Down Island

Since moving to Vancouver Island, I have done a lot of exploring and had many day trips. I have gone to beaches, walked through mountains, scavenged, adventured, seen wildlife, picked berries, and taken a bundle of pictures. Despite my travels, there is one trip I look forward to above all the others. The one when Oliver comes home.

As you may know, I have joint custody of my dog. A lot of people have a hard time comprehending how this works. Well, my ex and I both love Oliver so much that neither of us have the heart to never see him again. Not that it would happen like that, anyhow. Truthfully, I love my ex and consider us to be friends. Good friends, in fact, if not great friends. How he feels is a different matter altogether. It's hard ending a relationship and I think we are incredibly lucky we've come out the other side able to hangout, share a dog, and poke fun of who we were, are, and who we will become.

It's amazing to think there are people out there who can't get their act together enough to be civil for their children's sake, let alone their dog's. Alas, I am a different sort of person, and clearly so is my ex. While joint custody of Oliver is great, because it shows there is an ability to love after loss and not be a childish ass, it's also really hard. When he's not around, I'm slightly off. I mean, I have the Big Guy, and he's amazing to be with. He's clumsy, makes me laugh, and is the biggest Mama's boy you've ever met. We have great moments together, are the best of friends, and consider each other family.

But he's not my first born. Yes, I love them both unconditionally, but Oliver holds the softest of spots in my heart. I held him as a puppy. Named him. We have been through tough times together. He's grumpy and hilarious. Endearing and annoying. A huge attitude with the most velveteen ears. No, really, the Little Guy is made of silk. Anyone who pets him has to comment on how soft his fur is. And I really miss him when he's not here. Because for small dog, he takes up a seriously large amount of space in my heart.

Anyhow, today I went down island and got the Little Man. He's back home. Right this minute his fuzzy little bottom is nudged up against my arm and he's snoring away. So, yeah, I'm pretty happy right now.

This Little Lady

Yesterday, there was this amazingly beautiful dog in the trunk of a car out front of my work. I know how alarming that statement is. The trunk was open and the dog had access to the entire car. From where I was sitting, inside my place of employment, perched behind the desk, I watched her standing there, panting and looking incredibly uncomfortable with the situation. Her owners were nowhere to be found, but I figured they were at the restaurant next door because this actually happens a fair bit. The frustrating part being, there is actually an outside dining area where dogs are welcome. 

Anyhow, this little lady had nowhere to go. And no shade. Obviously very well trained, she was watching the door to the restaurant, standing in the trunk. Just waiting. Now, I get the owner probably thought he was being responsible by leaving the trunk open, figuring she couldn't suffocate because she wasn't physically trapped inside the car. 

Except, here's the thing - dogs can't be in direct sunlight for an hour. It can still give them heat stroke. Dogs may like to lie out in the sun, basking in the glory of le soleil, but they often seek shade when they've had enough. And yesterday, the temperature hit a stifling 27 degrees, which felt more like 32, and there I was watching this dog panting, growing more agitated, getting up on the rim of the trunk like she's going to jump out, and looking extremely stressed out. 

Now, I have a healthy respect for all animals. They are, after all, animals and, just like people, their situations can made them grumpy, or protective. It was with this in mind that I decided to give this dog some water. I figured, if she growls and bites me, so be it. I didn't want her perishing of exhaustion right in front of me. So, armed with a bowl of water, I went out to meet her. As soon as she saw me, she jumped out of the trunk and came right over. Not a drop of water was left behind. Clearly, the little lady was thirsty. 

And she was also so lovely. A total sweetheart. After petting her for awhile, I let her into the salon where she hung out, going from one person to the next, seeking out love. When her owner came out to find his dog missing, I quickly let him know where she was and why. He then put her back in the trunk and returned to the restaurant to finish his meal. I have no doubt he probably cared about his dog. He just wasn't very bright. 

First of all, it's far too hot for a dog to be left in a car, even if it is open. That sort of direct heat is uncomfortable for anyone, including a dog covered in fur. Secondly, there are a lot of people who are shy when it comes to dogs, especially one hanging out on its own. With no owner around, what is someone to do if the dog growls or barks, or jumps out of the trunk? If you have a pet, consider them like a child. You wouldn't leave your child in the car unattended, so why is it acceptable to do the same thing with a dog? The answer is: it isn't acceptable. 

Oh, don't worry. I didn't leave her out there in the trunk. I brought her back inside where there was air conditioning, food, water and lots of pets. She stayed with us until her owner finished his meal in the cool restaurant. If you were wondering, no, he didn't say thank you. 

The point of this is to shed light on the reality of the heat on our pets, but also to introduce you to Kilo. A most beautiful dog. She must have had some blue-nose pitbull in her, but a cross with something else as well. She was gentle as a lamb. Quiet. And most definitely one of the most well-behaved pups I've ever had the pleasure of falling in love with. Seriously, I don't condone stealing other people's pets, but I would have taken this one in a heart beat. Just beautiful.  

So, I'm Sitting Here

Trying to come up with something to write. Some days are harder than others. A blog a day seems like a good idea (not really) but on those bone weary dog tired days it's hard to come up with a subject, let alone write anything worthy of reading. Just between the two of us, I sometimes half-ass things. I don't really know what that means. No, really. What's the difference from half assing and full assing. I mean, I know it comes down to the amount of effort put in, but where did this colloquialism come from?

In regards to blog topics, many a things are running through my head. Mindy Kaling. Hitting the proverbial wall. Snacking. Powering through a less than stellar day. Knitting. Being appreciated. Crappy gifts. These all could be good, if I were in the right frame of mind, feeling witty and whatnot, but these topics aren't really striking my fancy. (What is a fancy? And why does it need striking?)

This is when I notice I'm not alone in this room. Dixon is with me. And he's up to no good. He's half on the coffee table and sitting on the couch. And he's pulling a box of Hot Tamales closer to him, inch by inch, ever so slowly. His little teeth and flappy gums have the edge of the red box. There is such concentration on his face.

I am sitting right here. Does he not see me here? Am I invisible? Does he think this is okay? What is his next step?

Last time I checked he wasn't allowed on the coffee table and we never let him eat candy. In fact, I am pretty certain the last time he ate a bunch of food off the coffee table was a year and a half ago when he overindulged on a bunch of Christmas goodies when no one was looking. Mostly chocolate. But there was some severe scolding.

I thought he learned his lesson.

When I asked, "What exactly are you doing?"

He jumped. Like he hadn't factored into the equation getting caught. It kind of seems as if he forgot I was sitting here. I have no doubt in my mind he would have eaten the whole box. Chances are I would have been waking up at four in the morning to let him outside.

Dogs are the best.

For The Love Of Dogs

It isn't like me to seriously get serious. Not often. There are a lot of posts on this old blog that touch on serious subjects, but there's always a hint of humour, a scoop of sarcasm, and a little lightheartedness. Unfortunately, there isn't anything funny about the subject on the docket today. I've been mulling it over and there's no kind way of saying it. So, I must tackle it with facts and heated passion alone.

I fucking loathe people who leave their dogs locked in a car on a hot day.

The other day, I watched a dog panting his little lungs off while the owner dined at the restaurant next door. While he (the owner) was indulging in eggs Benedict and a nice cold glass of orange juice, this little dog went from alert to lethargic. And it wasn't the hottest day, either. There was a cool breeze. The windows were rolled down a crack. He had food and water. But this isn't enough. Even if there is a breeze, the sun is pounding down on that metal car.

This went on for an hour. When the dog went from normal panting to the harsh open mouthed panting of a dog on his way to expiration, just watching wasn't an option. Except, this was when the owner came out. He didn't want to listen to me. He didn't want to give me the time of day, until I told him I had his license and would report him for animal cruelty if he didn't listen.

Here's what I told him:

• Dogs regulate their body heat differently from humans. If we sit in a car hot car for ten minutes, we may just be 'uncomfortable' but a dog could die in this short amount of time. 
• A dog pants in order to cool down and sweating through their paws, not over their body. The harder they pant in the car, the more oxygen they use. If your dog doesn't suffer from heatstroke, they can and will likely suffocate.
• If the temperature outside is 22°C/72°F, then the temperature inside a car can reach 47°C/117°F.
• Some dogs are more prone to heatstroke, brain damage and death than others like dogs with short snouts, muscular dogs, really young puppies, very old dogs, long haired breeds and dogs that are on medication or are sick. 
• Leaving a window open isn't enough. Research has shown cars with windows cracked still reach the same deadly temperatures. 
• Laws are changing and leaving a dog in a hot car is now considered animal cruelty. 

I asked this irresponsible owner why he didn't use the outdoor patio at the restaurant and take his dog with him. He said he didn't know there was a patio, but it was right out front. I suspect he didn't want to sit out in the muggy heat and eat his breakfast. The owner said he lived on Hornby and what was he supposed to do 'leave the dog at home'? Yes, I told him. I think the dog would have been better off at home than suffocating in his car. 

In the end, I said, "What's the worst that could have happened?" 

He said he didn't know. 

So, I answered for him. "Your dog could have died. Would your breakfast have been worth that price?" 

No. He said it wouldn't have been worth it. 

There is no excuse anymore. Everyone knows not to leave their dog in the car on a warm day. Still, thousands of people do it daily. They can't leave their animal at home. It's part of their family. But I don't think there's anyone out there who loves their dogs more than I do and I don't bring them with me if I'm going into a shop or out for lunch. Why? Because I'm not a complete moron. 

So, yes, I fucking loathe people who leave their dogs in the car on warm days, let alone hot days. Actually, I don't especially like anyone who leaves their dog in their car for extended periods of time at all. There, I said it. Personally, people who do this aren't fit to be animal owners and should have them taken away, along with their kids, because if they don't know how to properly treat a dog then they certainly don't have the know-how to raise a child. 

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Sadder

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I can't say if that's for certain. Sidekick is on the mainland doing guest spotting things. I'm here, at home, with the boys. Writing blogs, eating salads, and getting annoyed when I get kicked off Netflix because Jay decides he wants to watch some crime show. I mean, he's super nice for letting me filch the privileged, but come on! I was just in the middle of an awesome Supernatural episode.

Anyhow, I miss the Sidekick.

It's not a dependency things, either. I love being on my own and cooking whatever I want for dinner, watching crap television, knitting, writing, being a better internet friend to all my interbuddies. Still, I miss his presence. Don't get me wrong, the house isn't quite without him. It's about the same level of annoyingly noisy. He's not a very loud man but the other boys make the most racket. What with all their barking, sighing, growling, farting and snoring - they are a very loud bunch.

Sidekick isn't. He's quiet. And he moves through the house without trumpets or useless chatter.Still, for a slender man, he has a big presence. He takes up a lot of space, while taking up very little space. And it's different when he's not here. I suppose if I was in my own home and not OUR home, then I wouldn't be so displaced. But this is our environment and it only feels right when we are both in it. At least to me.

Guess I am just saying I miss him. Am I allowed to do that.

Five Random Things

My brain isn't working properly. Too much on it. Last night it started thinking right when I was going to bed. Just clicked in and the wheels were turning. Now, my eyes are tired. Not enough sleep, I think.

So, I'm coping out on a thoughtful post and just going to write five truths about life as I see it today.

1. Money is the biggest stress ever. The amount of people brooding over their finances is staggering. This world is so consumer driven and designed to keep us in debt and unhappy. We all hope to win the lottery, but the chances of that are so slim. It's sad, isn't it? Being so preoccupied with money, letting it control our lives, when we really can't take it with us. All these things, our homes, our cars, televisions, clothes, toys, none of it is coming with us when we leave this place. So, why not let it go in advance?

I am thinking about doing some spring cleaning this weekend. It's going to be like the movie The Purge, but instead of committing crimes and getting rid of people who annoy me, I'm going to be downsizing my book collection and donating clothes I don't wear.

2. Life isn't easy. It's hard and defeating. Things are constantly up in the air. Even if you are happy enough and working your hardest, there are bumps in the road. Trials. Pains. Heartaches. And sometimes it feels like it's just too much to handle, you know? Like you're just waiting for the good parts and they never really come. Everyone I know has gone through it. The what is this all about feeling is a hard one to shake. Sometimes I'd love to say we are all here for a purpose, but that's just wishful thinking. Maybe this is all a mistake.

I think I'm taking things too seriously.

3. Pets make things easier. Oliver is sitting on my right side here. He's sleeping. But even in the toughest of times, he can pull a smile from me. I'm glad I have these boys. They remind me there are great things, even when it seems like there aren't. Wet noses, soft ears, and cuddles when you need them the most. It's nice to be needed. Wanted. Sometimes I think this is what people with children feel like about their kids. Like they are a reason to keep on keeping on.

My dogs are my children. Thank God they don't speak English. Oliver is already mouthy enough as it is.

4. The best way to stay healthy and happy is to maintain a positive outlook on life. This is easier said than done. It's hard to constantly keep your chin up, especially when you feel as though you are floundering. Everything will be okay is a lovely way to think, but believing it is another matter altogether. We know other people have it worse. We know life isn't all that bad. But when you're down, you're down. And sometimes it's hard pulling yourself up the mountain again when it feels like you just trudged up the bloody thing not that long ago.

Don't worry, I am not thinking about becoming a motivational speaker.

5. Writing distracts me from life. This is probably why I love it so much.

We all need distractions sometimes. Or to stay focused. I'm not too sure which right now.

Dildos & Sore Feet

There's this guy I'm head over heels in love with. He's utter perfection. Just adorable. Kind. Gentle. A bit hyperactive at times. A gorgeous personality. Clumsy. Mischievous. But there's a bit of an issue. You see, he's gotten fat. Now, don't look at me like that. I love a little extra something-something, but the winter months have not been kind. And yes, I feel terrible saying this. I mean, how can anyone say such things about such a magnificent creature?

So, I haven't. I mean, there's know way I can tell him he's chubby. When we go out in public and people call him a 'brute' or comment on how 'massive' he is, I tell him they are talking about his personality. Not about his size. I always take the time to tell him he is beautiful. And just the perfect the way he is. But the truth is, he needs to slim down. The even more heart breaking truth is I have also suffered the past couple months. I too am out of shape. There are no excuses, even though I have plenty I can try to pawn off as the reason why my thighs are meeting a little more forcefully than normal.

A couple months ago I was doing so well. We were going for walks every day. Hikes in the mountains. Jaunts around the block. We were at one with nature, except that asshole dog who attacked us that time and scared us into not wanting to go out. Hence the hibernation. Anyhow, I have resolved to get us both outdoors more, not only because of the weight issue, but because it's detrimental to the health of my grey matter for me to check in with nature, sink my feet into the earth, breathe the sweet forest air, and give props to Mother Nature for her most excellent and creative ways. 

Today, Dixon and I made the trek into Royston, to the beach. It's about 7.5 kilometres there, then we had to walk all the way back, so 15 kilometres both ways. It didn't take too long, really. Less than three hours. Worth every single minute. When we got to the beach, Dixon walked in the water and happened to pull me in with him. Wet shoes and an hour and half walk home didn't leave me all that enthusiastic, but there were no options. It's not like they'd let Dixon ride the bus, so I was determined not to let it ruin my experience.  

While we were walking into Royston, I stopped to take a picture of skunk cabbage which, despite its name, is actually quite beautiful. So, I crouched down to get the shot, steady my hand, try to ignore the dog pulling me this way and that, and I think I got a pretty good shot. 

  

But as I was getting back to my feet, I saw it in the water. Flesh coloured. Long. Thick. Alone. And I laughed out loud, because what else is there to do in that situation. Oh, and I took a picture, because who would believe me if I didn't get photographic evidence?

Yep, that's right, in the creek at the side of the road was a ten inch dildo. Just sitting there. No owner around. Of course, I got to thinking about who this could have belonged to and how it got here, in the middle of nowhere, at the side of the road, in the water. Still, the bigger question I had was, how many other abandoned dildos are out there in the world?

I didn't touch it. I left it there, hoping it would make someone else laugh.

Granted, you might be thinking this was the highlight of our walk, but it wasn't. I love going out exploring. Every time I take a new trail, I get excited over what I might find. The whole way down, I walked the roadway, so there wasn't any twisting forest trails, but the nature was there. On either side of us, the water rushing, the scent of evergreens and fresh rain. As the day progressed, the drizzle stopped, the grey sky parted and the sun came out to play. And I found these train tracks. Whenever I cross a set, I think about all the trains that used to run on them, the things they carried, the people who worked them, when they were laid.

Even though we are both out of shape, both packing around a few extra pounds, we made it to the beach. We got down there in about an hour and a half. No one was there. It was just the two of us. Sure, we didn't stay long, but we set a goal, or I did for both of us, and we stuck to it.

The beach was stunning. The tide was out. Little puddles held sea life. Rocks were slick with algae and seaweed. We tasted sea salt on the air. Wind ruffled our hair. Off to one side there were these shipwrecked vessels, all rusted and rotten. They were too far out for us to get to in order to explore, but they looked so neat standing there against the backdrop of the land and water. 

On the other side, just openness. No restrictions. No rules.

Our journey home proved to be a bit painful, for both of us. I could tell by how slow Dixon was moving and his frequent stops to drink water in the creek that he was feeling the burn. As for myself, my ass and thighs hurts, but it's that great hurt, the one telling you you're doing something right. The pain that makes you feel alive. On our return walk, I found myself looking in the creek more and thinking about how such odd things strike me as beautiful. There was this grass in the water and it was bending with the current, as it always does, but the way it was folding over and moving with the rush of water struck me as so pretty.

This picture doesn't really do it justice. You're just going to have to take my word for gospel. The grass in the water was lovely, okay?

Anyway, my feet are sore, but the walk was totally worth it. And I'm pretty sure the big guy feels the same way. It's nice I have these places to explore and the time to spend walking for three hours. Sometimes it gets away from me, but I really do live a very nice life.

For Shiggles

I use the word shiggles every now and again. It's shit and giggles. Shiggles. For shiggles. It might make me feel a bit more gangster. You know, this suburban white chick in her adorable dresses and adorkable glasses.

This afternoon, I took some photos with Dixon for shiggles. Instead of posting about death and sadness, or moroseness and being tired, I've decided to touch on something I adore. How my guy, the big oaf, my Doofus, the hilariously clumsy fool that he is, doesn't mind taking selfies with me. In fact, I think he kind of likes it.

Here is how we spent the evening.

It's all love. All the time.

Best Way To Start The Day

One of my most favourite things is the ability to look at a situation from another point of view. I'm not talking about 'walk a mile in my shoes' sort of thing. I'm talking about simply standing back and seeing the scene through the eyes of someone else.

This morning, I saw the world through my dog's eyes.

It was the best day ever for him.

Dixon couldn't have come up with a better way to the start the day.

The Sidekick didn't agree, though.

It was a terrible way to start the day.

Why?

Because he dropped all the dog food on the kitchen floor.

It. Went. Everywhere.

And he cussed loudly, and left in a huff.

But Dixon.

Oh, Dixon couldn't believe his good fortune. It was his birthday all over again!

Tail wagging. Ears at the ready. Jumping around. Looking at me with those big brown eyes. And I saw it written all over his face.

"BEST DAY EVER!"

It made me laugh. I mean, I held it together until the Sidekick promptly removed himself from the house in search of coffee. But as soon as that door closed, I laughed and let Dixon relish in the kibble strewn across the kitchen.

Don't get me wrong. I understand the frustration of a morning not going your way. I've dropped enough boxes of spaghetti noodles to sympathize with my Sidekick. But Dixon's face. The utter joy and excitement there. It erased even the slightest annoyance I may have had over cleaning it up. Because I did sweep the kibble up, off the counters, from under the stools, and actually gave the boys their breakfast in a bowl.

Still, I am ever grateful for the ability to see the world through other people's, and creatures', eyes. I guess some people call that perspective.

A New Beginning

There is nothing more invigorating than a blank page. A fresh start. This new beginning.

And I'm not just talking about starting a new book, even though that really is one of the best feelings in the world. Until you reach about ten thousand words and realize you have no idea where the thing is heading.

It's a new year. People will be making resolutions. Trust me, my Facebook feed is already overwhelmed with how many people will be changing this year.

I will no longer be calling this resolutions. Let's just say what they really are. Tasks. Jobs. Chores. Because people don't like doing them. In fact, if I may be so bold, it seems people hate doing them.

It's always the same three things, too. Eat healthier, quit smoking and exercise. These are the most important changes people can think of at this time of year. While it is all fine and dandy that you want to be the best you that you can be, I think things need to start on the inside. With the heart. No, I am not talking about cholesterol. I am talking about love.

Just be nicer. Sweeter. Kinder. Lovelier.

And maybe patienter. (I totally didn't think that was a word!)

I guarantee if you drop the negativity and woe is me attitude, if you leave behind the regrets, what-ifs, and blame placing, you will notice a difference in all facets of your life. Inside and outside. And it will make the world a better place. Just put the drink down and do a good deed, big or small, it doesn't matter. Goodness begets goodness.

I'm not saying your non-smoking, skinnier self won't make Earth more enjoyable, and perhaps lengthen your life, I'm just saying you should mind your manners and stop moaning about how horrible your life is, especially on Facebook. I get tired of hiding your whiny status updates.

Really, in the grand scheme of things, how bland your meal at the Swiss Chalet was means very little to me. To put it bluntly, it registers a big fat zero on the what's note worthy scale. And we also don't need weather updates. One, a lot of us probably don't live near you and, if we do, we know what the weather is already like. Complaining about it won't change it. Last time I checked, Mother Nature wasn't on your Facebook. And if she was, she'd just laugh at you.

Oh, and you don't need fireworks and a noise maker to make this happen.

Every day is a blank page. A fresh start. The new beginning you've been so desperately craving.

Now, onto more important things. Remember how, two posts ago, I said I was entertaining the idea of taking note of one thing I am grateful for each and every day of this year. Well, it's a green light on that one. So, let's kick this thing off in true Tyson fashion with my dog. Oliver.

Yeah, that's right. I am grateful for this guy:

He's a jerk some of the time, but for the most part he's a lovely little guy with a face I just can't get over. My Instagram is riddled with pictures of him. He makes my life a lot happier. And every time I wake up next to him, the day starts on the right foot.

So there, day one, done. 364 more to go.

This may have been a mistake.

Oh Man - Day 16

Last night, I watched the remake of The Omen.

Here is my review:

Title: The Omen
Year: 2006
Synopsis: A remake of the 1976 horror classic The Omen (1976), an American official realizes that his young son may literally be the devil incarnate.

Tagline: His day will come.

After all these years I've come to the conclusion I don't like The Omen. Not the original from 76 or the remake of 2006. It's just a bad movie. And I know it's heralded as a classic, but it really isn't very good. I can't even pinpoint what it is I dislike so much. Probably because we've seen it before. Is this not just a blend of The Exorcist and Rosemary's Baby? Both of which are far superior films. 

In both movies, the slow build is almost agonizing to watch. Nothing really happens. A lot is hinted at. And the creaking wheel on a tricycle is supposed to be scary. I must have missed the memo. It takes about 3/4 of the film to actually get to any action, but by that point you're so board that they could kill Damien and you wouldn't give a care because you can't stand any of the characters. Or maybe that's just me. Like Julia Stiles and Liev Schreiber couldn't act in this movie. Granted, I am not a huge Julia fan, but Liev, I love Sabretooth! But that's beside, even then, most of the action and suspense in The Omen is delivered through the dreams of the mother. What a cop out! 

Both of the fathers from the original and remake are annoying. The mothers weak and kind of crazy. Priests are erratic and don't offer enough evidence of their claim to convince. And the fact that everyone who is associated with the anti-christ is marked is far-fetched. Something else that drove me nuts, the dog. Why are dogs always these snarling snapping balls of fur in movies? Especially horror movies! 

There is the bones of a good movie here. It just so happens the flesh over said bones is rotten. To put it simply, the acting is stilted in both, plot is thin and watered down, movie generally lack luster and boring. I honestly think that this was such a success because it capitalized off the gore it displayed. Some of the deaths in this are cited in horror movie blogs as ground breaking, so I suppose it does in some ways deserve its cult classic standing. But I honestly think the only reason it was ever popular was because horror exploded in the seventies as cinema and the audience embraced their desire to be scared. 

Then they went and remade it. But that's irrelevant in this day and age, because there are far scarier, gorier movies, that actually have good actors and keen plots. 

A truly good movie stands the test of time. 

This sadly isn't one of them. Neither will the remake. 

Just pass on The Omen.