On Turning Older

The horsey sight that greeted us when we got to our destination

Today marks the day where I turn younger by one more year. Wanting a novel experience, we decided to go for breakfast in Bukit Timah Road at 8am in the morning, an unearthly hour by most Sunday standards.

 

Eagerly waiting for breakfast (one gu-ni siew dai please!)

 

 

Having done intensive homework the night before, we decided on the Riders' Cafe for its unique scenery, potential animal lessons for the Rascal (we spotted monkeys, cats, horses and even a humungous python!) and breakfast menu which got rave reviews.

 

When our orders were served, we were not disappointed. The adults got 'The Usual', which comprise of scrambled/fried eggs, sour dough, garlic mushrooms, bacon, chicken sausage  and roasted tomato, something we could have done without... *gag*. My scrambled eggs were oh so moist and fluffy and the sour dough + mushrooms were divine!

 

 

 

The Rascal got a mini-version of our breakfast - sausage and scramby on toast.

 

The testament to the delicious-ness of our breakfast? A satisfied Husband who in his normal habitat, does not take breakfast and when he does, will deviate more towards more hearty Asian meals like wanton mee or fishball noodles. *burp*

 

The restaurant itself is situated right in front of a horsie exercise ring and we were lucky enough to catch one in action as we enjoyed our balcony view of the surroundings.

 

The Rascal getting restless after his yummy breakfast and peeking at a horse getting bathed.

 

Satisfied customers who will be back again

 

Having sated ourselves on a more than satisfactory breakfast, we headed out  of the place and along the way, saw a huge dead python on the road. Pity it was already covered in black flies and goodness knows what else, or I could have gotten myself a new bag...*wink*

 

 



 

From Cot To Bed

I had originally wanted to continue my blog as Part 3 of the Furgie trilogy (Twilight and Narnia has nothing on us!) but decided to dedicate this space tonight to announce that T has made the transition from cot to toddler bed as last.

As T is fast approaching the big 3, his weight is increasing disportionately to his age. By that, I mean that I am no longer able to lift him up and set him into the cot like when he was a little baby. Well, I could but a trip to the nearest hospital for a broken back doesn't sound quite appealing, pardon the self-preservation! This simple transition does not sound terribly exciting but to me, there is a certain tinge of wistfulness attached cos it marks yet another milestone that my baby is no longer a tiny helpless being. A cheeky, mischievious boy stands before me now, someone who is more than capable of climbing in (and out) of bed by himself.

When he got home from Granny's house earlier, T was pretty excited to see his 'big-boy' bed and could not wait to clamber onto it. And off. And on. And off again - you get the picture.

Furgie (Part II)

Furgie was officially introduced into our newly minted household sometime in early Oct 2009. We did not know at the time that it was to be a significant year for us, nor did we expect to be welcoming TWO new members into the folds of our home. In just under 2 months of Furgie setting paws over our threshold, I found myself accidentally pregnant (the pregnancy I mean, not the finding out part though that was very accidental too!).

 

From looking up books on understanding more about the breed, I found myself back in the bookstores reading up about how to aclimatise Furgie to the idea that she is going to have this Hobbit-like fella as a companion around the house. Our main fear was that we should be so "lucky: (lucky lucky lucky! I should be so lucky in love! So says Kylie Minogue...) to have gotten a pooch who is hostile towards incontinent Oompa Loompas covered in regurgitated milk.

 

Fast forward to 02 June 2010: T. Yeow was officially drop-kicked by the stork into the hallowed wards of Mt A, into the arms of a woozy mum and a (???) dad. One of the research materials I read suggested that new parents gently introduce the new wrinkly arrival to a pet already residing in the house by letting it scent objects belonging to the said wrinkly bundle. That was exactly what we did. The Dad snucked used baby clothing out at night while I was still recovering in hospital and let Furgie sniff them to her heart's content.

 

On the day that T was brought home, the first thing we did was a Divide & Conquer - Mum going down to dog level (with a corgi, that was a very low level indeed) with T and Dad hung on to Furgie for dear life while simultaneously allowing her to sniff T's tiny feet and bum. As tired as I was then, it was kinda funny to see Furgie very curiously sniffing out T's diaper-clad bum, the same way a dog will check out another dog. I dunno, it could be the lovely pungent smell of baby poo that aroused Furgie's interest...Happily enough, Furgie displayed no sign of hostility towards T and went on her merry way after the initial introductions were made.

 

(to be continued....)

Furgie (Part I)

This blog entry is dedicated to a family member whose perceived image is divided into two main schools of thought:

 

1. Rambunctious bundle of energy who strikes terror in non-believers; or
2. Rambunctious bundle of fur who is oh-so-adorable

Yup, you have guessed right: that would be the only furry member of the Hougang household - Furgie.

 

It has always been a childhood dream to have a dog of my own but due to parental objection, that dream was to be fufiled only after I set up my own home. Luckily enough, I also married  a man who is (1) an animal lover (sort of) and (2) not allergic to dog hair. With all angles covered, we set out in search of the Perfect Dog. 

 

Before setting out on that journey, we had debates on which breed of dog we wanted. Unfortunately, YSY and I had widely differring views on this.

 

"Pug?" Epitome of fugly. 

"KC cocker spaniel?" Too pansy-ass.

"Boston terrier?" See 'Pug'.

 

The debate went on and on cos basically my idea of a pet dog ran more along the lines of cutey-pie-lapdog-ish while his was anything with perky ears and pointy snout. Digression: I like my Men In Black while he watched The Mask one time too many - animal cum movie buffs will remember Frank and Milo well.

 

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we settled on corgis after months of debate. Next came the issue of where to source for one as corgis were not (and still is not) a popular breed in Singapore. Purchasing one from a pet-shop was not one of our favoured options as we have read about the horrors of puppy mills and the terrible conditions in which dogs are bred. To buy from a pet-shop will only encourage the financial motives for which puppy mills are set up for and that is not something that we want though the cost of a dog from the pet shop will probably be easier on our wallets. To find a specialised corgi-breeder in Singapore (who hopefully is ethically responsible as well) was almost impossible because as mentioned earlier, corgis are not a popular dog breed here.

 

By a stroke of luck, we found an online ad by a home-owner looking to sell his corgi pups. This fitted our goals exactly: not from a pet-shop where the corgi could possibly be puppy-milled and it was not bred with the intention of profits thereby compromising the dog's health. We arranged a meet-up with the uncle to assess the corgi's 'buy-ability' and Furgie was presented to us for the first time in a carton box, sleeping soundly. Our concerns that the uncle was home-breeding for monetary gains were allayed when he told us that if we wanted to buy Furgie, we could only bring her home after her second vacination (this would be when the puppy was around 4 months old which conincide with the minimum legal age requirement for which puppies can be sold in Singapore).

 

When Furgie was finally ready to be taken home in October 2009, she has changed radically from the tiny bundle of sleeping fur when we first saw her to a playful puppy who is eager to jump all over us (unfortunately, this trait has remained with her till this day. Trust me: being jumped on by 2kg of fur is waaaaaaaaay different from being ambushed by 25kg worth of muscle - I have the bruises to prove it.) Her ears which were droopy at 2 months of age, had also stand to attention in the characteristic 'antenna ears' of corgis all over the world. I fell in love again...

 

 

(to be continued...)