The deadliest, jelliest site ever. Brought to you by Niamh Shaw


A couple of weeks ago, The Outlaws and I went on a little day-trip to Lake Waitaki. Mother and Stepfather-In-Law, Sister and Boyfriend-In-Law and three brown dogs crammed into the car.

The journey was memorable for two reasons.

The first was meeting The Warrior at a cafe in Kurau, where we stopped for lunch pies. The Warrior punctuates his conversation with intermittent headbutts. Last time I saw him, at Sister-In-Law’s 40th party, he was so inebriated he made serious play (not that someone has to be drunk to put the moves on me – although it undoubtedly helps). The conversation went something like this:-

Warrior: Hi you’re <INDETERMINATE> nice I’m <INDETERMINATE> Warrior but I prefer to be known as <INDETERMINATE>.

Me: Um, yeah, we’ve met.

Warrior: We . . . we have? Oh . . . yeah! You’re the <INDETERMINATE>. From . . . from last night. He-ey! I had <INDETERMINATE> lovely time-

Me: I’m very pleased for you, but I think you have me confused with someone else.

Warrior: You’re . . . not . . . <INDETERMINATE>? From last night?

Me: Er. No. We met at Hampden Pub. New Year’s Eve.

Warrior: Not . . . last night?

Me: No. Oh hey, I’m going to go and talk to my husband.

Warrior: What? YOU HAVE A HUSBAND? I didn’t . . . you never said . . .

Me: Bye now.

In the cafe, I pretended not to notice him: no easy feat in a space the size of your average parking space.

The second reason was that Jed broadcasted nuclear farts the entire journey. By the time we arrived at the lake, my pooch and I were not the most popular members of the family.

I am still blown away (to clarify, I’ve moved on from farting) by how Jed looks at me as if I am the most awesome being in his little universe. I flatter myself this is due to more than just my status as a sophisticated bone delivery system.

My puppy is pretty loyal (although said loyalty is admittedly concentrated by a baggie full of chicken liver). But when it comes down to the wire: a desperate choice beween me and a mouldy old termite-infested stick?

Yeah, it’s the stick.

Every time.


Jed fetching Stick.



Jed’s audience, speechless with admiration at his stick-retrieval abilities.



Ok: where is it?



Two brown dogs: Jed and sister Lottie


Comments on: "It’s either me or The Stick" (1)

  1. Stunningly lovely, gorgeously delicious!

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