Swagger vs. T-1000.

May 2-4 Saturday was like any other day, except for the fact that the infamous Apocalypse was to happen, but alas we were all fooled. Anyway, it was a beautiful sunny day that started out with a delicious breakfast on my deck, sun shining and birds chirping. Happy me.

After about 2 hours of lounging, my dog started getting ants in his pants, fidgety and grumpy...it was time to take him to the park for some good old tennis ball throwing.

For the past week and a half or so, my dog has had spring fever. The symptoms he's displaying are the following: not walking properly on the leash and being distracted by every flower, blade of grass, squirrel, bee...everything. He has cut me off twice now, sending me into a tizzy as I half trip/jump over him to avoid falling flat on my face. Also included in spring fever symptoms: excessive peeing on stuff outside. Because everything smells so yummy, Swagger wants to claim it for himself so he pees on it. He owns half the neighborhood...even the large concrete fountain in the community square at the end of my street. It's his. He also has heightened selective hearing, which is actually an ongoing occurrence throughout the year but spring time is extra special for him and he pays more attention to pebbles on the sidewalk than he does to me. Sometimes when I'm telling him something, like sit or heal, he does a fake yawn and pretends like he's tired and can't hear me. The last thing that Swagger's spring fever syndrome bring on is his high level of male dog displays. As in...his lipstick. Ew. He's just so damn happy with the weather that whenever he sits down, pop goes the weasel and there's the lipstick. In public too, like on street corners and in the subway. It's embarrassing and there's nothing I can do about it but walk on.

Yesterday was the first time his spring fever was truly at it's peak. We had been in the dog park for about half an hour when Peanuts came along and stole Swagger's heart. She's about half the size of Swagger and a real firecracker. They were running at full speed and all the humans were delighted at the exercise they were getting. Then they just kept on running...in a straight line towards the top of the park. I called out his name in a nonchalant way, usually he does a wide U-turn and comes back...but no. This time, he came to a screeching halt (as did Peanuts), turned and looked at me for about 5 seconds as I called his name, and then he bolted in the opposite direction alongside Peanuts. He ran for his life that little bugger did, across Logan Avenue and into the maze of streets they call Riverdale. I could hear car horns honking and people yelling. Peanuts' owner jumped up and started running as did I, in pursuit of our rogue dogs. I'm a jogger and not a runner but yesterday was different. I took off like the speed of light, left my flip flops in the dust and ran Terminator 2 style.

I ran up the hill, across the street and had people point me in the right direction. Peanuts' dad was far behind, so I was yelling for both  dogs, and just for the record, "Peanuts" sounds very close to penis when you're yelling it at the top of your lungs while running. I got to the point where I didn't know which direction they had gone, and the people on the sidewalks hadn't seen them. My heart exploded and the anxiety washed over me. I got tears in my eyes as images of the worst came to mind. All I could think of was the busy Danforth and how many cars there were up there. Peanuts' dad caught up to me and said something along the lines of "I don't know why your dog made Peanuts leave the park", and I almost poked his eyes out but there was no time for that.

I walked the streets of Riverdale for about 20 minutes when I heard the jingle of a dog collar. I looked up the street and there he was, my big sorry ass black dog walking at a slow pace towards me, his head hanging low and is tail down. He knew how much shit he was in, but I knew that this was no time for getting angry. It was too late though, he could sense my anxiety and anger and he turned around and started heading up the street again. Normally I wouldn't actually run after my dog in the hopes of catching him, but I broke into my T-1000 run again and I caught up to him (albeit he was a bit overheated and tired, a little slower than usual). I clipped on his leash and didn't say a word to him. We still had Peanuts to find. The humans split up to comb the streets, one with a dog the other still without.

I find human behavior to be ridiculous. I'm running around with Swagger like a headless chicken, asking people if they've seen a dog running through the streets off-leash. Do you know what every single response was? "What does it look like"? Does it matter what the hell the dog looks like!? It's running loose in your damn neighborhood...HAVE YOU SEEN AN OFF-LEASH DOG RUNNING AROUND OR NOT!? I have no time to waste, I need to know which way the dog went! It's a yes or no question, and then point me in the right direction you fools. One lady asked me what Peanuts looked like and when I took the time to give a brief description: "small and brown", she said "well, I did see a light creamy colored dog with no leash, but he was in the dog park when I was walking by". Thanks for the help lady.

Anyway, I never found Peanuts and I never reconnected with his owner. I went back to the dog park thinking that Peanuts may have gone back there, but she was nowhere to be seen, nor was her owner. I can only hope that he found her and that Swagger never meets Peanuts in the dog park again. I'm giving my dog the silent treatment, but he remembers yesterday like a fart in the wind. Dogs only really know right now, and at the moment he's snuggled up to me on this rainy Sunday, fast asleep, dreaming about God knows what.

My Third Annual 26th Birthday.

Remember when you turned a certain age and you were completely blown away by how quickly time had flown?

That happened to me this morning. I turned 28 today but I like to call it my Third Annual 26th Birthday. Usually I don't have this extremely profound feeling of crazy time travel on my birthday, but this morning I did. I mean, I really felt it. Perhaps it's because by this age I had hoped to have a child with two legs as opposed to having two children with four legs. Perhaps I had hoped to be an artist or to be living somewhere in the tropics. Who knows why I got the feeling. I woke up this morning another year older, actually feeling the rush of life and the quickness of it all, for the very first time.

I woke up and zombied my way upstairs to get Swagger's collar and leash on, made a cup of coffee, got my toque, boots, winter coat and mitts on and off I went into the pitch black morning. There wasn't a soul around. This is actually my favorite time of day, it's when I do most of my thinking and most of my big decision making. While walking through the open field with the cold wind on my face, I felt very, very bizarre. I got the sweeping feeling that my time here on Earth doesn't even compare to a mere grain of sand on a beach. I'm one person, and the planet doesn't need me here at all. I felt insignificant, irrelevant, my being was trivial.

Well...what a crock! I could go on and on about life being short so "live every day like it's your last, dance like no one is watching"...blah blah blah barf. I woke up feeling funny, walked through the park for a bit feeling funny, and then the eerie, BS thoughts and feelings were quickly disolved when I noticed Swagger was eating something rancid again. I ran across the field yelling "OFF! SWAGGER OFF! LEAVE IT! SIT! OFF! SIT!", breaking the morning peace with my shrill voice (which Swagger pays absolutely no attention to).

I finally reached him and discovered he was gnawing on a crab apple. Thank the lord (the time I caught him eating a baby deer carcass almost sent me over the edge and I was nearly blinded by the stench). I burst out laughing and I rolled around with my pup on the frosty grass for a good ten minutes. Then everything became less heavy again. Life is short alright, and there really is no rhyme or reason for my existence. I pretty much think that humans were a mistake anyway. Am I supposed to mope around thinking about how fleeting life really is? Nope, I shall enjoy every day as it comes, taking pleasure in the little things: my cat's paws, a bright orange maple leaf, catching someone's eye on the subway, wine with a best friend, tobogganing, avocados, my sister's laugh...there's just so much. And plus, I'll want to check-out at some point anyway, so leaving this place a happy human being is important.

Lucky to be alive I say!

Puppy Love and Cat Punches.

I am the proud mom of a cat and dog who secretly want to cuddle and kill each other, all in one movement. This is my dog Swagger. He's half Shepherd, and half pitbull, but the second half doesn't matter.


Swagger

He has a wonky ear and two white hairs on his back that my roommate continuously tries to pull out. Sometimes he runs so quickly that his legs can't keep up and he ends up nose-diving, somersaulting through the dirt. This was witnessed by me just three weeks ago. His tumble was followed by a blood trail to the animal clinic where they tricked him with a cookie and pulled the remainder of his toe nail off. They wrapped his paw in a pink bandage with blue hearts on it. He's really suspicious of the vet now.

This is my cat Hooligan. She is the direct heir to the throne of England. If she could speak she would have an English accent. She's beautiful and she knows it. She's freakishly smart and sometimes I think she's judging me.

Hooligan

I got Hooligan about 2 years before Swagger arrived. Usually a cat will attack an unknown dog intruder or run for its life. Not Hooligan. The first time Swagger came home she just sat in the doorway looking at him, completely disgusted. No fight or flight...she was trying to stare him down.

After a couple of weeks of getting used to each other Hooligan started to take advantage of little 5 month old Swagger. For example, I put her cat food on a small table to make it impossible for him to reach. He was standing next to said table and when Hooligan finished her food she swiftly jumped off the table and used Swagger's back as a stepping stone to the floor. She just walked off with an air of disdain on her face. Swagger on the other hand looked like someone had slapped him. He had no clue what had happened, but you could tell he was horrified at the possibility that the cat may have used his back as makeshift launching pad.

Now that Swagger is bigger and a bit more brave, he actually tries to play with the cat. Sometimes she looks defeated and rolls on her back, and other times she'll let him have it. Just the other evening my roommate, Hooligan and I were all curled up on the couch watching Marley and Me when Swagger came over for some affection from the cat. He jammed his nose in her face and before we knew it she was hanging off of his cheek. She had Swagger in a death grip between her teeth and he didn't move an inch. He stared at us wide eyed and extremely concerned. More concerned than I have ever seen a dog look. Once she knew he got the point she released his face, turned her back to him and proceeded to have a bath. Swagger sauntered off to his crate and snuggled with his stuffed squirrel.

It's a love hate relationship. Swagger adores Hooligan and wants to play with her even if it means being cat-punched or having his cheeks bitten. Hooligan tolerates his presence and when she's feeling extra affectionate she'll walk by him and lean ever so slightly his way, brushing up against his leg. A little love nudge.

My cat may be a bit judgmental but ultimately she loves me. She has been by my side through tough times, curling up across my neck in the night and rattling my wind pipe with her purr. She let's me know that everything will be okay. Swagger brings love and structure into my life, pulling me out of my lazy sleep-in mornings and replacing them with a jaunt through the park, some ball throwing for good measure and a loyalty that I won't ever find elsewhere. What a pair. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.