Today I thought not.

So, I logged in to remove the link to the Domestic Executive Facebook page. Part of my defiant attempt to squeeze useless social media from my life, and save the souls of others too.

And, here I am. Pondering, to blog or not?

It’s not like I don’t “blog” – I pour a daily feed of photographs of the good life from Instagram into the blog just to let my Dad and my in-laws know I’m still alive and kicking.

I’ve just lost the long-form blogging habit. The personal journal-like publication that became personally uncomfortable as my life changes and challenges.

But my Instagram feed is to be believed, basset blogging still rules 2018 style.

I love to write. To take photographs. Put the two together and you could have a blog. Who knew!

No promises. No more pondering. Let’s see.

I lean into the memory of Fortnum’s quizzical look. His determined stare. The padding of those massive paws along the wooden floors. The vibrations as he ran along. The sight of Fortnum sitting on the front veranda, sniffing the breeze. A glance out the window to watch our big basset examining every blade of grass along the boundary. A curled up ball of basset hound, nose to tail sleeping peacefully. A squished face, wrinkles and jowls contorted. A contented sigh. The beat of his tail as I sing his song. An indignant pout after being told off. A silent companion by my desk. Always close by watching over me.  My big basset hound is gone but not forgotten.

The last two months have been so very painful. Some days have been an abyss of grief, guilt and forlorn, yet impossible hope, that any moment Fortnum would return from one of his adventures mythering for his dinner.

More than two months on without his physical presence everyday I hold him tight in my heart and in my mind.

In January, I dusted off my photography gear with new resolve. Alas, I only managed one basset blogging shoot before Fortnum passed away. It is with pride and joy I share this last photographic adventure with my two boys.

Whilst we miss our Big Basset more than words can say, I only imagine what it is like for Mason. He’s been been so strong finding his way in his new solo basset world. Whilst he’s always been a bit of a mummy’s boy, he stays even closer now. Despite all our efforts and medication he has been most unsettled on his own at night making it very clear that if anyone is to get any sleep the pack must be close together. So now, in the dark hours of the night, I have two sets of snores, snuffles and shuffles to contend with.

Only yesterday he ran and played with other dogs. The first time I’ve seen him do this since Fortnum left us. It was good to see him kick up his heels and see him run.

They say that grief never ends, but it changes. I know this to be true.

Life’s meaning changes when you lose a loved one. Day-to-day we still carry on with routines of eating, sleeping and working but the luxuries in life seem so unimportant. You use all your energy just to get through the day. Although still interested in my domestic executive ways – cooking, baking, gardening, making photographs – my heart just has not been in over recent weeks.

To give you a sense of how this has been for me – there is no ironing pile. My free time has moved from nurturing my creativity in the garden, kitchen or in writing to a simple repetitive task that requires little focus and effort. Seeming productive in such a mundane way is about all the life’s purpose I could muster for a while.

Fortnum’s life was too short but it was full of all the things he loved – eating, sofa time, running, sniffing, hanging around to watch the world go by and plodding along on his daily walk. Just to watch him enjoy his life brought us so much joy. He also gave us companionship, friendship and that unconditional love that makes you a better person as a result.

As Mason starts to kick up his heels it’s probably a sign that it’s time for us to find fun in life again. To live life harder. To make more effort and find a new way.

If the depth of grief is the price of the love you feel, it’s one pain I never want to go away. If I hold on tight to the memories and remember the good times, those precious moments feel real again and make me smile.

Aside from the lingering sense of nervousness, the after effects of the Christchurch earthquake only show up in my outlook on life. Facing a life threatening situation does wonders for your sense of perspective of what’s important and what’s not. Although there is a big wide world to experience and embrace, ultimately it is only those you love and care about that really matter most.

Ten days ago our world was shook up and thrown down in the most brutal way. The aftershocks are painful and I need more strength than I have within me now to write much about it yet. But, the painful fact is that on 12 February we said farewell to our Big Basset, Fortnum. Yes, our larger than life hound is gone from our lives. It was fast from a cancer we didn’t know he had.

I am mad as hell about what’s happened and bereft at the enormous gap that can never be filled. Fortnum’s life was full but too short, he was 7 and a half.

It’s not like you can ever prepare yourself for the loss of a loved one but the nature of Big Basset’s passing has deepened the shock and grief. Our daily routines that seemed so important before have fallen away, partly because they are a constant reminder of Fortnum but mostly because they just don’t seem to matter any more.

Our bassets arrived as a pair. A big one and a little one. A noisy one and a quiet one. One that runs and another that trots. They were a perfect balance, each with their own personalities and foibles but as a package they couldn’t be better matched. Even their names only really make sense when spoken together.

Little basset is doing well but he’s never had to be a solo basset. Emotionally and practically we have massive challenges ahead. We’re taking it one day at a time. People tell me it will get easier but so far the pain just dulls until a little aftershock arrives and the grief rolls over in overwhelming waves.

Mason says it all with big deep sighs. It’s like an expulsion of air to take the edge of the hurt. A safety valve for the pressure that builds inside.

Intellectually I know that over time things will get better. It’s good to focus on practical things and professional work. Distracting the mind fools you thinking that life is OK. But it’s a fool’s game you can’t sustain.

Counting my blessings helps. Hugging Mason helps. Talking about Fortnum to all our dog loving friends helps. Crying helps. Receiving love and support from my husband, friends and family helps. The brutal truth is part of our family is gone and we just need to let grief play its gruesome game.

And when that’s done, we’ll be able to celebrate, remember and give thanks for all Fortnum brought into our lives.

For them every day is a holiday with the only variation to their usual life is greater possibility of neck rubs, more food begging opportunities and less impatient hurry up calls as we wind our way on their daily walk through one of our local haunts. No, life for bassets is pretty much the same, even their floor cushion only moves from one heat source to another, the fire in winter and sunny veranda at this time of year.

Fortnum continues to be a worry.  Since my last update he has turned up negative for every test, including a kidney scan, which is good news although leaving the vets a little baffled.  It seems that his health woes rest squarely with arthritis and aging at a faster rate than we would like. He’s all dosed up with injections and pain relief and loving new home-made gourmet food since he point-blank refuses to eat his normal tucker.  Although some people say that he will eat when he’s hungry I just tell them that they can sit and watch him lose weight by the day and see if they relent or not.

It took us a while to realise that Mason was benefiting from Fortnum’s loss of appetite and we’re wondering whether we need to swop their nick names – Big and Little basset – since our big basset is now slim and trim and the little hound looks like he’s in training for sumo wrestling. Suffice to say he is on a strict diet and meal times are fully supervised to avoid any confusion about which hound should eat what.

With all the ups and downs in our hounds life there’s been a distinct lack of basset photography so I’m so pleased that our basset calendar runs until the end of January which gives me time to get back into photographic action again.  Here’s a selection from today’s walk for those in need of  a basset fix.

It seems I’m a magnet for this year’s winter germs. Passing from one client office to another has exposed me to a multitude of corporate infections, not to mention my nearest and dearest bringing home his own version to share. It’s been a double whammy, winter blues and bugs that annoyingly don’t make you bed ridden for a few days but instead cause malingering tendencies and an overwhelming desire to stay in your pyjamas all day. And, just when you think you’ve kick the nasty into touch it’s back like a punchbag to knock you sideways again.

I’m fed up with feeling below par, tired, grumpy and dealing with stuff that seems to break. First it was the water filtration system that cleanses the rainwater we harvest, then the washing machine packed in and after a few minor mishaps technology wise I managed to shatter the screen on my iPhone. Each of those things in itself is annoying but manageable, it’s the nightmare of getting replacements and repairs blighted by failed deliveries and obstreperous insurance people with weasel ways that strains what little resilence and patience I still have.

The hounds haven’t minded too much though as they’ve been able to waddle around their walks at basset pace without the usual impatient calls to hurry up, be quick and cruelly getting them excited about something fictitious for them to chase. No, for them it’s been basset business as usual with their noses to the ground and digging around the undergrowth sniffing out unmentionable things.

It’s hard not to let them have their hour of play. After all what else does a hound have in life but eating, sleeping and lounging around hogging the space on the sofa. To be fair they deserve a little downtime as Mason is nursing an injured tail from some rather too rough play at doggie day care and Fortnum has become such a frequent visitor to the vets of late that he is known by every nurse and vet who works there.

Poor Big Basset has been prodded and poked in the relentless search for what’s causing him to drink copious amounts of water. Good news is that it’s not cushings or addisons disease and although he has tested negative for diabetes we’re now seeing whether its diabetes insipidus which involves me collecting urine samples which I have learned takes a lot of skill if you’re not to alarm your basset too much!

Aside from being a total misery there are lots of fun things happening too but most exciting of all is that the days are longer and brighter so you might actually believe summer was on its way. Tune in soon, I promise to be back with a little more cheer.

I rarely carry my SLR any longer on my daily walks with the bassets unless the light looks particularly appealing and I have time to spare boosting the basset image library. Instead I rely on my iPhone which I carry with me like a security blanket as if it will cure-all ills and keep me safe during unexpected earthquakes. So here’s my disclaimer, I took all these photographs with my iPhone and although originally destined for my Instagram feed on closer inspection I decided they were perfect basset blogging material instead.

Just before I left on my trip to the UK a bitter southerly was a stark reminder that we are in winter bringing biting winds and damp weather, the worst combination for a basset with creaking joints. Poor Fortnum started suffering with arthritis over a year or so ago, a natural result of being a big dog on little legs. To combat the worst of the effects he has an outdoor coat for bitterly cold days, a daily natural food supplement and wears a magic collar that together keep him mobile and his tail wagging in ways that he didn’t without. For extra special measures, we are now the proud owners of a special pet ramp so the hounds can wander in and out of the car, instead of leaping down putting further pressure on their ageing legs.

If you’re raising your eyebrows at the extensive array of pet pampering you’re not the only one. Fortnum is not keen on being shown up when he’s out and about especially if other dogs are looking. Mason of course thinks it’s all marvellous and sees his coat as the only reasonable alternative to staying indoors in front of the fire although it doesn’t stop him taking every opportunity to take shelter wherever he can. Fortnum’s greatest indignity is to be busy sniffing and suddenly a gust of wind will blow up his coat exposing his nether region to the elements.

The hounds year seven in September and officially reach middle age although we’re hoping that all the special measures will keep them healthy and mobile for many more years to come.

They will rarely quicken their pace at your request but in the blink of an eye will dash off to follow a scent or rush up to a stranger to say hello. You may call them incessantly to come to you but will appear at your side at lightening speed without being called the moment you have food in your hand. Sometimes you only get a raised eyebrow as a gesture of recognition that you are in their company but when they want a neck rub they’ll insistently paw at your leg or twist their neck around your hand until you give them the attention they demand.

Admittedly my basset hounds are long-suffering when it comes to me taking their photographs. Over time they have determinedly looked any other way but at me and a camera, except if I am dangling something to eat above my lens. But I tried both food and neck rubs as an incentive for a mini portrait session in the garden before I left home to travel to the UK and they stubbornly refused to sit where I could get the best light or pose nicely together. Mason showing me I was not part of their pack at all by washing Fortnum’s face.

So instead I have a set of photographs of unsmiling basset faces. These are the faces of bassets showing their defiance subtly as compliant but not complicit hounds. They are such ungrateful beasts who know exactly who holds the power.

Since then I’ve felt the weight of social media guilt. The thought of my ‘friends’ raising rolling their eye balls back at seeing yet another photograph of Fortnum and Mason made me stop my daily snaps of my beloved hounds. I steered clear of posting on Instagram and Twitter for a few days although still couldn’t resist scrolling through sneaking a peek at the beloved hounds who frequent the streams of #basset #bassethound #bassetlove on Instagram. There is a wonderful community of basset loving people sharing life with their hounds. There are plenty of hound comedy routines but mostly its lots of close ups of sleeping hounds complete with jowls, wrinkles and flailing paws. There are tales of woe that make me go hug my hounds a little bit tighter.

After a few days basset blogging dieting I’ve come to the conclusion that if other people get as much pleasure from seeing pictures of my hounds as I do being acquainted virtually with their hounds who am I to deny people that pleasure. So with apologies to my friends who may need to “unfriend” me on Facebook to avoid my basset obsession I’m back blogging today with a large overdose of hound photographs.

These photographs were taken over a month ago when our temperature sensitive bassets were struggling with the heat of our lingering summer.  They sum up our walking routine where their noses are to the ground as they swagger along swinging their ears. Usually Mason in front with Fortnum bringing up the rear, often reaching top basset speed to catch us up and then needing to lie somewhere cool to take in the view.  It was tough to edit out this story so I’m making up for the lack of basset posts in the last few days. So if you don’t like dogs, bassets or pet photographs best you look away to something else you might find more interesting now.

No doubt, the pace of life and the capabilities for modern communication far exceed our capacity and ability to consume it.  It’s an exciting time to be alive but with so many choices and options you can get paralysed by the options. Also, chasing down all the possibilities can leave you exhausted and desensitised to those things that really matter in life.

Last year I started to study for a Master’s Degree in Gastronomic Tourism.  Aside from all the fascinating perspectives of food – history, culture, communication, production and consumption, what I most learned was I don’t need another master’s degree in my life.  Admittedly the programme itself fell woefully short of my expectations in terms of quality of learning experience but mostly I found the study just too superficial.  You’d just start to get engrossed in a topic and it was time to move on to another.  Despite the wealth of possibilities for online collaboration and interaction, I was mostly studying on my own often not knowing whether I was on the right track or not.  My assessment marks suggest I was but high marks didn’t make up for a nagging dissatisfaction with the course itself.

So, without a backward glance I’m dropping out of the course.  It pains me to write those words as I hate to give up on things but I feel liberated now to continue my studies more independently.  Inspired by this book,  I’m still working on plans for how this will unfurl but I’m sure it will still involve plenty of time reading, writing and learning from online materials but without the deadlines that suck the joy out of learning.