Skylar introduces herself to most people by jumping up in a vertical wiggle with her mouth wide open, aiming her giant-looking teeth at any body part she can latch onto. It’s a bit overwhelming.
When I come home, she groans this high-pitched nervous whine that, if emitted by a human, would be a strong indicator of a social anxiety, or perhaps a precursor to an epileptic fit.
She whacks her tail with the ferocity of a beaver against walls, legs, the floor or my face, when we are lying in my bed, feet-to-head.
Skylar assumes the position of a sprint runner at the start line when my morning alarm goes off and freezes herself in slobbery anticipation for me to roll my legs over the bed.
“Fooooood!” is the chorus I imagine is ringing through her minute brain. She takes off to the kitchen, slides her doggy toenails across the tile and jumps her front two feet, hops them is more like it, until I am kind enough to deposit two scoops of kibble in her bowl.
I think she just breathes in, using all her lung’s capacity. She doesn’t really chew, that takes too much time. And when you’re as excited as she is about eating, you don’t have time to enjoy whatever it is you’re eating. You just swallow, and hope you don’t later eat something your system rejects and cause all your kibble to come back up. Then again, if you’re Skylar, you eat throw-up too.
Skylar eats shoes, socks, bones, Goober (the kitten)’s toys, pine cones, pine needles, sometimes her own poop, depending on the day and flavour, I assume
As neurotic and “energetic” (that’s dog owner talk for crazy) as she is, Skylar is the best relaxant and cuddle partner. She wedges herself between my legs and the cough, propping her chin on my thigh, while we watch TV. When we go on walks in the beautiful trails behind our house, she darts from male pee spot to pee spot, but never strays too far from me, making the walk enjoyable for me, energy-spending for her. Then she collapses at home and I forget for a moment what an insane puppy she is.
Goober helps me forget this too, by acting as a diversion. He pops his little head out from behind couches and corners, providing a teeny-tiny target for Skylar to clumsily lunge at. She usually opens her mouth around the scruff of Goober’s next, but never causes harm, save for the slobber that acts as kitty hair gel. Goober’s hair is usually spiked these days.
The two of them chase each other. Don’t shake your head at me for exposing my kitty as prey to a larger animal. He makes her yelp with his needle claws, and they both have an understanding they share of when is play time, and when is cuddle together on the fluffy blanket in an adorable photo op time.
The two of them are both teaching me to enjoy simple pleasures, as that is the only luxuries to which they are accustomed, or that they understand. It is nice to know there are two furry creatures at home that live for the moment I walk in the door. And feed them.

Labels: kitten, puppy

Wintertime, and the living is...harder. Grocery carts now must manoeuvre over bumpy snow, my car windows fog and then ice up in a frustrating daily cycle, the produce flat out sucks and when I leave the house, I look like the Michelin man, all bundled up.
When I do outdoor interviews, I take my pencil, because pens freeze up and then I can’t do said interviews. My oil heating bills come in at a whopping $500, and just when I need my sun friend the most, I cannot tan in the middle of a swimming pool because the sun is only up 5 hours a day and also it is usually -30 degrees Celsius.
That said, I have found some things I file under the Cheap Thrills heading in my brain’s organization system. Things that tickle my pickle (I never thought I’d be the kind of person to use that saying), that cost little and that surprise me.
Here, in no particular order, are the cheap thrills of the morning:
1- Finding the box of English Breakfast tea just when I thought a cup of tea at breakfast would be perfect.
2- Listening to the new Hilary Duff album on my way to work, singing along to “With Love” and even moving my head and shoulders as if I am performing, and the guy in the red truck next to me isn’t staring.
3- Laughing as a giant Grate Dane comes barreling at my puppy on our walk this morning, his owner hollering from about 100 metres away, “Don’t worry, he’s friendly” and my puppy whines and hides behind me. What a wuss! So I clearly moved out of the way and let this Grate Dane named Charlie run full throttle at Skylar and slobber all over her as she looks at me with fear. She’s fine.
4- The absolute silence surrounding my mountain house.
5- Ripping off yesterday’s page of my Living Green page-a-day desk calendar. It’s so fun, this little ritual, and to see what today’s tip will be. Maybe I won’t take reusable grocery bags with me to the store every time (gotta have something to pick up dog poop!) but it’s a thrill. :)
6- Satsuma body wash and body butter. A wonderful pick-me-up that keeps smelling awesome. It’s thrilling because of its sweet smell and because there is no Body Shop up here, so it kind of counts as a luxury.
It’s only 10 a.m. and I’m sure there’ll me many more cheap thrills before day is done. But it’s much more fun to sit and thin about those than to get back to work, which I must now do. Editor will notice if I’m typing all morning and don’t actually hand in a story.

Labels: music, puppy, Whitehorse, winter

I’ve often found that the most spontaneous, fun things I do end up providing me a great sense of adventure, pride and joy in retrospect. Piercing my tongue? what fun driving my parents nuts! Getting tattooed at a shady biker bar at age 15? Rebellion at its finest. Making out with that cute guy I don’t even know? Well, that one got me a husband. See?
It is with that blind faith in spontaneity that I got picked up in the truck after work yesterday and directed husband to a woman’s house in the subdivision next to us. I planned on waiting till we got there to surprise him with his Christmas present (albeit early) and I couldn’t even wait that long!
“We’re going to go see golden retriever puppies!” He grew a huge smile and looked over to the passenger seat.
“Really? You want one?”
“Oh yes yes yes!
We got to the house and two insane dogs jumped and greeted us with their crazy dumb dog smiles, leading us to the pen, and their human owners, around back. Two tiny puppy heads poked up above the pen walls and I was sold. Like, instantly. Him too.
So we went to Wal Mart to buy dog things we thought we’d need, like anti-chew spray and a cute pink collar for the runty girl we picked out. We called the owners to confirm. Our discussion was probably on parallel with that of eight-year-olds.
“Do you want it?”
“Ya, it is sooo cute.”
“It’d be a lot of work.”
“I know, I know, I know. I’ll do it. Pleaseeeee.”
So it looks like we’re getting a 13-week-old golden retriever puppy this weekend. We haven’t decided on a name yet, but we like Mango and Skylar.
I am totally unprepared, we have to dog-ify the house, I have no idea if puppies sleep through the night or if they need to get up and pee at some point. But it’ll be so much fun, right?

Labels: puppy