No Dogs, Please!

I loved Florida. I love the warmth of the sun, the water, the beaches, the golf courses...the escape of it all. The people are ok too but it was hard to find an actual Floridian. Actually I don't think I ever did. Most were "come from aways" as Newfoundlanders fondly describe non-Newfies.

But there was one thing that perplexed me while I was there: the no dog signs that people had allowed to proliferate in one particular community. Now, I can understand people don't want dog excrement on their lawns - who does? But why in the world would you put up a painted wooden cut-out sign that in shape, size and demeanor looks exactly like a dog making a sizeable deposit? And why would you put it right on your front lawn where you and everyone else has to look at it? Every. Single. Day. These offensive signs had proliferated like mushrooms in one community we visited. Either it shows appalling bad taste or simply no taste whatsoever. Trouble is, I don't think we can blame the Floridians...this one is sticking like you know what to the "come from aways"!

April Summer Day

As per usual, Canada has gone from winter-almost-spring to full-fledged summer! In the space of one day, people have shed their parkas and jumped into shorts, for cryin' out loud! Everyone has to wear sunglasses just to compensate for the brilliant white skin being exposed everywhere.

People also have this overwhelming urge to rake (ok, let's be honest...scrape) the cruddy carcas of winter off their lawns even while there's still big gobs of snow, for cryin' out loud!

The streets of Ottawa went from deserted (I know cuz I walk the streets every day except on weekends and no, I'm not a "street-walker" of that ilk!)...to over-populated in the space of a few hours, for cryin' out loud. And everybody, I mean everybody who wasn't walkin', bikin' or sitting around on the stairs of L'Esplanade Laurier eating hotdogs and/or fries, were in their cars cruisin'. For cryin' out loud! We are such a winter-overdosed population! We're so pathetic.

I'm tired. Walked old Spencer for an hour today. BTW, he looks like new Spencer. Ron and Pauline finally got him groomed. I guess the groomer finally had her baby and is back in business. In the meantime, he looks like a new dog, almost puppy-like. I hardly recognized him. He must have lost 10 lbs of fur! But he remembered me alright. Nothing wrong with that little guy's memory!

Hubby's watched hockey all night punctuated with the odd bit of golf. Geez, I know I'm not truly Canadian because - wait for this blasphemous statement: I can't stand hockey!!!! So I retreat to cyberspace, read emails, research a little of this and that, post this and try to fend Dolly off from eating my Persian Noon bread whilst I chug a Corona! Yes, that crazy cat is trying to eat my bread. I've never seen her do that in her entire 19 years. Must be meno-paws!!!

Good night, all. Gotta try to keep my eyes open whilst I watch Juno. No, not the Canadian Juno Awards, the movie: Juno. Then off to bed with the window OPEN...who can believe it? OPEN, April 19! This craziness must have something to do with the full moon. Aaaarooooooo, werewolves of White Lake!!!!

Never Say Die, Dolly

Ok...this is the real reason why my Mistress has sooo much trouble blogging!

If I really beg, she sometimes stops typing to give me a chin rub...

Yeah, that's it...yeah, right there....lower, over, over....ahhhhhh. Oops, drooling a little, heh, heh...feels so good!

Thanks! I needed that!

Cell: Hell's Bells

I've been living a sheltered existence out here in the country. Birds don't walk around with cell phones; nor do dogs and cats. Retirees are pretty good at avoiding them too. We like to listen to birdsong, creeks gurgling, the wind in the trees, and the water lapping the dock. But now that I'm back downtown on a regular basis, it amazes me how many people walk around with a cell glued to their ear, some even have handy little ear lugs. Not to mention the idiots driving (or attempting to drive) with them.

But I wonder...who are they talking to? Is it business, friendship, shoring up relationships, gossiping, getting instructions to pick up a loaf of bread? How can people be so engaged? Why do they want to be so connected? I followed a woman down the street today as we were headed in the same direction and happened to be walking at the same pace. I couldn't help but overhear the entire one side of the conversation. She kept looking over her shoulder at me as though I were eavesdropping (well, I was but purely involuntarily) or as though I should pass her. She talked and walked for 2 blocks before we parted ways.

I have a cell phone but I don't give out the number. It's intended for emergencies or the odd "Why are you late?" kind of call. I don't want to be called. I don't relate to people who do. Maybe I don't have enough friends or family...now, that's a stretch...I'd hate to start counting! I wonder if it's a sign I am finally getting old-fashioned. Ironically, I was voted Miss Telephone in high school because of the amount of time I spent on the phone but times have changed. Now I relish silence. Now, I relish time to think. Now, I want to control how I spend my time because I value it so. I don't want to be a slave to a machine. Oh, excuse me....gotta go blog now!

Memère

I've been thinking of Memère, my deceased mother-in-law, lately. She had little sayings that seem to have stuck with me. For example, she always said, "Never two but three." Usually in reference to people passing on. Well, it's been exactly like that lately. First we received news a former neighbour had lost his battle with cancer. Then our play's director lost his aged Dad. And like the proverbial 2nd shoe dropping, it wasn't long before we learned of the death of a friend's sister whom we'd known for years. Never two but three. All will be missed.

After Memère's sister, Cora, died, if anyone was sick but, more particularly, cut and bleeding, she told them to think or pray to C'coon - Cora's nick name. Cora, from on high, would staunch the bleeding. Well, sure enough everyone in the family would incite C'Coon's name at anything greater than a pin-prick. I think the family's attitude was "Well...it's worth a try." I hope Pierre who is recovering from heart surgery is giving Cora some thought these days so his sutures heal quickly!

Then she'd say if you cut your hair outdoors, birds would line with nests with your hair which in turn would cause you headaches. Now, not too many of us cut or have our hair cut outdoors so there's little risk...but I found it one of Memère's oddities and often wondered where that one came from. Perhaps the children got the scissors out one day and she was prompted to come up with a good one. Who knows?

Memère was amongt the last of her kind: a staunch Catholic of French Canadian descent. No birth control for her, she birthed fourteen children. It's hard to imagine but it's true: I married her 14th child. Suffering what no mother should, she endured the loss of several children, losing one to a childhood disease, another to a car accident, another to cancer, and the loss of her husband when she still had children to see through to adulthood. She managed by sheer determination, strong faith, an incredible work ethic, and the help of her many children. She could bake bread unlike any other. Everything she cooked was cooked with love and loved for its marvelous flavour. She loved cards and gambling, even travelling once to the gambling mecca of the world - Vegas! She had a ball.

There are now 7 adult children left, only half of her nest. All good people, they've passed Memère's values on to their own children. And her voice echoes still when we hear her favourite sayings oft repeated.

Spring is definitely here!

Spring announces itself in so many ways. The birds at the feeders are usually chickadees, bluejays and the ubiquitous woodpecker swaying on the suet feeder. Suddenly, hordes of grackles appear. Robins flit about as do some other as yet unidentifiables. Crows are seen flying overhead, even seagulls. Then we see the Canada geese on the fly yet again even though the fields are full of snow and the ice is still on the water, be it river or lake.

Dolly-cat, as I've said, is struggling mightily with her "spring fever" - sudden spurts of energy drive her pounding, bounding down our long hallway (she sounds like a mini-pony race); she swerves and verves along the edge of the patio door, the verticals flying out of her way! Incredible action and speed for a geriatric cat! It's really a miracle. If you could see her getting off her chair every day in slow motion, you'd think she was half-way dead. But no, there's lots of spice in the old girl yet!

I leave the patio door open for her; it's so sunny and warm. Where can she go? And as we all know: rules are rules and no one is supposed to leave their cat on the loose! Heaven forbid!

The stone deck is still surrounded by snow as is the hot tub. But she finds a way, making herself thin and crying a little in complaint as she brushes in between the squeeze-space twixt snow bank and hot tub. Where in the world is she going? I drop down to see...the snow has melted a foot of yellowed grass along the south side of the house and she's headed for her favourite spot: the cat nip plant.

She pauses along the way, to look or maybe sniff at the purple crocuses which are already in bloom. But alas, the cat nip is barely breaking through the ground. She sniffs the budding plant longingly, then returns - reluctantly - at my call. Yes, spring is definitely here.

Sunning deer

To help pass the time during our daily hour-long commute, I look for deer. There's a place just outside the city where the highway threads its way through a limestone rock cut. A railroad cuts under the road and wraps its way around the outer perimeter of the National Equestrian Centre. In the large open fields fringed with sparse woods are snow-covered jumps for the horses who'll be challenged by them once the snow melts.

Often, I'll see deer, one, sometimes two, standing on the railway tracks. Nose to nose, they look like they're conversing. More often, I watch for, in the weak spring sunshine, a deer, her legs folded under her, sitting in utter stillness on a large plate of limestone, watching the traffic go by and enjoying the little warmth the sun is starting to provide. All God's critters, including us, like their creature comforts. She watches us, but I wonder how many people notice her up there.

The other day she was nibbling on some sumacs at the base of her "seat". Again, I almost missed her, she blends in so well. Her coat is the colour of the wet limestone and is very thick. It's amazing that thousands of car are zooming by, oblivious to this little bit of nature 20 feet from the road who has the potential to be a danger to us, and of course, us to her.