It Happened in the Park

Maisie In Fish Creek Park, Calgary, AB

I have kind thoughts of my morning walks,

They always gladden me;

I find a traipse through the park’s landscape

creates frivolity!

I jump right inside my owners’ ride -

No need for them to call;

I’m up at dawn with my track suit on -

We’re gonna have a ball!

Bendin’ the rims we swerve into Tims,

My orders memorized:

One coffee (please) and Timbits times three

Will keep me satisfied.

We lose the dark as we near the park

and jump onto the path;

Forget the leash, I’m a walkin’ beast

and headin’ for the grass…

To my great delight it snowed last night

I’m sure to have some fun!

I finish my biz with one quick whiz

And then I’m on the run…

As I jog by - What is this I spy?

A mighty tasty stick!

I hit the brakes and prepare to take

This twig that I have picked.

But WHOA! Hold on! There’s something wrong!

I slide right by the stem…

I’m still on the run but on my bum

and heading for mayhem!

With a scorching butt and eyes tight shut,

I tumble to a halt;

Thoroughly bruised and kinda confused

I look for who’s at fault…

Coffee Shop Discomfort

 

Straight up, no sugar coating: I am not comfortable in coffee shops. I don’t mean physically uncomfortable, as most of them are rather well appointed with sturdy furniture. I mean emotionally or, perhaps more concise, socially uncomfortable. This is a most  unusual confession for me. I am comfortable in most places and social settings. I am completely at ease at dog shows (duh!), merchandising and buying trips (double duh!), and on the flyball field or in the gallery after a competition. I am also in my element in fine restaurants, intimate dinner parties with friends, political cocktail gatherings, senate hearings… you name it.

And it’s not that I dislike coffee. Who among us isn’t really ready to start the day sniffing and howling until a strong cup of java lubricates the sinuses and massages the throat? No, I quite like coffee and the great variety most of these establishments provide. Also, I enjoy tea, hot chocolate, milk steamers and Italian sodas – all readily available at the coffee house and a pure treat to my rather refined palate. I am also slobberingly fond of the edibles usually encountered within these beaneries. All manners of sweets, tasty sandwiches, toasted bagels – my whiskers are wet and my chin is laced with ropey drool just thinking about these offerings.

No, my problem isn’t the coffee, the libations, the furniture, or the food. My problem is the atmosphere. Coffee Houses are intense. Coffee House patrons are intense. And even though they are great people, Coffee House employees are intense. And Labs, by nature, are not intense. We are happy, wagging-tail folk that feel very uncomfortable surrounded by intensity.

From the moment you walk in the door of the Coffee House, everyone focuses on you. You don’t approach a server - you approach a Barista or Roast Master or Bean Connoisseur. And they don’t offer you a variety of choices to which you might just nod your head when you hear something you like – they wait silently and judgmentally while you try to remember if you wanted a Sumatran Gold Grandioso or a Saskatchewan Chokecherry Decaf. And then, once you place your order, they never congratulate your choice. They simply and silently take your money, and  you are left wondering if they approved or have exposed you as the Java Junior you really are.

You next slide down the counter, panicking inwardly that you don’t know where to go to get your order until, just as you are about to start frantically barking, you hear your choice shouted out over the din and you locate the Coffee Concoctionist holding your cup and staring at you. Impatiently staring at you, it seems. You force your way through the crowd of seemingly impatient patrons waiting for their orders, mumble something in gratitude, and quickly escape the suffocating tide of coffee starved humanity before they condemn you further.

Hastily, you locate the only empty table and try to calm yourself and remain inconspicuous. However, as you discreetly survey the room, you realize that you are surrounded by very smart, very intense people. People studiously typing at their keyboards and staring at the screens of their laptops, creating world altering novels or pioneering scientific theories. Others are absorbed in thick printed books with small type, brows furrowed in concentration. Still others are mesmerized by electronic books and tablets bearing such devastatingly important data that their coffees remain virtually untouched. And at the tables occupied by more than one person, the patrons speak to each other in low serious tones, punctuated occasionally by insightful knowing chuckles.

And there I sit. Alone and disengaged. I have tried to use a laptop, but my paws keep mashing numerous keys at once and I end up frustrated. I have purchased fine books, but I have difficulty turning the pages and often lose them when I stop to study an ant or sniff a pal’s derriere. And I simply cannot use an e-reader or tablet. Try navigating a touch screen with calloused pads or a wet nose and you’ll understand.

So I sit by myself at my table and I try to affect a look of deep and meaningful thought while gently lapping my Skinny Latte (extra froth) and trying not to make to big a mess on the table. But I can feel the eyes of patrons and the employees on me and I think they know I don’t have any really deep thoughts going on. I think they know that I enjoy loud noises, big flashy stimuli, and that I don’t have the greatest attention span. All in all, they know I’m a poser and I know they know and it makes me very uncomfortable and self conscious. I end up finishing my beverage with more on me and on the table than in me and I hurry out in shame, resolving to avoid Coffee Houses at all costs. No doubt about it, it is the intensity of the Coffee House that makes me uncomfortable. 

Or, and this just occurred to me, I might be uncomfortable in coffee shops for another reason: DOGS AREN’T ALLOWED IN COFFEE SHOPS!

Baby, I’m Back!

Clearly, time has passed. Well, time has certainly passed but perhaps not so clearly. Perhaps the passage of the weeks that turned to months has been murky indeed. Where have I been? In what manner of excitement was I involved? 

Did I embark on a worldwide pilgrimage, seeking enlightenment and deeper Canine understanding? Was I the victim of an unfortunate Flyball injury that left me comatose, and upon my awakening, confused and bewildered? Or did I engage in a torrid but ill-fated whirlwind romance with a muscular Irish Wolfhound that left me heartbroken and despondent? Or did I in-fact experience all of these scenarios?

No matter what adventures or misadventures have occupied my time, there are some things a Lady simply doesn’t divulge. Besides, a little secrecy supports my credibility as an International Lab of Mystery. Believe me, the great ideas that you see in my product line aren’t the result of trottin’ around the neighborhood at the end of a leash! No Sir (or Madam)! The old brain pan needs constant stimulation in order to remain full to the brim with inspired notions for Canine comfort and class.

What matters most is not where I have been but where I am going. The future is exciting and I’m looking forward to sharing my musings with all of you once again. While I’m composing my thoughts for my upcoming posts, don’t hesitate to view the rest of my website and watch for the email announcement for our next “Open House Sale”.

Until then… Sniff you later!!

Fathers' Day - Sunday, June 20th, 2010

The newly mown yard is cool on my tummy. The pleasing scent of the fresh clippings entertains my nose. Stretched out before me, my paws (slightly green) sink through the short blades of grass and contact the earth beneath, still slightly damp from an onslaught of rain that is with every passing moment becoming a fading memory.
 
Above, the sky is an endless blue mystery punctuated occasionally with small harmless puffs of cloud. It is limitless and omniscient, yet comforting. The sun is just rounding the peaks of the neighbouring rooftop. Its welcome warmth is obvious and it is perfectly angled, causing neither impenetrable shadows nor squinting glare.
 
My eyes are pleasantly occupied in the tracking of varied butterflies and sparrows, spared from my fearsome charge (if only for the moment) while I allow myself the simple pleasure of recline. The industrious putter and whine of several neighbourhood mowers and string trimmers create an agreeable soundtrack to my relaxation.
 
I am overcome with a singular sense of gratitude for just – being. Happy Fathers’ Day, Dad;  wherever you are.

 

SLUMBER, 101

Drop your chewies and squeakies and gather ‘round, my canine brethren and, err, sisterethen – for I have Crazie knowledge to impart! Regardless of your breed or pedigree, we are a people bound by a single commonality – we are busy! We guard the refrigerator, we oversee the preparation of our meals, we monitor the neighbours, we fetch the ball, we compete for honour and glory on the flyball field, we protect our bones, we ensure the sufficient distribution of our snacks, we run successful textile based businesses, and if there is any time left – we stand as willing sentinels in the ongoing protection of our homes and vehicles. Our lives are a 24 / 7 adventure and we are tired! Tired and sleepy! And if there is one thing we deserve – it’s a good night’s sleep!

Unfortunately, in this age of human intervention, many of us are being unwittingly denied our proper 12 to 20 hour rest each day – the minimum requirement for such high functioning bodies as ours. It’s not necessarily that our humans do not respect us, it is more a matter of their lack of understanding. And since most of us are surrendered to their care at mere weeks of age, we run the risk of never knowing ourselves the true requirements of a proper doggie slumber. Therefore, in the altruistic interest of canine education, I will share with you the secret of a good night’s sleep...

First and foremost, you need to understand that to be the very best version of yourself, you need two types of rest – naps and sleep. Basically, naps are short sleeps that should be encouraged a minimum of 12 times per day during the hours of 6:00 am to 10:00 pm. Napping, or Short Sleeping, provides the short term battery boosting necessary to completing the day’s tasks as outlined above. Insufficient napping results in lacklustre fetching and a reduced enjoyment of meals and snacks. Wake UP, folks – it’s important!

To facilitate the most effective nap, you can choose a variety of locations – a sofa, loveseat, reclining chair, or a special canine napping bed or custom mat (see our website). The secret to a good nap is to place yourself in a position not too distant from the action of the refrigerator, blender, or your food dishes. You do have multiple food dishes, don’t you? As defined by the name – Short Sleeping – the nap is intended to get you through the next hour or so without totally eclipsing your usual alertness and readiness to accept a romp or treat.

Now, once you have made it past 10:00 PM and your humans are “chin to chest” in their respective recliners, it is time for SLEEP. As opposed to naps, your nightly sleep is your only opportunity to forget your worries, shut down the old brain box, and provide your body with the muscle and bone regenerating rest it requires. In order to maximize the beneficial aspects of sleep, it’s important that it be as uninterrupted as possible. This is your time to heal, so forget the potential of calamity or household catastrophe – you have earned this time!

Unfortunately, a stubborn “old wives’ tale” persists in human culture that dogs (that’s us) are happiest sleeping in their crates. This is patently wrong! A crate is fine for short stays when our humans are out buying our food or transporting us for very short distances, but it is no place for a night’s sleep. We need room to flex our limbs, stretch our bodies, and wriggle our toes. And most importantly, we need ample air circulation. A lot of essential body cleansing occurs during a proper sleep and no one wants to “enjoy” that longer than necessary!

Therefore, you want to locate the largest mattress in the house to accommodate your slumber. This is usually located in the Master Bedroom – the one with the biggest closet and usually its own bathroom. This will also likely be the most comfortable bed in the house. Now, due to this aforementioned human misconception regarding optimal canine sleeping arrangements, your humans may be reluctant to allow you to share this mattress. However, there are two important steps you can take to prevent any untoward encounters.

First, make sure you go to bed before them. Possession is more than nine tenths of the law in this case. If you are there first, and you are sound asleep when they arrive, than you have an inalienable right to remain. No matter what tactics they may employ, keep your eyes firmly shut and even emit a barely audible snore. This indicates that you are soundly asleep and their attempts to disturb you are futile.

Regrettably, there is a certain faction of Homo Sapiens that won’t relent when their verbal admonitions fall on deaf and sleepy ears. No, these folks will try to physically MOVE you when they come to bed. This is where the second step to a good night’s sleep comes in: the firm mastery of doggy physics. Listen to your inner Canine and heed the wisdom of centuries of true dominance. Practice your canine yoga (the downward Human, the CanonBall Tummy) and let your spiritual body mastery shine! And in so doing, transform your mere earth weight into an immovable object 100 times what the scale reports. Let the 12 pound Yorkie become a 200 pound block of granite! Let the 60 pound Lab become a 400 pound boulder. And let the mighty Mastiff become a true spring-sagging Mount McKinley. With eyes squeezed tightly shut and drool soaking the duvet, be disturbed no more!

And in this fashion, my beloved friends, may you be at your peak throughout the day, your most peaceful throughout the night, and your most frisky and energetic at 6:00 AM when you need to pee and eat, not necessarily in that order!

Dogs are People Too!

Well, 2010 has thundered in a like freight train and so far shows no signs of finding the brakes. Please understand that I’m not complaining – it was awful nice to lap up a glass of Champagne and toast farewell to 2009. But with the success of our new product lines, our promotional tours, and my unswerving commitment to my fly-ball training, I have been paws to the pedal for two months and my ears are starting to droop!

Therefore, I was understandingly seized by a giant full body wag when Mom told me that we were going to Canmore this weekend to a highly touted condo hotel. I threw some kibble in a duffel bag, tossed in my road training gear, grabbed Basil (my constant companion since puppy-hood), and headed for the car. The ride out to Canmore was seemingly endless, such was my need for a little rest and relaxation getaway. I couldn’t wait to breathe the mountain air, jog the tree lined paths, and most importantly, dip my paws in the pool!

This particular establishment provides all the creature comforts and I am a creature that needs comforting! Massage bookings, on-site gym, and a year ‘round heated outdoor pool and two outdoor hot tubs just waiting for me to enjoy. These latter amenities were the most enticing to me. Although I love Calgary and it will always be home, I am a Labrador and the maritimes are bred into my very existence. I was bio-engineered for the sea and Calgary’s climate doesn’t offer a lot of water opportunities. Therefore, when I know I can find a pool, I’m especially excited.

After an interminable and monotonous drive we finally pulled into the covered breezeway of the hotel. I stayed in the car while Mom and Dad checked us in and found our room. Once the bags were stowed they came back and toured me through the premises. I was suitably impressed. Nice lobby, cheerful personnel, and clean common areas. Our room featured a full kitchen (which was great as I am frequently hungry), nice master bedroom, and a balcony overlooking the pool. I was transfixed!

Tearing myself away from the balcony, I quickly tucked Basil in and made sure he was safe, grabbed my goggles and barked for Mom and Dad to take me to the pool. It was at that point that my dreamily anticipated weekend turned into one of the most humiliating and infuriating occasions of my life. I sat stunned and thunderstruck as Dad explained that dogs weren’t allowed in the pool or the hot tub! WHAT??? !!!

Dogs are not allowed in the Pool?! Because we are not fit to swim with humans?! REALLY?! I don’t pee when I swim. Can you say the same thing of your three old, lady? I don’t throw dangerous objects in the pool. Can you teenagers holding the chaise lounge make the same claim? I don’t hog the pool - unlike you, my corpulent friend on the air mattress. I don’t require a life guard (my feet are webbed, for Goodness sake!). Too bad the inebriated tourist about to Canon Ball in the shallow end can’t say the same!

Oh, but I’m hairy. Yes, this is true. I’m covered with hair specifically designed through generations of selective breeding to be perfectly suited to aquatic endeavors. I wonder if the hirsute middle aged accountant who looks like he’s draped himself with a dead sheep can claim any special attributes to his body fur, other than the ability to simultaneously clog all the pool filters. But I’m unfit for the pool! Where’s my government funded special action initiative? Where are the commercials demanding my equality?

They don’t exist. So I did what I always do. I held my head up with pride and insisted that Mom and Dad enjoy the pool without me. They deserved this trip as much as I did. Then, alone in the room, I grabbed Basil and stretched out on the bed. As I drifted off in a fitful sleep, I wondered how we could be so shockingly behind when everyone tells us that we have come so far…

My Sunday Walk

The heavy cloak of cloud, unmoving
Enshrouds the helpless January city
Bereft of Sun and Hope
Captive to the endless grey
Muted - not just the usual busy sounds
But the possibility of sound itself
Yet amplified - the normally thankfully silent
The Bleakness screams
The grimy Roadways shout
The ice cap choking the river chortles
My footfalls, as unsure as a newborn
Weak and tremulous as I attempt to navigate
Not snow, but frozen, jagged, crusty Danger
Once white, now dingy and mottled
I press on, not because I want to
But because I have to
No possibility of surcease
My whimpers are as lost as the shadows
in this Sunless clime.

Sorry, friends. Even normally irrepressible Labradors get the January blues. If it insists on being winter, I believe I would prefer a sunny minus 5 degrees to a dreary plus 3!

Holiday Happiness

Whether you choose to participate or not, the excitement of the Holidays surrounds us. The commercial offerings, seasonal parties, and visible Christmas trappings are inescapable. I believe most of us are only too happy to be swept up in the storm of glad tidings and great expectations.

However, as an accomplished athlete and successful business Lab, I have been trained to observe, analyze, and cogitate - not just accept life as it presents itself unquestionably. I must always take the time to look beneath the surface and examine the meaning behind the movement. This is especially important at this stage of my life, for I am both young and young at heart. Unfortunately, this means I can become easily distracted by meaningless occurrences and lose my focus...

Like a few months ago when my Dad introduced me to the flexible doorstop mounted by our back door. This wondrous device is comprised, as near as I can figure, of tightly coiled spring wire topped with a rubber tip. Dad showed me that I could flick the tip with my paw and cause the crazy contraption to vibrate frenetically back and forth with a most pleasing twanging sound. Well, I don’t need to tell you that productivity suffered that day, and a few days more! But I digress...

So it is important that I search my own thoughts and feelings to discover why it is that I am so excited by the Christmas season. After enduring what seemed like countless seconds of soul searching and solemn meditation, I discovered my answer. The FOOD. The Mandarin Oranges. The Cheese Logs. The Shortbread Cookies. The Mixed Nut Platters. The Vegetable and Dip Trays. The Gingerbread Cookies. The Popcorn. The Prime Rib Roast Beef. The Organic Free Range Turkey. And, perhaps last on this list but by no means least, THE GRAVY.

The overwhelming importance of this culinary component was crystallized for me last night when I attended an intimate soiree hosted in my honor. After a most relaxing country drive in the late afternoon we arrived at the home of our friends and were immediately greeted with both a mixed vegetable and dip tray AND a mixed meat and cheese tray. While, for reasons I don’t understand (or did understand at the time but have since forgotten), I wasn’t allowed any of the meats, I was provided with a pleasing selection of cheese bits, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, dip, and pickles.

Dinner consisted of a scrumptious scallop and spinach appetizer, followed by the most tempting spiral ham (bone in), meatballs, asparagus, and salad; crowned by the presentation of a flan-like dessert cake covered with fruit. Again, I wasn’t allowed to have the ham, but the rest was delectable.

And while this party is foremost in my memory, it has not been the only food centric celebration of the season. They all are! And I am grateful. So, here are my suggestions for maximizing your enjoyment of this incredible season:

Open your paws and your jaws and accept the treats that are offered;

Stop fretting about self-image and stop worrying about the party poopers (and you know who you are, Dr. Tracie, though you know I love you);

Always show your enthusiasm (judicious slobbering);

Always show your gratitude - Don’t be afraid to kiss!

That’s the secret, friends. My best wishes for a tummy swelling Christmas to you all!

The Advancing Years

I suppose it’s an inevitable component of aging - the reflection, reminiscence, and fretful wonder regarding the future. As you might have guessed, I am facing another birthday and hence, I find myself prone to contemplating my time spent on this corporeal plane.

My past stretches endlessly before my astonished eyes. The calendar pages filled and torn away almost innumerable. My days in the whelping box, newly minted and full of awe. The sound of my baby name from the lips of my first parents. “Pumpkin!” they called, time and again. I accepted this as normal then, but am baffled that I permitted such an unpoetic salutation to be assigned to me!

Still, the memories flood my conscience like a cinematic tribute. Meeting my real parents and coming home with them. Learning to use the yard, and not the house, for the various bio-mechanical requirements. Hearing for the first time my proper full name - Torngat’s Fortune Bay Maisie! A name destined for greatness if ever there was!

And now, a tear, if you’ll permit me, while I recall endless forays about the living room and den with my sister, Lexi. The laughter we’d share as I would wheel-barrow her into the wall unit or pounce on her head while she was using the yard. I’m sure that the impact she had on me was only shadowed by the joy I brought her. She has passed on now, but lives forever in my fond memories.

As I matured, I was introduced to the rigorous training required of those reaching adulthood. Hours and hours of Sit! Stay! Heel! Down! Off! (I still hate that one), and Come! It wasn’t immediately apparent why this was required, but now that I have grown I am thankful for the discipline and the lessons that I have learned.

Then there were the glorious hours spent walking in the park and fetching my flyball in the field. Our lives consist primarily of routine but we naturally highlight the things we’ve enjoyed most. And for me, the walks, runs, and fetches are hallmark! I’m also proud of the business that I inspired and the fine, quality products that we produce... but there’s nothing finer than a brisk walk in the crisp Autumn air.

Ah, the days that have slipped by into oblivion, leaving only happiness and warmth as their footprint. The meals that I have enjoyed, the trips abroad that helped form me (Vegas, Baby!), and the tummy rubs that have coaxed me to sleep...

I am indeed fortunate. I have led an exciting life that still leaves me breathless. And now, less than a month away from my second birthday, I can’t but wonder what is next. When I was a puppy, TWO seemed like forever but now, here it is. All I know is that I shall face it with the same sense of optimism and eagerness that I have brought to my entire life so far!

The Zen Of Fetch

I step out of the house into the early morning, tasting the crisp freshness of the autumn air and sensing the prospect of untold opportunity. Night is reluctant to surrender its shroud to the October sun, and I find my way to the vehicle using more perception than sight.

Once aboard, I begin the crucial pre-workout routine that prepares me for the coming challenges and helps ensure my success. While the ride to the field is relatively short and I might enjoy the sight of the rising sun revealing the as yet bare and bold Rockies, I know I must pay attention to my training. Stretching each leg in turn and splaying each paw, coaxing the sleep from the finely conditioned muscles and flexing the ligaments and tendons, I encourage my body to anticipate the impending rigors.

We come to a stop in the parking lot and my trainers adorn themselves with the various paraphernalia required for my session. Strapping on coaching bags full of nutritional supplements (and a few plastic bags for other unforeseen necessities), grabbing the launching device and loading the tennis ball, they make their way to the hatch to release me. 

The door swings up and every fiber of my being reacts in perfect consort, channelling my complete conscious and unconscious focus towards the singular goal. I spring from the compartment and seemingly glide above the gravel and grass towards the ball as it achieves its zenith and arcs downward back toward the earth. As it lands, I am on it, not even stopping as I cradle it in my mouth, swing around and head back to the trainers awaiting my triumphant arrival.

And now it has begun. With each new launch of the ball, my body tenses and prepares for the impending explosion of speed and power. When they holler my release word, I am a ground level rocket ship tearing through the landscape with unerring precision. I am alert and alive; every sense honed to its keenest edge. With perfect accuracy, I capture the ball and soar back to base, aware of my coat shining in the newly minted day as I run towards the exclamations of praise (and dare I suggest - amazement?) from my trainers.

The process is repeated over and over - all of us aware that we are attempting to improve upon perfection and will accept no less. I don’t disappoint. As even I begin to believe that I have achieved the absolute apex of the sport, I somehow manage to shave off just a few more milliseconds on the next run, find just a bit more hustle... 

Finally, I am spent. While not having expended the raw physical energy that I have, my trainers are exhausted as well - the emotion of the session almost too great for them. We rally back to the vehicle and I am rewarded with a good long drink and a couple of specially designed nutritional food packets created specifically for high performance athletes. The engine starts and we head home where I will spend some grateful hours recovering and replaying today’s session with positive visualization and keen evaluation for the next day’s work (although to the untrained this looks a lot like snoozing).  

FETCH - to some a simple mechanical act of retrieving a thrown object. To me, so very much more....

Maisie