty good kid. I attended school every day, behaved myself and generally did quite well in all my subjects. My parents were very strict and I guess they were typical of parents back then---they knew what I was up to and had a close relationship with the school.

I was in a class of about 35 kids and it was my senior year in the school. Most of the boys were from families that cared and in the majority of cases, there were few behavioural issues. BUT---sometimes ‘BOYS JUST GOTTA HAVE FUN,’ I guess Cindy Lauper’s song must have got to us a bit so we decided to have OUR version of FUN!

It took a few days to plan our EVENT, and after preparing suitable stories for our families, we launched the fun times. There were about fourteen boys involved and fourteen alibies to prepare, along with the food, clothing, tents and even a guitar. We were going ‘JUNGLE!’

On the morning of the great escape, the boys and I gathered at a Warung (a street café) near the school, then boarded one of the city trains, heading out towards Bogor and beyond. We were now in the hills and it was so much more comfortable than the crazy, sticky, hot streets of Jakarta. We purchased a few food items; the ubiquitous noodles and some tinned food. The boys all had water bottles and we figured on picking up a few more from some of the villages near to our target zone.

We climbed higher and higher and the jungle replaced the myriad of small farms. Many a villager cast curious glances at our little procession, but generally, they left us alone.

After walking for a few hours, we stopped for the night near a bubbling stream. The two tents we had lugged up the hills were soon set up and a fire lit as the sun sank below the horizon. The party began!

NO---there was no alcohol, just water and lots of other spirits—the exuberant kind that comes with being young and having fun. We sang, we laughed and played silly games. We told stories and the inevitable ghost stories began to dominate. Sure---we were very aware of the snakes, spiders, scorpions and centipedes---some of which could put one or all of us in jeopardy! To be honest---it was the ‘spirits and ghosts that we all believed in, that really bent our resolve to stay no more than a day or two.

We slept, if only for a few hours then on the next day we explored the river, swimming and having fun. No one got hurt----well not seriously. Another night passed and then it was back to the city---to face the music.

By the time, we arrived home---all hell had broken loose. The school had started the ‘reaction.’ Think about it. My class had 35 kids and all but one of the boys had not turned up to school that first day. He sat alone, looking ‘goody goody,’ while the girls muttered amongst themselves about where we ‘may’ have gone.

Our ‘home room’ teacher alerted the principal, who then began the massive task of ringing all of the parents. The parents began ringing one another and gathered together at various homes of the guilty kids. The police were not called at this stage.

The day passed and then another night. On the way, back from the jungle, we discussed what we were going to face back at home---and school. We were about to find out. Were we going to be beaten? Apparently, the principal had told the parents to ‘stay calm and leave it to him.’ They did as he had asked. Apart from a few words and lots of ‘looks,’ we were left alone to stew about the next day at school.

We went to class, whereupon a message came from the principal for us to go to the school field. Our anxiety levels ramped up somewhat as he quietly looked at our group. He preached, not religion, but how hard our parents had worked to get us to this good school and how they had sacrificed so much----for us.  Then----came the consequences.

He made us stand the whole school day in the hot sun. The other kids mocked us mercilessly. We were hot and thirsty. I remember the school nurse watched us, for the entire day. Finally, it was over and we were allowed to go home.’

Boys it seems will do what they have done for aeons---have fun, take risks and to hell with the consequences. Not much has changed, wherever we come from. Sure, the stories may differ, but there is a unifying human factor in this little story. It makes me smile, even if I disapprove---a bit---probably the snakes and spiders would have been my worry.

Thanks for sharing your adventure with me, Rio.

Roskill---a little road trip.

I should have done this a few years ago. Yes, just sitting, waiting, writing the occasional post just doesn't cut it when it comes to getting Roskill out there. I needed to do something different and that is exactly what I did today. I had laid the foundation for it yesterday---but today was the day to JUST DO IT!
Being a self-published author is a financial drain and getting any real push going for increased sales is like trying to break into a market that is made for the big boys and girls of the publishing world. I decided to make a direct approach to a couple of local book shops.
I made up a little blurb about how shops could take my book on consignment and pay only if they made any sales. I had contact details, pricing and payment method on the handout.
After my usual breakfast, courtesy of Super-Hen and her friends, I grabbed the bag of books and the blurb sheets, plonked Perdy in the back seat of the car and drove to the first drop off in Thames. Roskill is now for sale at Paper Power in the main street; not many at this stage, but one has to start somewhere.
Then, I took Perdy for a quick run in the park and headed towards Paeroa, about 28 kilometres away. I drove down the main street but damned if I could see a book shop. Oh well, I thought. Maybe I can just give one to the library. They were very pleased to receive a signed copy and they can always buy more directly from me if there is a call from library members. (Yes, people---go and ask them for a copy!) They told me about the Post Shop as being the main bookshop, so that's where I headed next.
After a short but very friendly conversation with the managers, they too took a few books on consignment.
So there we have it, folks. If you want a copy of Roskill, then head to Paper Power in Thames or the Post Shop in Paeroa. If you don't want to pay the $28 then go to your library, wherever that is and ask for Roskill by Neil CXoleman and they can always buy a copy from their suppliers. Of course, anyone wanting a copy can get it from my website as a download or hard copy from Amazon. The cheapest way is to contact me directly at neilcolemanauthor@gmail.com If you go via the website for a download (for any of my books) just follow the links from Neils' Books.
Happy reading everyone.

Coastal contentment.

A day can bring much in the way of failed dreams or at the other end of the scale---new or enhanced opportunities. Today was such a day.
Once I had resolved the various issues for the day around household and garden matters, I sat down to a simple repast of tuna sandwiches and grapes from the garden. Then I received the 'phone call' from an organisation that I had applied to for some extra work. I was not successful. I had been forewarned last week that my experience was not a strong match for the requirements of the position. I was a little disappointed, but also partly relieved. I had been going over my plans for the year, during the day and one of those involved setting myself up, albeit in a very small manner, in opposition to the provider who decided that they did not want me 'at this time.' I told them that and I was encouraged to let them know if it worked out for me and that they 'could reconsider' my position. Why would I do that, if I was building a future that involved just myself rather than working for a large organisation?
As soon as I put the phone down, I received an email from another isnsitution; one where I already work; one that I love working for, asking me to come and meet some prospective clients increasing my workload to the point that I am satisfied.
Balance was immediately restored and I felt a sense of contentment. I love my Mondays in Auckland with the clients I see. I like the people who I liaise with re my clients.
On my walk this evening with Perdy I sat on a beautiful rock, looking across the Firth of Thames. I had a sense that my cup was comfortably full----not overflowing, but why seek more than is needed; it just dissipates in the sand.
The sun will come up tomorrow and I will go about my day, giving and receiving. Balance on the Coast. Balance in my life.