WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS...

My 3 rug rats in a forvorite place - M'mère's jaccuzi!

While I was at the office yesterday, the supplier dumped a load of firewood in front of my garage. The delivery is late. It had been scheduled at least two months ago, so that I would have plenty of time to bring it in before winter.

The Habs-Boston game was already playing; the temptation was too much, and I watched the first period before checking the weather forecast. Just as I feared, there is a bright, red warning indicated for our area. My demons are to return in full force by tomorrow, trailing loads of snow and freezing rain….and all that wood sitting outside!

I’m in the midst of packing in the city. Last weekend my garage, where the office equipment will be stored, was emptied of most of Bird’s house belongings. What remains needs to be shifted to make room for both the wood and the truckload of office furniture and boxes .There are two financial statements to prepare and tax remittances for three companies to be done – and all this by the end of the month! I was feeling slightly overwhelmed.

Then…grandson to the rescue! Fred came upstairs, doing his daily trek to fill my fire baskets, and told me that he is not working today, so will take care of bringing in the wood. He started the ball rolling. I grabbed the telephone and contacted my ex’s mom. She agreed to come by Thursday night and pick up the number of his metal tool boxes that have been taking up space for the past year. When my youngest son finishes work tonight, he and I will drive into the city. While he is manipulating the drill to remove wall hangings, counters, stalls and whatever furniture needs to be disassembled, I’ll continue packing documents. I counted on my fingers. There should be just enough time to complete most of the tasks…with a little help from my friends. (I love that Beatles tune!)

I’m kidding myself. There will NOT be enough time to get it done to my satisfaction…but the most important things will be handled. Time for a change of attitude!

There is wood to keep me warm; the daily 4 hour commute to work is nearly over; there is a greedy and complicated government forcing clients to keep me in a job, so I have a roof over my head. I don’t even need to get into the health, family, and friends thing to realize that I’m extremely lucky.

Speaking of family – I’m putting everything on hold to babysit my 3 little rug rats this Saturday. There’s the real priority!! I’m looking forward to all the giggles and SMILES! Sharing them with you!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

WOOD AND SOUP

We got it done! The whole 10 cords are nicely stacked in the garage. Well, my rows are slightly off kilter and have a few more spaces. Helen and the lad did a fine, neat job; their rows are like a piece of art, especially when you compare them to mine. They only teased me a little, then seemingly accepted my statement about the air circulating better with more space between the pieces. I’m guessing that I only imagined one of them murmuring “IF they don’t all topple because it isn’t tight enough”. Just in case that WAS what I heard, when I put my truck into the garage tonight I parked it a safe distance away from the wood.

Because of the toll on my body, which is not used to so much physical activity at one time, I wasn’t up to getting much else done this weekend. Helen’s husband joined us after our labour for a coffee and a chat. I didn’t want to be rude and start doing my washing or mopping my floors with them sitting there! (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!) When they left, I realized I had no edible food in the house except for Justi’s tantalizing little jars, and those are meant to accompany the main course; not be it! Armed with three recyclable bags, I headed for the grocery store.

One should never shop for food when one is hungry. I spent far more than I intended. Even worse, most of my purchases were fruits and vegetables, so I can’t pretend that it will last me for a month. When I got back home, I lugged the 5 bags (yes, I bought 2 extra) upstairs, then realized that there were more things that needed refrigeration than there was room in the appliance. Sunday is ‘cleaning-out-fridge-before-things-jump-out-at-you’ day, but I was stacking wood, remember? Sunday is also homemade soup day…and maybe I shouldn’t talk about both events in the same paragraph? It doesn’t sound very appetizing. Honestly, my ‘leftover’ soups are known to be very tasty. Because I use whatever doesn’t run away when I open the fridge door, I couldn’t for the life of me give anyone the recipe. (Kidding.)

I did salvage some beef pieces - threw them into a pot with green peppers, shallots, sliced some mushrooms and carrots, added fresh cilantro and cumin, a bit of garlic and a touch of hot sauce, a little Worcestershire, a chunk of frozen beef stock, whole grain brown rice and red kidney beans. (The recipe thing works if I write it as I go, LOL!). The mixture simmered while I discarded whatever wasn’t good from the fridge before restocking that huge, hungry bugger. By the time I finished the task, my concoction was ready for the taste test. YUM! Delicious! It never fails.

It is now midnight. I’ve done the Jacuzzi, the fires are stoked, (it’s frisky cool here in Canada!), the doggies are snuggled up on their cushions, and tomorrow is a workday. It’s time for me to crawl into my comfy bed and, hopefully, fall into the arms of Morpheus.

Hoping you are all having sweet dreams, my friends, and that you can feel my warm SMILE when you wake in the morning!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

MY FRIEND P.

Grumble, grumble…with all the anticipation of being able to actually watch the first period of hockey on TV instead of having to listen to it on the car radio during my drive home…it didn’t happen. The continual rain on Thursday knocked out my satellite. Then my internet. I had given up, and settled into bed with one of my new books and…off goes the electricity. It was 8:33 PM. The only good answer was to get in some snooze time. I woke once during the night; the clock said 10:30 PM, and the hydro was back. Realizing that the game would already be over, I stumbled up to turn off a few lights, then crawled back into the arms of Morpheus…. until 5 the next morning! Awesome! Insomniacs will rejoice with me, realizing how rare and how welcome is such a long sleep.

I’m sitting here now waiting on a truck to come and deliver 10 cords of firewood. I guess I don’t need to tell you what I’ll be doing for the rest of the day. It’s very handy having a huge garage; no digging the stuff from under the snow during the winter for me. Earlier, I moved my truck outside, got the backhoe out of the way, and did some shifting of articles that tend to accumulate in front of the woodpile each summer.

There is a young man who will be coming to give me a hand. His dad, a very close friend of mine, was my ‘right arm’ during the years I worked for the municipal recreation department.

I’m remembering those days now. I can still picture P. as an adolescent, sitting at the Clubhouse door when I arrived each morning. His family was large, and very poor. He was skipping school more often than not. Aware that he wouldn’t attend anyway, I thought it better to keep him occupied rather than let him wander in the streets. For a couple of years it was all volunteer work; his only reward was a few dollars and a free hamburger or soft drink now and then, but of course he was included in any activity that was going on, including the numerous ‘get togethers’ in my young family. Missing my brother, who was away in the army at the time, I took P. under my wing. When a full time job did became available, he was first to be hired.

Just after he turned 23, P. met the love of his life, who was the daughter of the goalie for my hockey team. Perfect! When they had their baby boy, I received his jubilant call in the middle of the night, and was more than happy to celebrate with him the next day. The baby was only 10 months old when my friend, P., died in a terrible house fire. I cried for days. I have tears in my eyes even as I write this. That’s how much it hurt.

Four years later my brother came to stay with us for a bit. He met P.’s wife, fell in love, and moved in with her. Although it didn’t last forever, one could say that my brother is the closest thing to a dad that P.’s son has ever known. He still is. The lad, now 23 himself, has two children of his own and has moved into the same apartment block as his substitute dad. He is in and out of my brother’s place every day, especially since my brother’s bout with cancer. Whenever I need a good pair of arms, and my sons are not available, I know who to call.


So my wood dude showed up while I was writing the blog. The lad came, as did Helen, and between the three of us the 5 cords were piled in no time! Tomorrow morning there will be 5 more delivered. My two helpers have promised to return early AM to give a hand. Am I spoiled or what???

The sun is out there, and the doggies are standing in the door with a ‘come hither’ expression. I leave you now to take a walk and revel in my mountain’s breathtaking array of colours. It will probably be the last chance to do so this year. The leaves are beginning to fall; I think this weekend is the climax of our Canadian autumn splendour.

Hoping you all have a great weekend, and sending you a huge SMILE! How could I not? There is wood to keep me warm in the winter, it’s a gorgeous day, and the Habs are playing tonight. Ah…but life is good.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

THE BUD SAGA - PART 16

I was right – the wood was 30$/cord MORE expensive than in the spring. Fortunately, I only need 3 cords to finish the winter. Even more fortunate is that the farmer who sold it to me was a gem – he and his wife came to deliver, exactly on time, and the wood is much better and the cut is varied; small starter pieces, burning pieces, and all-nighters for stoking. He is making me a good deal for the 20 cords I’ll buy at the beginning of spring too. Everything happens for a reason – if I had not run out before the end of winter, I’d have ordered from the former dude who sells for more per cord, with poorer quality.

I also got another little surprise, not so pleasant. My water pipes in the apartment downstairs sprung a leak. That had to be fixed immediately, no matter the cost, so Leo is here today with pieces and he & Heinz will attempt to do the job. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the bill won’t be too high. So the pay cheque was received on Thursday, and I just waved ‘bye-bye’ as it flew right by me. Ah, well – you can’t win ‘em all.

I have some groceries to pick up, and want to stop in to see how my brother is doing, so am leaving you with the next chapter of my Bud Saga.

YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - A new beginning.

I stared at the empty cage. It stood there, a blatant accusation, its emptiness the result of my incompetence. During the frantic drive to the bush, I’d rejected the nagging fear that I was too late. There was no denying it now.

Slowly I walked over and sank down onto the couch….Bud’s couch….the guilt overwhelming. My face was buried in my hands, and I think I was mumbling “I’m sorry” for the third time when I heard a noise. I looked up. I waited, holding my breath. Silence. Was my desperate mind playing tricks on me?

“Woof!” That sounded like Beef’s “Let-me-in, please” bark! I jumped off the couch and went quickly to the patio doors. Nothing. But I was sure I had heard…..

”Woof!” It came from behind me. I swung around. Of course! Helen always shut them in the basement. I ran to open that door, and the labs came swirling around me, their greeting more exuberant than usual. I knelt and hugged them gratefully, at the same time trying to peer past them to see below. I knew it even before my eyes confirmed it. The pit wasn’t there.

Not sure how long they had been shut in, I slid open the patio door, and both labs hurried outside. The phone rang. It was my son.

“For someone who promised to be careful, I see you got there in record time.” Then without the sarcasm, “I finally reached them on the cell phone. They’re on the way back from the vet’s now. They should be at the house in another fifteen minutes.”

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. So it was over.

My son’s voice was worried when he spoke again. “You gonna be okay, mom? You sure you want to stay there?”

I took a deep breath. “Yeh, I guess….” I swallowed again. I had to ring off before he could notice my state. “Look, I need to check on the labs.” His reluctance was evident, but he told me to call if anything, then hung up.

Fifteen minutes, my son had said. Panic again. Before facing them, I needed some alone time. I grabbed the flashlight, opened the door and hurried out to join the labs. Beef and Ben would show no censure for the outcome of my selfish, scatterbrained actions, but would welcome my company, and that was exactly what I needed right then.

The light snow danced in the torch beam as we traced our regular path through the trees. If only we could turn off pain like we do a light, I grieved. And my misery is nowhere near to what my friend will feel when he hears what’s happened to his favourite dog. His ‘baby’.

My eyes were tearing, and after I stumbled the second time, I turned back. We stopped at the top of the hill, the one where the pit spent hours romping with his pieces of ice. As we stood there in silence, headlights swept through the trees above us. Helen and my comrade were back.

I stored the flashlight in my coat pocket, then sat down on the edge, my legs stretched straight out in front. “This one’s for you, little Sh*t,” I murmured, and shoved off with my hands. Down I flew on the seat of my pants, the tears flowing freely now, their path warm on my cold cheeks. I could hear the labs barking and ploughing their way down with me, and we all ended up in a heap at the bottom. I lay there for a moment, then pushed them away so that I could rise, trying to pull the light from my pocket. I had it in my hand, and had just managed to get to my feet when, WHAM! One of dogs hit the back of my knees so solidly that I rolled, head-over-teakettle, the flashlight flying into the great black yonder.

“Hey!” I yelled, and was not quite standing when BANG! Down I went again. I was covered in snow, and totally confused. I had never known the labs to play this rough! On my hands and knees, I lifted my head to look around carefully. That didn’t do much good…it was so dark, but I spotted something…I sensed the motion, and had already ducked before it nailed me. The hit wasn’t square on, so I was able to keep my balance.

“HEY!” I yelled again, scrambling to my feet. I heard laughing. I recognized my comrade’s voice. The flashlight beam came on, shining right into my eyes. I put my arm up as a shield, and, after a couple of seconds, he lowered it. He was still laughing as he asked, “You seem to be in one piece. Are you okay?”

“Besides feeling like a snowman, you mean?” I asked tightly. “And what was that all about? Why’d you knock me down?”

“Not guilty!” he said, still chuckling. “I guess the pit was giving you pay-back for his cage time. Plays pretty hard, doesn’t the little bugger? He heard the barking and came out of the car like a bullet, then disappeared over here. Next thing I know I see the flashlight go flying…with you right behind it!”

My heart leapt as I struggled to understand. Had I heard him right? “The pit? Bud, you mean?”

“Of course, Bud. Why?” When I didn’t answer, he directed the light onto my face again. I guess my eyes told him what I was feeling.

“Oh damn!” he swore softly.” When your son called, I should have told him Bud was with us. Without the cone, he had chewed all the bandage off his paw. We couldn’t get an appointment until late and even then we waited for a good while…” He stopped, then came to put his arm around my shoulders. Once again, the lump in my throat was keeping me silent. “Hey, sorry. You were thinking that we’d had him put down, weren’t you? I can imagine how upset you’ve been.” He tugged on me gently. “Let’s go in and get you warmed up.”

Later, sitting around the fire and sipping hot chocolate, the three of us planned how to improve the situation. Helen was happy I was staying on, more for her son’s sake than anything else, of course, but she insisted on her willingness to help however she could. It was decided that she would stop by and let the dogs out for a bit each day while I was at work. I would make arrangements with the office for shorter hours, so the dogs would get exercise in the evenings too. A tired pit is a happy pit. Adamant about no longer using the hateful cage, I asked my comrade to dismantle and take it with him.

Remembering the dog-lover lady’s suggestion, I rolled a newspaper up tightly, waited for Bud to make a move on one of the labs, then said his name, simultaneously striking the paper smartly on the table. It worked! Startled, he stopped, then slunk back to the couch, watching me from the corner of his eye. We toasted that small success, affectionately dubbing the flimsy discipline tool the “Budwhacker”.

When they left (the cage with them), I sat in the rocker, the labs by my feet, and the pit sleeping on the couch. I studied him, reflecting on the tumultuous events I had lived since Helen’s first call for help. I wasn’t kidding myself….the pit’s behaviour had not changed…but maybe with my new attitude, Helen’s help, and the ‘Budwhacker,’ we would have an easier time of it. I got up to prepare for bed. Bud, ever alert, lifted his head. Remembering my promise, I slowly put my hand out, let him sniff at it first, then rubbed the back of his neck just behind his newly installed cone. A similar touch would get an immediate tail-wag from the labs, but not the pit. He was still, then lowered his head between his paws when I removed my hand. A buzzing fly would get more reaction!

The next few weeks were relatively quiet, compared to what I’d already been through. The cone around Bud’s neck kept him from chewing anything, and he couldn’t really make his teasing of the labs count, although that didn’t stop him from trying. Helen letting them out to run around each day helped drain some of his excessive energy. The ‘Budwhacker’ was doing its job. Every time I needed to wield it to make him listen, he would cringe and move back to the couch. One night I forgot it on the rocker when I went to bed. The next morning, little pieces of newspaper covered the floor. Bud, his expression inscrutable, sat on the couch, his head high. He had destroyed his enemy. Smiling at his innocence, I picked up the Gazette and fashioned a successor, then slapped it down on the table to test it (well, okay…I admit I wanted to show the pit he had lost this round). Bud immediately lay down, his head between his paws, and his eyes averted.

Ah….victory was sweet! But short-lived.

(To be cont’d)

The sun is shining out there today, but if the Weather Network is right, we’re in for lots of snow this coming week. The Demons are back! Contrary to some, I like the little fellows, as long as they leave by the end of March. In the meantime, Canadian winters offer spectacular scenery out here in the bush. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

Have a nice weekend, friends. Mine hast been costly so far, but SMILES are free, so I’ll send you as many as you want!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec

THE BUD SAGA - PART 15

I’ve used up my last cord of wood, so will need to find more somewhere this weekend. Sitting by the fire at the end of a hectic day is one reason I enjoy winter. Maybe the biggest reason, and even though I know it is going to be more expensive at this time of year, I’ll have to bite the bullet and pull out my wallet. I’ll wait to look at my municipal tax bill (received by mail yesterday) until the wood is safely stacked in the garage. I don’t want to spend the weekend in complete depression, LOL. I know the taxes will be much higher. The Municipality forces you to complete the renovations to the outside of your dwelling - renovations you pay for, of course – then immediately re-evaluates your house so that you pay more in taxes too. Mind you, there are no services added for the hike in evaluation! Eh bien – at least I have a house to live in. Some are sleeping out in the cold, so I’ll stop complaining.

I had the pleasure of chatting by phone with Kilroy yesterday – it had been a long time! It was nice to hear his voice again. He’s been swayed by the beautiful February weather and was musing about going for a bike ride. I have a feeling the Demons will have the last word there. Not yet, my friend…not yet!

The business awaits, so here is the next chapter of the Bud Saga, and I’m off to work MANY hours so that I can pay for both the wood and the taxes…UGH!

YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - The move

The weather was sunny and not too cold, so we spent most of the afternoon outdoors. Bud raced up and down the hill a few times, but was less energetic than usual, and I could tell his paw was hurting. By the time we came back into the house, his limp was worse. I fed them, taking care to add the medication to Bud’s bowl, and was relieved to see him crawl up onto the couch immediately after eating. There would be no annoyance tonight.

With the fire burning warmly, the dogs slumbering quietly, and the view of the full moon’s light on the snow covered mountains and trees, I reflected once again on the calm beauty of the place. A person could get really attached to this kind of life. Without the pit.

It was curiosity that led me to the laptop in the little office off the hall. I switched it on, followed the procedure for dial-up internet, and did a search for
pit-bull clubs. I began to read.

An hour later I sat back, perturbed. It was obvious these owners were passionate about the breed. Repeatedly proclaimed were the words courageous, gentleness with loved ones, excellent family companion, with a natural love for people…. it was a whole different perspective on pit-bulls. They couldn’t all be wrong. They LIVED with these dogs. I leaned forward again. The only descriptions there that could be applied to Bud were the “can-do” attitude and the strength. That he did have! And maybe protection, if this morning’s episode with that Mike dude was any indication. The sentence that struck me most was the warning that pits were not a dog for everyone, that socialization and obedience training were a must. So that was why my friend said I was spoiling his dog! Well, what in hell was I supposed to do? I hardly dared approach the pit, let alone try to discipline him.

There was a white board, so I left a message “Help! I’m babysitting a young pit-bull and he’s driving me crazy. Any advice would be appreciated.” I signed off and prepared for bed. I fell to sleep on the phrase that stuck in my mind - ‘pits are not a dog for everyone’. It was the only thing I had read with which I was in total agreement. Give me a loving lab any day!

The next morning started off badly. The hydro had gone off sometime during the night, so the alarm clock didn’t ring, and I got up late. The water pump, powered by electricity, was not working, which meant no shower and no coffee. The clothes I had put in the machine to dry overnight were still damp, but I had brought a limited wardrobe for my two week stay, so I was forced to endure the uncomfortable feeling of clammy wool pants and sweater. Not to mention having to wear snowmobile boots to complete my outfit, the pit having destroyed my dress boots the day before.

To top it off, Bud refused to go into the cage. No amount of coaxing or Cheeto’s would make him budge. Finally, exasperated beyond belief, I grabbed a leftover pork chop (it was to be my lunch) and that he did follow into his jail. When he heard the latch behind him, he whirled back around but, probably from experience, seemed to know there was no way he was getting out of there now. He gazed up at me, his tail down and the meat ignored. He started to bark as I left – short, single yelps. I hesitated, then swallowed hard, but kept walking. As I drove to work, I realized that I hadn’t shown him any thanks for the intruder incident. But, I reasoned ....he did eat my three hundred dollar boots, so we were even.

I was the employee to unlock and open the office most days so could have changed into shoes before anyone arrived. Having to walk in late, decked out in the huge snow boots, was just keeping in synch with the way the morning was going. It didn’t stop there. One problem after another kept popping up, so my mood got progressively worse. When the dog-lover lady dropped by to see me, I didn’t dare tell her that I had given up on the pit. I knew it would lead to words. She laughed about the boot chewing, saying everyone who owned a puppy had lost a couple of shoes the same way.

“He’s NOT a puppy,” I grumbled. “The vet told me he was at least a year old, if not 15 months.” She came back with the ‘pits maturing later than most’ thing, which I didn’t care to hear at all. Just before leaving she asked me if I’d tried a rolled up newspaper.

“It doesn’t hurt them, and the noise alone will often make a dog listen,” she added. “Try it out. It just might work.”

When she left, I sat back in my chair. I needed to go home. Like a tired and wounded child, it was the only place I wanted to be. Because I rarely missed a day, I felt no pangs at telling my employer that I wasn’t feeling well, I would be absent for a day or two.

My son and his buddies were surprised but delighted to see me when they came into the apartment that evening. We sat around the table, eating the Chicken-a-la-King I had prepared as a ‘Welcome me back’ meal, and I entertained them with the ‘Bud’ stories. The others agreed that I was better out of the ordeal, but my son, who knows me well, looked at me carefully.

“Whatever,” was his only comment.

When they went to watch TV, I found myself logging onto the Pit-bull Club site. Wow! The members had bombarded my plea with advice, comments and even some scolding. There were two comments that stood out. The first: “You must realize this is not a lassie breed you are dealing with”. You’re kidding! Tell me something I don’t know! and the second: “He must be shown you are the master. Be kind but be firm. It’s YOUR attitude that has to change!” What? But he’s only a dog! He should be adapting…not me! Insulted, I switched off the computer and decided to make it an early night. I would be sleeping in my own bed. This was going to be heaven!

But it wasn’t. When darkness falls, the bogeyman comes out. First of all, my bed was way less comfortable than the one at the house in the bush - and the city noises were suddenly intrusive. Worse, no matter how I endeavoured to change my thoughts, the image of Bud in the cage, especially his yelps (he had never done that before) would not stop haunting me. Maybe it was me who needed to change my attitude after all. He was just a dog…I was the one with the brain here. Or was I?

After tossing and turning for an hour, I got out of bed. I’d phone Helen and tell her I’d give it another week or two. I’d arm myself with rolled newspapers, and I’d try petting him now and then. He had protected me, after all, and the money left for food would easily purchase new boots. Hey, he had treated them as a meal, hadn’t he?

There was no answer when I phoned her residence. I tried again. Maybe I had dialled wrong. Still no-one picked up. That was weird – she was always at home. Then I called the house, and could picture the dogs sitting alone, looking at the ringing phone hopefully. No answer there either. Okay, my comrade’s cellular. He would know what was going on. When I got his voice mail, I left a message, but now I started to panic. I had told him that I wasn’t going back; to tell Helen it was up to her. It was a statement made in the heat of the moment…maybe he took me seriously. Helen had said she needed a couple of days to prepare for the labs, but she wasn’t the type to waste time. Had she decided on immediate action? If so, the labs would already be tied in her garage, and Bud…Oh no!

Frantically I dialled her number again. After ten rings, I threw down the phone and raced to my room to dress as quickly as I could. Grabbing just the necessities and my car keys, I shrugged on my coat and headed for the door. My son met me there.

“I knew it,” he said. He was thinking away ahead of me. “Leave me the phone numbers. I’ll keep trying to reach them while you drive up. And don’t drive like a fool! You can’t help anybody if you have an accident!”

I nodded my assent. But I lied. I did drive like a fool and, in spite of snowy roads, made it to the bush in forty-five minutes. It was dark and silent, much the same as when I had arrived that first night.

I was praying when I unlocked the door, but no dogs rushed to greet me. I flicked on the light and turned to look at the cage. My heart sank. It was empty.

(To be cont’d)

That’s it for today, folks. Have a good one; don’t forget to spread that SMILE around!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.