Bad Ass Biker Dog

This is Kayloo's Harley Davidson dog tag. She wears it because she is a bad ass biker chick, just like her mom (you can see examples of just how bad ass I am here and... oh what the hell, let's laugh at me again: here).

Mickey has one too (although it's not a heart, duh, he's a boy), but now it just looks like nothing because Kayloo gnaws on it whenever she gets the chance.

Look at that! It looks like I took a photo of a dog tag on a cow!

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Pet Eliminator

Know what would be a miracle? Not needing this "PET ODOR" ELIMINATOR CRAP ANYMORE!!!

What is going on? I thought we were OVER THIS BULLSH*T!!! If my dogs aren't fighting they're wrecking stuff, if they aren't wrecking stuff they are generally being a pain in the butt. *

*For those of you reading my blog for the first time, the truth is, I am hopelessly in love with my dogs. It's just... you just DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW what I have been doing for the last hour. Trust me. Not cool, not cool... shudder... not cool.

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Too Cute For School

Okay. This is just a super cute picture of Kayloo. She was playing, and she was running, and was crashing into stuff and then she got tired and sat on her toy box (here's another cute picture... and OH MY GOD ANOTHER ONE).

Yes, I do realize I need to get a grip. Thank you.

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Thanksgiving Wine: I Blame Canada

Thanksgiving is coming up. Food mmm. Wine mmm. The first glass of wine I can remember tasting was in my first year of university. It was Thanksgiving, and one of my friends had organized a potluck.

The cozy (read: cramped) house was filled with the homey aroma of turkey roasting in the oven, stove top dressing warming on the stove top (we were students, GIVE US A BREAK) and the distinctly musty smell of burnt cat hair (the hosts’ cat walked past a beeswax candle and narrowly missed bursting into flames). So much to be thankful for (an important one being NO ROAST CAT).

The first glass of wine I was to enjoy on that Thanksgiving Day, was a blend of red (I am fairly certain “red” and “white” were the only kinds of wine that existed when I was in first year uni)… generously mixed with the fizzy sweet goodness of… I’m sure you will all recognize this name… 7up.

7up. Well, I suppose my VERY first tipple was sans the 7up but I thought it was so disgusting and was THIS close to pouring it out (a deplorable crime for ANY university student to commit), before my almost cat-less friend had the brilliant idea to mix it with something that I DID like. And who doesn’t like 7up? I mean, come on.

To be honest with you, the wine didn’t even taste very good masked by the 7Up. Thinking back on it: OF COURSE IT TASTED HORRIBLE! Wine and 7up?! There were at least a dozen people in that house and NOT ONE person stopped me. Zero. You’d think that in a group of 12 people over the age of 12 there would be at least ONE PERSON who would have the wherewithal to say: “Hey, I think that the combination of soda pop and wine might be a bad plan.” I am from a small town in Northern British Columbia. I can’t possibly be expected to know the finer points of consuming wine, let alone what kind of pop one should mix with it.

Really what I am getting at is this: What on earth is going on in Canadian universities? Do you think this travesty would have occurred in Italy? Chile? France? I am VERY STRONGLY DOUBTING IT.

Chantal: Mais non! Take this vin away, vin is grotesque! Horrible, horrible, horrible (pronounced “horeeeble”)!

Nicholette: Oh mon dieu! Moi can’t believe you do not like wine. What to do, what to do? I know, let’s BASTARDIZE IT BY MIXING IT WITH SOMETHING CARBONATED.

Do you see? I can’t even translate the scenario into half-French because IT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN. It’s not even in the half-French vocabulary. The French have been drinking wine with their croissants since they were 3 years old… and what exactly are the Canadians doing? Drinking maple syrup? Drinking snow? Losing hockey games?

My first experience with wine could have been a beautiful memory. I could have stood out on the balcony to get away from the cat smell, drowned in the intoxicating bouquet of “red” and let that first sip of my true adulthood mingle with the bloated feeling of eating far too much on a very special Thanksgiving Day.

Instead, I had some really bad 7up.

And I blame Canada.

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1 Yr Olds- Baby 1: Dog 0

John and I babysat our friends' little girl on Friday night. Little Munchkin (LM) is about 1 1/2 years old. Mickey is about 1 1/2 years old. LM was pretty darn good. Mickey was a pain in the ass.

Let's compare, shall we?

When I arrived LM had a wee bit of a breakdown once she realized that her dad was about to leave. Shortly after that all the tears were gone and she helped me prepare the family dogs' dinner, we inspected her sock and puttered around the house. We read a couple books- actually, we read one book eight times- and then we went in the back, ran around in circles and threw the ball for the dog. Fun indeed.

An hour and a half later John and my dogs arrived. Mickey promptly stole LM's teddy bear and started to chow down on its ear. LM's eyes got as big as saucers as she watched the demise of her security blanket and I somehow managed to divert a Full Scale Waterworks Attack by diving after the dog and returning the teddy bear to its rightful owner. A LITTLE GIRL. At which point Mickey snatched it back. At which point I pulled an Incredible Hulk, puffed up to my Super Scary Crazy Mom height of 12 feet, 4 inches and made it VERY CLEAR that Mickey was NEVER TO TOUCH THE DAMN TEDDY BEAR AGAIN.

And so Mickey tried one more time and then we were done with that.

During dinner LM tried to feed her dog half of her dinner. I shook my head. She stopped.

After dinner Mickey stole LM's soother and ran to the other room (RUN! RUN! I'VE GOT IT! HAHAHAHAHA!), ears flat back and ready to go. And then he did it again when LM's parents got home, which was VERY embarrassing because I'm sure I've gone and bragged about how we are getting better at bossing our dogs around. DAMN DOG MADE ME LOOK BAD.

Once the parents were home, LM curled up onto dad's lap, nuzzled up quiet as a mouse and listened as dad read her a story.

Mickey jumped up on to everyone's fancy clothes (which he doesn't normally do), found Kayloo sleeping on the floor and woke her up with a Love Pounce and karate kick to the head, and managed to nudge his way out the front door and went tearing down the street like a bat outta hell: YAHOO! LOOK AT ME! I'M RUNNING, YA YA YA YA YA!!!

Once all that was done we headed back home. And then I had the joy of cleaning up 1 book, 1 journal and 1 bra that had been shredded into 8 trillion little pieces.

By 11pm Friday evening 1 1/2 year old babies were winning over 1 1/2 year old dogs. HANDS DOWN.

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CIBC Run for the Cure 2009

Mickey and I walked the CIBC Run for the Cure again this year (check out a photo of us from 2008).

I'm honoured to have joined thousands of Canadians across the country in support of raising funds for breast cancer research. My heart goes out to the individuals and families touched by this horrible disease. Keep fighting, keep running, keep dancing... keep laughing and crying and just doing whatever the heck it is you need to do to keep doing it. We're here for you.

A huge thank you to the volunteers for coordinating this country-wide day of fundraising- well done!


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Happy October! (or How to Train a Cat to Sit)

Happy October, everyone!

Mmmm... I love the fall. When I was a kid there was a cat that adopted the street that my family lived on. He was a really cool cat. He liked ice cream. He was orange, so naturally his name was Tigger. He knew how to 'sit,' and 'stay,' and when my brother would rake up all the leaves in the backyard Tigger would wait patiently until my brother was done and then he would dash into the leaves and scatter them everywhere.

I think of that every time Fall comes around.

I also think of it when my dogs aren't listening to me and I ponder: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOMAN you managed to get a CAT to sit ON COMMAND. You had better hope your influence over animals did not peak when you were 9 YEARS OLD.

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