1. Know your hiding spots to get away from annoying relatives when necessary.
2. Rest when you can.
3. Plaster a huge grin on your face for anyone you see. Or just be really, really happy to see them.
4. Don’t be afraid to make fresh tracks.
5. But be ready to follow the leader when you need to.
6. Examine your surroundings.
8. And run.
9. And run.
10 Make snow angels.
12. And do what you have to do to get the best treats.
First of all and basically more important than anything else I have to say today:
My coworker brought her dogs into work today.
LOOK AT THESE NUGGETS.
Which pretty much my my entire life worth living.
You know what’s awesome about dogs?
Dogs have astounding personalities. They are way smarter then we give them credit for. They are always in the mood for hugs.
And of course, the best part-
They are perpetually grateful.
I’ve dogsit for enough pooches to be completely assured that they are always grateful.
For. Every. Little. Thing.
And that’s a big part of what yoga is trying to teach us – to be grateful for our bodies and minds and breaths and practices and lives.
But hey, you don’t want me to tell you about what there is to be grateful for.
You want my dogs to do it.
1. Be grateful for hugs.
2. Be grateful for food.
3. Be grateful for naps in the sun.
4. Be grateful for people who let you stick your face into theirs.
5. Be grateful for those who are happy to see you whenever you get home.
6. Be grateful for soft couches.
7. And snuggles.
8. And your family, even if you fight sometimes.
9. Be grateful for the opportunity to laugh at yourself.
10. Mostly, just be grateful about life. Because it’s awesome. And so are you.
I might officially have the two stupidest dogs on the planet.
Let me explain.
I’m still in Canada visiting my grandparents, whose house is right on the lake. Not lake close. Not lake side. Lake on.
My two golden retriever puppies, Patty Mayonnaise and Dr. Pepper, are H2o enthusiasts. They swim like otters who have spend the entire morning unattended in a candy shop. Patty, in particular, is aqua obsessive. She will figuratively swim until she dies. Pepper enjoys BEING in water, but less so the physical aspect.
Let’s omit the part where it took them 15 minutes to even figure out that the house was near a body of water. Namely, the 15 minutes it took for me to put a swimsuit on and take them down to the beach. Come on, dogs.
No, the part that had me in stitches was the part where my dear dogs could not see the massive schools of spawning carp that were literally underneath their noses.
Side note – did you see what I did up there with the correct usage of figuratively and literally? That’s how it’s done, internet.
Yet I digress.
Each spring, the lakefront right outside my grandparent’s house is home to multiple healthy populations of fish… uh… doin’ it. As only fish can do. Meaning by laying eggs and – you know what, you get the idea.
I distinctly remember one day when I was a kid, about 7 years old. I was swimming in the shallows and I caught, with my bare hands, a pike who was clearly sedated by his (her?) post-coital bliss. I grabbed hold of the struggling serpentine shape and high-tailed to the house, where mi familia was enjoying some late afternoon apéritifs.
I proudly walked into the middle of this pleasant gathering, and said (true story), “Look! I caught dinner!”
It took some time for then to convince me to put the fish back in the lake. Apparently people don’t eat pike (reasons why I’m single #4 – I’m wicked good at catching spawning pike).
Long story summarized – lots of fish up in this lake. Massive fish. I saw at least five 10-pounders.
What catches my dog’s attention, pray tell? What makes them raise their hackles and growl and clash their teeth?
This inanimate, non-threatening rock. Keep in mind there are huge fish swimming INTO my dog’s legs (fish are dumb).
But no, apparently the rock was a bigger security issue than the fish.
Because of reasons?
Well internet, I’m back on the road. To Canada, to be precise.
Mi madre is driving and our trusty canine compadres Dumb and Dumber are konked out in the back seat.
Marm, fortunately, did not make the trek with us. He’s staying at home so he can continue peeing on things out of spite.
It’s 10:37 at night as I’m writing this currently, which is irrelevant to you as this blog won’t be posted until sometime on Saturday, but I’m trying to set the scene. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind week. I’ve been working my butt off with catering and yoga and visitor’s centre stuff and whatnot and I’ve barely been able to think, let alone write or sleep or catch up on Battlestar Galatica (okay, that last bit’s not true).
Long story short, I’m very ready to escape from reality for a few days with mi Madre, my steadfast grandfather Papear, and my most loyal blog reader, Granny. Not to mention that the food in Canada always seems somewhat enthusiastically better than American food. I’m not sure how much of that feeling is pure nostalgia and how much is Canadian cooking, but I’m currently devouring a Tim Hortons donut and I’m very happy about it.
My grandparents live in a little nowhere town just a hopskip across the border from Buffalo, right on Lake Erie. Both sets of my grandparents used to live on the same road, incidentally, but my American set have long since relocated to the gentler climes of South Carolina. I have many fond memories of running betweenthe two houses as a young rapscallion (the great and understated advantage to having grandparents living right next to each other – if one pair says no the other will almost invariably say yes).
It’s now Saturday – time warp, woahhh – and I’ve made it in one piece. Yesterday the Fam Damily and I spend a very pleasant morning biking the TransCanadian bike trail – very Canadianly named the Friendship trail.
Fun fact – whenever you pass someone on the Friendship trail, they will greet you in a pleasant and very polite Canadian manner. If they do not, they are probably American.
We biked down to the market in Port Colborne and haggled over exorbitantly priced pepperettes and buckwheat honey and some lovely fresh roasted cashews.
I am only telling you this so I have an excuse to put in this awesome picture of the lift bridge in. Port Colborne is home to a working lift bridge, which there are very few left of. I almost researched it, but I got bored and dinner’s almost ready.
Bye for now.
I’ve talked about my least favorite animal in the house already, Marmaduke, but I haven’t told you you about the stars of the show yet. I have three pets total- Marmaduke, who I’ve talked about in great length, Patty Mayonnaise, and Dr. Pepper. Dr. Pepper’s name is technically Peppermint so together the two dogs are Peppermint Patty, but I categorically refuse to refer to them in that way. Honestly, I generally refer to them as “D’awwwwww” and “Who’s a good boy you areeeee”.
Patty is slightly older then Pepper- we got her about a year before we got him. She’s now almost three. They are technically half siblings from the same breed / family as our old dog Mackintosh.
They are Alaskan Goldens, which means they are bred as sled dogs and they are about mini horse sized. This does not make them as smart as mini horses. I think between the two of them, they could maybe figure out “sit”. On a good day.
Fun facts- Patty is terrified of heights. Peppermint is pretty convinced that the cat is a chew toy. They’re both pretty awesome pillows.