Roo
Painting and story by Lehan Winifred Ramsay
Roo jumps the fence, lands in a completely different paddock. Can’t jump back cause of the way the trees have grown around the fence. Maybe if he went way up the hill to the other side of the scrub he could find a way back. He’s not really sure though if it’s really that he liked the other paddock better or that this paddock is just not what he’s used to. He jumped across without thinking about it too much. It was the only way he could get himself to jump, was to not think too much. The minute he landed he did think. Oh no. This was a mistake. I want to go back.
But Roo knows that back is not a solution. Back is a problem. There are a lot of things that make back a bad idea. Back to the other paddock says; not enough grass, not enough roos like himself, and that bitter wind that blows in from the north. So there’s here that doesn’t feel right, and back there that wasn’t right either.
There’s not much that can be done. Sure he could run back now. And he is a bit tempted. But this might be a good paddock, better than the other one. Leaving now would make it impossible to know. Leaving now isn’t smart. There isn’t anything smart that can be done to make things easier here either. Nothing but taking one little step and then another and another. The occasional hop.
Roo thinks back to his meeting with those Pigs people. T’was them who told me about this paddock, he thought. Made it sound a bit worth giving a try. They should all be around here somewhere. Something about a second birthday.
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 
Love Roo. We knew that. Wonderful story. The fable of the grass in the other paddock not looking greener comes alive in this fabulous tale I would love to see published as a children’s book, especially for adults to read to their children at bedtime and enjoy.
🙂
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Good insight shoe
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I gather that illustration is of one of those new fangled genetic hybrids, part pig, part kangaroo. You’ve captured its pinkness perfectly and I love the roo face.
Now you’re home it’s time to open up to all the possibilities that are already coming your way. This will be a good time for you. Creative, productive, energising; I will brook no argument and expect the results to grace the sty some time soon.
DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT allow the blues through your door. Get out and face the sun.
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I really need that Warrigal. I’ll try not to get the blues. I’m struggling a bit at the moment.
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How’s MacLean going Lehan? They had floods recently. My cousin lives on Woodford Island if you know where that is??
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I think Woodford Island got pointed out to me the other day. So far I’ve been taking short walks down to the town, to get some of my healthcare and stuff in order. Haven’t seen so much.
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I have never been there but my cousin says its beautiful.
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And how are you settling into your new ‘paddock’ Lehan? Should we maybe start to call you ‘Leanne’ now that you’re back in Oz? Or has ‘Lehan’ become part of you now?
🙂
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I changed my name to Lehan by deed poll. Now there are some paperwork bits and pieces that need to be changed too. I haven’t managed a 100% change, perhaps I never will. But to all intents and purposes, I am Lehan
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Okay Lehan… just thought I’d clarify that for the record! I had a feeling that in any case the name had become part of who you are by now…
🙂
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Thanks for the painting, Lehan. We had roos on the farm, but not here…I did not like them then when they were eating the precious grass of our alpacas (the drought years) but I curiously miss them now.
I’ll never miss the wombats though 🙂
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Alternative version:
Roo jumps the fence, lands in a completely different paddock. Goes and finds some grass to eat and suns himself.
“The elves seldom give unguarded advice, for advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise.” Gildor from Lord of the Rings
“Life is the living of it.” Pierre from War and Peace
P.S. I suppose you’re aware of Medicare eligibility issues.
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I am. When I came back from New Zealand I was mucked about for months on end and kid you not was asked to sign a statement I wasn’t going back to New Zealand to live (“ever”) .
I said, “Noooo, you’re kidding.”
Meaning, not, no I’m not going back to live in New Zealand but gee, that’s ridiculous.
The weeks turned into months. I got some condition, something minor but nevertheless enough to justify a visit to a doctor for a second time and decided to sort the matter, after various attempts. I telephoned to establish the Head Office telephone number, got someone who said I couldn’t speak to the person at the top, so I continued to enquire how I could get there, somehow I did and was asked was I “ever” going back to live in New Zealand, and explained (heated) I refused to make such a ridiculous assertion or sign any statement to that effect lest it cruel my future … by the end of the conversation we saw matters my way that I expected to receive the Medicare card by the end of the following week-fortnight. I did.
Distressing as I endured a similar experience in New Zealand where neither the New Zealand government or Australia would acknowledge me and I was for an interim ‘homeless’ in the wider sense of affiliation with nationality…for months on end.
Bureaucratic snivelling. I applied under New Zealand’s Freedom of Information for the documents relating to the matter at that end (as I intended to write the experience) and sorry, the paper work from the date to the next inclusive “cannot be found.”
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Not Freedom of Information. ‘Sho…. Freedom FROM information. I reckon the law should have an automatic payment to the inquirer when they say “X from a series of x-10 and x + 10 could not be found”
Cash for lying. Gee ALan Laws and John Jones get that ! No, I meant paying, not receiving ….
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