Summer Arrives!

Ah, summer.  When it finally arrives in the Comox Valley, it is simply intoxicating.  Last weekend, Bee and I took the little dogs up to Mt. Washington to parade along the boardwalk, and we were surprised to see banks of snow abutting the pathway, despite the 18C July heat.   Piper Mahalo Hewlett is a born bon vivant.  With his bright button eyes, laughing face and wagging tail,  this dog could be a poster child for planentary goodwill.

In grim contrast we have my Chance, who, despite his myopic vision, can sense a fellow canine within one thousand kilometers.   Whereupon he reacts with derisive snorts, bullish raking of the turf, and sometimes, out and out apoplectic seizures.  All six pounds of him.   The profanity that comes out of that dog's mouth is legendary, and his rage is so consuming that a whole new litany of sound effects emerges, some of which sound like the end stages of respiratory arrest.  It was all I could do to maintain my own dignity as I hauled this livid creature past a benevolent golden retriever and then a bemused beagle.  "I am NOT a small dog person!", I wanted to scream as I dragged the hydrophobic hound behind me, his nails locked and skittering while foam dripped from his miniscule muzzle.  And while I hurriedly rushed down the trail, cheeks blazing, Piper stopped to sign a few autographs and reward his adoring fan club with a free belly rub. 

It was off to the vet's for the annual check up this week.  Chance, who has never, ever forgotten the medieval torture he endured in that building, shuffled into the clinic with the air of an inmate on death row, complete with profuse shaking, heavy panting, and dripping angst.    In the waiting room there was an elderly German Shepherd, a massive Great Dane, and, surprisingly, a fellow Papillon.   And  what did Chance do?  With his tail dragging and his ears lowered to his ankles, he skulked around on his belly, slitty-eyed and sucking up to every dog there.  I'm pretty sure he was trying to convince them to take his turn, or maybe hitch a ride on the back of the Dane on a jailbreak to freedom.

Instead, he flunked his dental exam and is now signed up for a general anesthetic, cleaning and extractions next Friday.  Don't feel sorry for the little freak.  Because I, Mother of the little Freak, get to undergo a four hour double crown procedure on Tuesday morning, and that totally trumps him.

Outpourings of sympathy will be gratefully received.  Kindly don't hold back, Internet.