RIP

Tonight, I should tell you about Molson. Molson was Drew's cat. He got her when he was in his early 20s, living in a house with a bunch of other guys. You can describe those years this way "there was a turtle pool in the sun room and a weekly bus trip to bars in Kingston". That's why the cat's name was Molson.

Molson was about 9 or so when Drew adopted her from the pound (all of our animals have been rescue animals). Drew decided he wanted a cat, went to the Quinte Humane Society and asked for the cat that had been there the longest. He was introduced to Molson, who had been there just over 3 years. She came home with him that night, and they became inseparable. She slept between his ankles every night from that one to the evening she passed away, 10 years later.

Molson was a holy terror. When Drew and I moved in together, she chased my two cats behind the fridge, even though she was significantly older than them. She ruled the roost, and they knew it. In fact, she would even growl at me if I was sitting in her chair. Of course, I just didn't listen. Molson's favourite things to do were to lie, prostrate, in the sun in the summer or to sleep on the warm slate floor, about 6 inches from the wood stove in the winter, as above. But don't be lulled into complacency by her looks....she was evil. The only living being that she loved was Drew, and she loved him very very much.

One night just over a year ago, Drew and I were almost asleep when I heard a commotion in the kitchen. I got out of bed to see her having a grand mal seisure on the floor. Though we raced her to the hospital, there was nothing we could do. Molson is buried in one of the sunniest patches of the earliest thawing gardens on the northern border of our property. We both miss her. Her grumpiness was endearing and she'll always have a big part of our hearts.

Chompie McChomperton

Sabine, our dog, is better known around our house as Chompie McChomperton.

Wait, before we go any further it's "sa-BEE-nah". Sabine is a black Lab cross. We're not sure exactly what the cross is. Some days we think it's a Newfie, some days we think it's a Border Collie, and some days we think it's a Tasmanian Devil.

Most of the comic relief (other than my messing up of common sayings like "all up in my jaw") starts with Sabine and her overwhelming urge to put her mouth on everything, and usually also roll in it. Especially if these things are dead. In fact, Sabine will wander around the house with her tongue half hanging out and her mouth half open, with her lower jaw pumping away, like she's already chewing something. She even does this in her sleep.

Now, Sabine is not an indescriminate chomper.....she has standards. If an item is currently, or once was breathing, it qualifies. If it's inannimate, she has no interest. Some of her favourites include her paws, our feet or elbows (though hastily discouraged) or her own tail....she truly has a gourmet tail. Her favourite pass-time is to chase her tail, catch it, and keep turning around in circles until she's so dizzy that she almost falls over. I've been trying to catch film of this for weeks, but my camera is broken. So, I'll just ask you to imagine a 60 pound Lab-like mutt, spinning herself dizzy trying to eat herself. Trust me, it's pretty funny.

Until next time!

It Just Got to be Too Much

OK, I've GOT to start this blog. I don't really have a choice. I just can't keep it in any longer.

I live with my "soon-to-be-husband," Drew, on about an acre of land just north of where "normal people" live, according to all of my friends in Toronto. We enjoy living in the country, where we have no cable (3G connectivity and satellite is how we stay connected), no municipal water, and no natural gas. We live across the road from a beef farm with about 150 cows and a bunch of crazy border collies. We've been here about 2 years and have amassed a bit of a zoo, here.....5 chickens, 2 cats, 2 humans, 1 dog. So far. Every morning I come to work and my colleagues ask what new stories I have about the animals....they are rarely disappointed.

Tonight, I came home to discover a tree frog sitting on our back porch steps (yes, I spent some time petting it; I was shocked it didn't jump away) and it struck me.....there are a lot of condo dwellers in the big smoke down south who don't get to experience this. So, I'm taking my family's comedy routine on the road.

I won't promise to write frequently, and I won't promise to write well, but I will promise that everything on this blog will be true, and will be hilarious to me. You get to make up your own mind. You're welcome along for the ride.