Happy Friday dear readers.
This Friday is an extremely happy one for me indeed as, in a few short hours, I get to begin my weekend courtesy of “summer hours”. Bless you summer hours bless you.
Also adding to my extreme happiness is that my fiancé is free as a bird this weekend. For the past 5 or 6 weekends he has been hard at work Saturday and Sunday leaving me to my own devices.
And so, as the minutes tick by my thoughts trail to what we might get ourselves up to during our free time.
The nice thing about living in Toronto is that we always have some kind of festival that you can go to on a weekend. This weekend doesn’t differ and presents us with Woofstock- a festival for the dogs.
Taking place just outside St. Lawrence Market all weekend long, Woofstock offers a bevy of dog friendly booths and other dog-related activities including a few hilarious(or not hilarious if you take your dogs very seriously) shows- to me, they always make me think about “best in Show”- haven’t seen it? Please do.
So I have never had a dog in life. When I was little, we got a cat by default having bought her for my Grandmother and having her swiftly returned to us by my Grandfather. Her name was cookie- she was the runt of a Tabby cat litter and she was a delight. I didn’t even think dog during the Cookie era. She was just as fun as I could have ever imagined a dog being plus, she let us dress her up in our old baby clothes. Probably one of the funniest memories we have of her was when my sister was squeezing her wearing new red flannel pajamas after a shower only to turn all of Cookie’s white hairs pink from the fabric dye. That and the time we thought we lost her only to hear her pitiful mews hours later from under the guest room bed where she had clawed through the underside of the mattress and gotten herself lost and slightly tangled in the exposed coils.
When we moved from out second home from Richmond Hill to the city, Cookie had to be given away. My dad had developed bad cat allergies and since our new house was about half the size of our old one- it had to be done. Cookie went to live with my dad’s secretary and hopefully had a wonderful cat life.
In university I was a crazy person and did anything and everything that a crazy person would do. I was really into karma back then and after reading an ad posted to a pole calling for “homes for abandoned animals”, I felt that it was my karmic duty to save a creature. I thought dog but laziness and logic lead me back to cat. Silky, a 2-year-old huge grey cat with yellow eyes came to me from the home of a woman who was dying from Cancer. I was certain that this act of kindness on my part guaranteed me a lifetime of happiness (of course this was also the year that I dropped out of university- should have perhaps been my first clue that I was wrong). When I came home mid-year after adopting her, she was granted residence in my parent’s home despite the allergies and despite their desire not to have a cat.
This Friday is an extremely happy one for me indeed as, in a few short hours, I get to begin my weekend courtesy of “summer hours”. Bless you summer hours bless you.
Also adding to my extreme happiness is that my fiancé is free as a bird this weekend. For the past 5 or 6 weekends he has been hard at work Saturday and Sunday leaving me to my own devices.
And so, as the minutes tick by my thoughts trail to what we might get ourselves up to during our free time.
The nice thing about living in Toronto is that we always have some kind of festival that you can go to on a weekend. This weekend doesn’t differ and presents us with Woofstock- a festival for the dogs.
Taking place just outside St. Lawrence Market all weekend long, Woofstock offers a bevy of dog friendly booths and other dog-related activities including a few hilarious(or not hilarious if you take your dogs very seriously) shows- to me, they always make me think about “best in Show”- haven’t seen it? Please do.
So I have never had a dog in life. When I was little, we got a cat by default having bought her for my Grandmother and having her swiftly returned to us by my Grandfather. Her name was cookie- she was the runt of a Tabby cat litter and she was a delight. I didn’t even think dog during the Cookie era. She was just as fun as I could have ever imagined a dog being plus, she let us dress her up in our old baby clothes. Probably one of the funniest memories we have of her was when my sister was squeezing her wearing new red flannel pajamas after a shower only to turn all of Cookie’s white hairs pink from the fabric dye. That and the time we thought we lost her only to hear her pitiful mews hours later from under the guest room bed where she had clawed through the underside of the mattress and gotten herself lost and slightly tangled in the exposed coils.
When we moved from out second home from Richmond Hill to the city, Cookie had to be given away. My dad had developed bad cat allergies and since our new house was about half the size of our old one- it had to be done. Cookie went to live with my dad’s secretary and hopefully had a wonderful cat life.
In university I was a crazy person and did anything and everything that a crazy person would do. I was really into karma back then and after reading an ad posted to a pole calling for “homes for abandoned animals”, I felt that it was my karmic duty to save a creature. I thought dog but laziness and logic lead me back to cat. Silky, a 2-year-old huge grey cat with yellow eyes came to me from the home of a woman who was dying from Cancer. I was certain that this act of kindness on my part guaranteed me a lifetime of happiness (of course this was also the year that I dropped out of university- should have perhaps been my first clue that I was wrong). When I came home mid-year after adopting her, she was granted residence in my parent’s home despite the allergies and despite their desire not to have a cat.
She was the worst menace devil-cat in the world. In university I had lived with 2 girls who also had cats (were we the crazy cat apartment? Maybe we were- we had lizards too- chew on that) so perhaps I didn’t notice the satanic disposition of Silky. Perhaps being occupied playing with her cat friends she didn’t have time to devise ruthless plans to make my life a living hell, but home at my parents she had nothing but time.
One of her favorite activities was waiting until we had all gone to sleep and then darting across the living room and flinging herself against the windows at the front of the house. This obviously created a huge noise and the first few times it happened, it sounded like we were being attacked. No, no attack, just the cat smashing her cat body against walls. She of course, never did this during normal waking hours of the day- as if she was meaning to scare us/ impede our hours of much needed sleep.
On the day that she ran away, my mom was bringing in groceries and she will swear to this day that the cat smiled maniacally at her before running out the door never to be seen again. Not even my “Have you seen my kitty” signs that I plastered all over the neighborhood brought signs of her back. At the time I was pretty sad- in hindsight she really sucked as a pet.
Then of course, continuing with my cat story that began as a dog story but somehow became feline, when I moved in with my fiancé, we took his cat- an old, fat orange cat not unlike Garfield. Pumpkin is actually like a dog. He plays, he cuddles, he is active and smart and funny- he lasted about 2 months before my fiancé’s allergies made him unbearable and we had to return him to their family home.
Although I often email pictures of hypoallergenic cats to my fiancé, I have a feeling a dog is a more realistic goal and ever since we have been getting prepared.
We have a name, a breed, now all we need is a house to put it in and the money to spend on it- no big deal right?
Then, we too can attend Woofstock and not have to borrow one of his sisters dogs to go and not feel like the misfit at the party. I cant imagine anything more weird than going to Woofstock for fun without a dog- I guess it would be fun to see all the dogs though? Maybe not so weird? I guess doing one of those Cornfield mazes at Chudlieghs Apple Farm with all the kids and realizing that you are the only adult without a child in the maze and feeling like a pervert despite not having ANY perverted intentions would be weirder. Not that it has happened. Ever.
A convoluted comeback to the topic of dogs, I know, but my mind has already wandered again and as lunch time approaches, I am focused far more on lunch than canines and felines.
Happy weekend all, if you have a doggie, check out Woofstock and one year in the near future I hope to see you there.
On the day that she ran away, my mom was bringing in groceries and she will swear to this day that the cat smiled maniacally at her before running out the door never to be seen again. Not even my “Have you seen my kitty” signs that I plastered all over the neighborhood brought signs of her back. At the time I was pretty sad- in hindsight she really sucked as a pet.
Then of course, continuing with my cat story that began as a dog story but somehow became feline, when I moved in with my fiancé, we took his cat- an old, fat orange cat not unlike Garfield. Pumpkin is actually like a dog. He plays, he cuddles, he is active and smart and funny- he lasted about 2 months before my fiancé’s allergies made him unbearable and we had to return him to their family home.
Although I often email pictures of hypoallergenic cats to my fiancé, I have a feeling a dog is a more realistic goal and ever since we have been getting prepared.
We have a name, a breed, now all we need is a house to put it in and the money to spend on it- no big deal right?
Then, we too can attend Woofstock and not have to borrow one of his sisters dogs to go and not feel like the misfit at the party. I cant imagine anything more weird than going to Woofstock for fun without a dog- I guess it would be fun to see all the dogs though? Maybe not so weird? I guess doing one of those Cornfield mazes at Chudlieghs Apple Farm with all the kids and realizing that you are the only adult without a child in the maze and feeling like a pervert despite not having ANY perverted intentions would be weirder. Not that it has happened. Ever.
A convoluted comeback to the topic of dogs, I know, but my mind has already wandered again and as lunch time approaches, I am focused far more on lunch than canines and felines.
Happy weekend all, if you have a doggie, check out Woofstock and one year in the near future I hope to see you there.
Xoxo
Jane
No comments:
Post a Comment