There's Always Room for One More

Those of you that know me, know that I love dogs almost more than anything else in this world. I grew up with dogs, my parents instilled in me a love of them. So, I guess it's my parents' fault that I got involved with rescue. Although my mom will argue that an it's all because of one of my aunt's that I'm dog crazy!

My 'real' introduction to rescue was a gorgeous pitbull pup named Ruca. My good friend had 'rescued' her from a crack house. He saw her on the front porch with a man that was clearly high and not caring for her. My friend approached and complimented the guy on his pup. The exchange ended with my friend walking away with the pup, his wallet a little bit lighter. But his heart much fuller. Ruca was my introduction to pitbulls and how misunderstood they can be.

Later, when I discovered that I couldn't be without a dog any longer, my search for one began. I wanted what my friends had in Ruca - a constant companion, well trained and obedient, cuddly and goofy. And so I scoured the internet. I haunted the Kjiji and Craigslist listings, I Googled Ottawa area rescues. I wanted a dog and I didn't care about where it came from. Ideally, I wanted a pitbull pup. I hit a wall when I learned that these wonderful dogs have been banned in Ontario since 2005. Instead, I ended up with Remi.

Remi is a brindle mutt that captured my heart from the moment I spied him. His sisters galloped towards me; Remi checked me out and then casually made his way toward me. My heart belonged to him as soon as he planted his front paws on my legs. It wasn't much longer after that, that he was sitting in a friend's lap as we drove the three hours back to Ottawa.

My very own dog. Finally.

I filled my Facebook page and Instagram with pictures of him. I showed him off every chance I got. I answered questions from strangers on the street about where I got him. "What breed is he?" is a question that I got a lot. Lots of them were surprised when I said that he was from a rescue. "But he's so well behaved!" was the response I got to my answer.

Looking back, I shouldn't be surprised. Some people don't have a great perception of rescue dogs. But I am continually surprised by the questions that I field on an almost daily basis about my foster dogs. I've fostered two dogs to their adoptions. I've temped several others. And I'm fostering the most wonderful dog now, Nigel. Like my other foster dogs, he's a pit bull dog. He isn't available for adoption in Ontario, and while that's pretty terrible, I'm so thankful that I work with a rescue that values these misunderstood dogs and is willing to care for them while we find homes outside of Ontario.

When I first started fostering, many of my friends and co-workers thought I was crazy to bring an unknown dog into my home. They questioned how smart it was. What if it was sick? or vicious? or old? None of these concerned me. I was reassured by the foster coordinators that the dogs were assessed before they left the shelter and they were vetted; in short, there was nothing wrong with these dogs that love couldn't fix. Every dog that I have fostered has been a wonderful dog. There have been hiccups - Mango had allergies, Peyton needed to be housetrained, Nigel is fearful of everything - but the benefits have far outweighed the trouble.

And yes, it is tough to let them go. But every dog deserves a forever home. I cry a few tears when I get home without my foster. I crawl into bed with Remi and we cuddle. And then I get a message shortly afterwards, "We have a new foster for you!" and my heart leaps! I do a load of laundry and make sure we are prepped for the new arrival. And so the foster cycle starts again: the introduction between Remi and his new foster sibling; a walk with my new dog; a short run through of basic commands and before I know it- another wonderful dog is ready for their own home.

There is nothing wrong with rescue dogs. They aren't broken or unworthy. They deserve love and a soft bed. They deserve soft hands and cuddles on the couch; car rides to the cottage and so much more. So even though letting go means tears and a slightly bruised heart, it also means another wonderful dog gets a second chance. I'm so blessed to be part of a rescue organization. It's filled my heart and my home with love and joy and dogs.




*For more information about Sit With Me check out the website at www.sitwithme.ca. For information about the foster program email foster@sitwithme.ca. Sit With Me is a registered Canadian Charity.

Everyday is a test and I'm thankful for that

Today was one of those days.

Customer interactions were a test of my patience. Finding time to get everything done was a test of my management skills. Staying involved in and focussed on work today was a test of my mental endurance.

I slogged through the morning at work. I trudged through my morning rush. I struggled to stay positive.

I have this thing that I do. When I'm not in a good place -mentally, physically, spiritually- I start listing things that I am thankful for. I call it my unending list of gratitude. It's morphed since I started it. When I started it was mental, I'd think about what I was thankful for. Then it became a weekly list I wrote on a chalkboard. Now I have a notebook that I list everything in. And now it's daily.

The surprising thing is that it helps. No matter what kind of a mood I'm in or why I'm in that mood, listing things that make me thankful, lifts my spirits.

So today I'm thankful for:

• warm  cookies 
• that first sip of coffee at 5am
• wearing a scarf, but not freezing
• infectious smiles
• customers that are thankful

Mango Bananas

Yeah. So what?

My little ginger pig, Mango has been adopted.

I was beginning to think that she would be with me forever. And I was more than okay with that. She fit in wonderfully with Remi and my apartment and my friends and their dogs that would come to visit. 

BUT I AM SO EXCITED AND HAPPY THAT SHE WAS ADOPTED. 

She is now living in a muzzle free area of Montreal. And she has her very own chihuahua sister to cuddle.

Thanks to Kate for coming to Montreal with me for the home visit. And thanks to Mangos new family for seeing what a wonderful dog she is.

Thanks to Sit With Me for allowing me to foster. And for all the support through the entire process. I'm so thankful to be part of such an amazing organization.



If you are thinking about adopting a dog, consider one of our rescue dogs. Check out Sit With Me for more information and a list of adoptable dogs. 

Old Date-mares

I'm sitting in a coffeeshop. Doing some reading and a spot of writing. 

There isn't much else for me to do today. And I'm okay with that. I don't have to work today, and while that is strange (I don't usually have a mid-week day off), I am more than okay with it. 

I'm sitting near two university students, who haven't realized that everyone in the shop can hear what they are talking about. They are talking about the usual things: classes, homework, friends and BOYS. They are currently discussing a not so great date that one of them went on. It honestly doesn't sound that bad. I've been on much worse. 

For example, there was the evening I met a man for dinner at a local restaurant. We had been chatting online and via text for several days and we seemed to mesh quite well. I found him easy to talk to and interesting. He suggested meeting for dinner and said that he would make a reservation. That would make it easier with the first face to face meeting. It's so terrible when you are waiting at the entrance for your date, whom you don't really know well enough to recognize. Smart, I thought after I agreed. I arrived first. And I'm kinda glad I did. I ordered a drink and settled in to wait for my date to show. He appeared a few minutes after my drink was delivered. 

Me:   Hello!-

Him: Let's get a few things straight first, you pay for your shit and I pay for mine. No sneaking off to the bathroom and telling the waitress on the way by that it's one bill for me to pay. I'm not into that kind of shit. 

Me: *Silence in which I finish my drink quite quickly* Well, I don't think that this is going to work. 

I put my coat on and left money on the table to cover my drink. I have never been in and out of a restaurant so quickly. Neither have I been so embarrassed to be meeting someone. He was so rude and abrupt. Not at all like the guy I had been chatting with. 

The next evening he messaged me. Not to apologize for his rudeness, but because he thought I got the wrong impression of him. "I think we got off to the wrong foot, I'm not sure what I did or said to make you leave so quickly, but I guess you probably expect me to apologize."

Yeah. If you don't know what you did/said that was wrong, we are definitely not going to try to meet again. I replied saying that my first impression of him made me not want to get to know him any better and that it would best if we just lost each other's numbers. 

I haven't heard from him since. Thankfully.

On being considered dog crazy

I love dogs.

And I'm single.

A few days ago, an ever charming gent enquired about my romantic status. Hesitantly, (he is a semi-regular at the shop) I told him that I was single. Mistake number one. He leered at me, and asked what I was doing to rectify that. I sort of glared at him. Although I am single and (technically) looking, I am quite content to be single until I am no longer single. He laughed and said that I must have a couple of cats. My eyebrows shot up into my hair. Of all the stupid comments to make. I rolled my eyes and told him that no, I didn't have cats, I had dogs... two of them. Mistake number two. Which led to him declaring that I was dog crazy and would obviously be single forever.

Sigh.

I had to walk away. Yes, I have two dogs. And I love them. One is mine. The other is a dog that I am fostering for a rescue. And what does having dogs have to do with dating anyway?!

I guess in future dating adventures/attempts (online or otherwise) I shall refrain from mentioning my love of dogs, knitting and anything that makes me seem like a boring grandmother (which is something that a man called me when he asked what I like to do in my spare time).

Which makes me wonder, when am I going to meet a man who a) doesn't mind that I have a dog and foster another, b) doesn't mind that I spend time knitting, c) won't judge me too harshly for binge watching 15 seasons of Law & Order: SVU, and d) will let me listen to John Mayer without telling me that he's garbage?

January Wrap Up

Well, January is almost over. And I've blogged exactly once (well twice with this entry, but it doesn't count). Realistically, I got almost nothing done that I set out to do.

But! I started a new bible study. And I've spent more time doing things that make me happy (like writing and knitting). I've actually really enjoyed the month.

And!!!! I bought a gym membership AND I WENT TO THE GYM!

This is the first gym membership that I have ever had. And I actually enjoyed myself. I made a playlist and I just blared it. And I wasn't worried about what other people were doing/ if they were watching me. Which is huge, because I am always secretly worried about what other people think of me.

So, I guess I can't really say that January has been a write off.

So moving forward, in February I hope there is more gym, more yoga and more health. Less stress, less "being broke" and less cursing.

And of course more inspirational words!

(Yes, this is already posted, but it's my favourite.)

New year, broken promises.

It's a new year. A fresh start. A clean slate. And a thousand more cliches.

I had a interesting discussion at work about the new year and how we've hyped it into a holiday that means much more than it should. Basically, it's a day where we make broken promises to ourselves in an effort to feel better. 

A tad harsh I will admit, but I suppose there is some truth in it. I've always looked forward to the new year as a time of new beginnings. I've made resolutions and promises that I've broken. I've made some that I've kept. This year will be no different. Except, instead of saying that I'm going to go to the gym more and eat less sugar, I'm focusing on my less physical things. 

This year, I hope to spend more time with friends and less time studying. I want to knit more, spend time in daily bible study and grow my faith. I want to volunteer and do more good works. I want to be a better friend. I want to open my heart to more people. 

I was recently told that I am a "cold" person. While I don't agree with that statement (and I hope there are others who don't as well), I do find it difficult to warm up to people right away. Something else that I will attent to work on as well- being more approachable. Especially at work. 

So, in the spirit of the new year I shall go forth and start anew.

Readying for the Journey Home

It's two weeks until Christmas. And about 12 days until I start my journey home for the holidays. 

My bags aren't packed, I'm not ready to go- yet. I have presents to buy and wrap, I have to find someone to look after my fish, and I need an oil change for the jeep. 

Like most years, I am driving. And I find myself getting more and more excited about it. There's just something about driving through this country that thrills me. It's so huge and awesome. 

This year, I am making the drive solo with Remi as my co-pilot. It will be a little strange to not have someone who can talk back to me, but at least this way, no one will get tired of all the Christmas music that I plan to listen to. 

My route home has been mapped out. It looks like a long drive, but it's really not that bad. And I'm actually excited to get on the road and just drive!

The countdown on is on! 

Foster Update: Mango The Ginger Pig

"Saving one dog won't change the world, but surely for that dog the world will change forever."

- unknown

This past summer I decided that I wanted to foster dogs. I did my due diligence and research and chose to contact Sit With Me Shelter Dog Rescue. I went through a series of interviews and checks and a home visit before a dog was placed with me.

I was entrusted to look after a small pocket pitty, Mango. She was less than 40 pounds when she arrived, she has just been spayed and so she was doped up and miserable. And she wanted nothing to do with my dog Remi. Remi on the other hand wanted to play with her so badly that he was vibrating. And so Mango entered the Ottawa branch of the McLellan Family.

In the next few days, it became obvious that she still wanted nothing to do with Remi. Any time he came near her she snarled and tried to bite him. And not in a cute don't bother me way. I was starting to get worried that there was something wrong with me or Remi or that in the short amount of time that I had had Mango, that I had turned her into a dog aggressive pitbull and ruined her for life. After a week of trying every trick that I knew, I contacted that rescue group ready to admit defeat and tell them that I couldn't look after this adorable dog. Thankfully, Mel (my foster coordinator) dropped in for a home visit to see how the dogs interacted. After a few tense moments where Mango went for Remi, Mel could see that Mango just needed to be shown that she wasn't in control of Remi and coached me in how to help Mango snap out of that mind set. We practiced a few times before she left and that was that.

Since then, she and Remi are inseparable. They eat, sleep and play together. It has been so rewarding to see her come out of her shell and turn into this playful, goofy dog. She has learned her commands in English (I learned the commands in French!) and is learning to walk gently on a leash.

Not bad for a little over a month of love and gentle work.

I've also become well versed in pitbull stigma. In Ontario any dog that looks like it could be a pitbull is banned. Because Mango is a 'pitbull' type dog she is subject to the law. She is only allowed in Ontario because she is a ward of a rescue organization and her foster home is in Ontario. This means that every time she goes outside she has to wear a muzzle. And the muzzle is what brings attention to her. I've become used to people stopping and getting out of the way (even going so far as to cross to the other side of the street) as we stroll down the street.

I've heard people comment that I shouldn't be allowed to have a vicious dog. Lots of people make snap judgements about the dog I'm walking, and also about me. I had one couple stop me and ask me if it made me feel powerful to own a dog that was so vicious it had to be muzzled. I quickly explained that Mango was my foster dog and that she wasn't vicious at all. That because someone somewhere thought she was a pitbull, I had to put a muzzle on her. I told them her story, how she was essentially abandoned and even though she was so young had been pupped on at least 2 occasions. I told them that I was responsible for ensuring that Mango was looked after until she was adopted. I explained that the Breed Specific Legislation (BSL) is actually ineffective as a law, and that it should be changed to target dog owners, not dog breeds. All this is happening while Mango sits quietly at my side, tail wagging as people and dogs walk by- clear evidence that she is not what they judged her to be.

This is what I do as a foster for Mango, I engage with people and take that opportunity to educate the public on what wonderful dogs 'pitbulls' can be. I get dirty looks and rude comments, but I can put up with that as long as it means that strangers are willing to stop and listen when they ask a question.

As for Mango, she doesn't even realize that people judge her before they even know her. She's happy to go for walks and chase Remi when I let her. She knows that if she is good, she'll get belly rubs and cuddles. And if she's bad, well she'll still get those things, just after her timeout.



So far, fostering is one of the best things I've decided to do. It's just as easy to look after 2 dogs as it was to look after just Remi.

And while I know I will a little sad, when my ginger pig gets adopted, it will be nothing to the joy I will feel. So until then, I will love Mango like she's mine.

I am: Little Miss Christmas

Tomorrow is the first of December. 

And that means that I am finally able to wear my Santa hat at work. I adore Christmas. It is my favourite time of year. And since Christmas began at work on November 3, I've been waiting impatiently for December to roll around.

Most of my regular customers know my love for Christmas. And one completely fantastic couple calls me 'Little Miss Christmas'. Mostly because I've been bopping around for weeks singing Christmas carols and songs and reminding people how many days until Christmas. 

So, if you stop into my shop tomorrow, don't be surprised by my Santa hat. And don't complain about it either. Be thankful that I waited until December to wear it!

When your bad luck outweighs your good

It has been said that if I didn't have bad luck, I would have no luck.

I would agree with this statement. Whole heartedly. 

Two weekends ago, Kate and myself were slated to transport three dogs from our area to the Montreal SPCA. I'd done this once before and it was easy and painless. So we picked up the dogs and started out. It was a great little drive. Except for the fact that one of the dogs, a shitz-tu that we named Yzma, didn't stop her shrill barking. So I had to pull over an hour into the drive to take her out of the crate and give her to Kate to hold. Unfortunately for Kate, she was covered in old pee. And stank. Every time she moved, we got a whiff and it was enough to make us gag. 

We made it to the Montreal SPCA with no more difficulties and got the dogs unloaded and signed into their care. Then we jumped back into the Jeep for the ride home. Except when I went to back out there was no power steering. So I popped out to check that everything was okay. And let's just say that it wasn't.

Thankfully the people and staff of the Montreal SPCA were lovely and cool headed, we spread kitty litter all over the lot to soak up the various liquids spewed out and they had one of their people look at the engine. And then Kate and I sat in the building to think about what we were going to do. Kate had to open the next morning at 5 and we both have 2 dogs that needed to be fed and walked. Spending the night in Montreal was not an option. 

So I did what I do whenever I'm in a spot of trouble: I called Lisa. 

And she offered to drive from Stittsville to Montreal to pick us up. So I had the Jeep towed to a garage that was still open, and then Kate and I wandered the streets of Montreal, ate MacDonald's and tried to find a Starbucks that we could take refuge in until Lisa and Jan rescued us. 

Although, the whole situation was pretty terrible, the silver lining in it was the confirmation that I have wonderful friends in my life. I don't know many people that would have offered to drive 3.5 hours to pick us up and then turn around and head back to Ottawa. 

So although I have terribly bad luck, the one area I have an abundance of luck in, is my friends.

When an ending is just a new beginning

My roommate turned best friend moved out of our apartment yesterday.

And while it was an exciting event, at the same time it was one of sadness for me.

There was much joy because she was moving into her very own space- one that she had purchased. There was happiness, because how can you not be happy for someone who is gaining their stride and chasing their dreams and ambitions?

There was sadness as I loaded boxes onto the truck. There was sadness as I returned home last night to an apartment that while still full of furniture and things, felt ever so empty. There were tears (only a few, maybe 7 total) as I realized that my ending was her beginning. Home suddenly felt lonely and quiet to me.

Today, waking up alone in my apartment, I was suddenly filled with a sense of beginning. This is another new beginning for me. A new roommate, a potential friend, will move in. And we will muddle through the first few weeks until suddenly, hopefully, we click. And that sense of home that I feel is missing will return.

I know there will be times where I miss her lots, but those times will be made better with a text. And I know I will still see her, especially since she moved just a hop, skip and jump away. There will be dinners at her new place, and afternoons spent knitting. It's not an ending. Just a new beginning.

Until my new roommate moves in, I'll be spending my time alone watching Netflix on the couch, pant-less, and listening to the Frozen soundtrack on repeat. Loudly. (Sorry neighbours!)

I'm also bringing back the pop in. If you're in the neighbourhood, feel free to pop in. Don't text, just come. If I'm home, we'll visit, if I'm not.... well, better luck next time.

Home

I went home for a week at the beginning of August.

McLellan cottage. Guaranteed good times.  

Home is Prince Edward Island. It's red dirt roads and waves at the beach. It's being able to walk down the middle of the road and not worry about any traffic. It's fields full of potatoes and barley and wheat and hay. It's hearing the lobster boats before you see them bobbing on the water. It's being able to visit before calling ahead to make sure someone's home. It's coffee on the deck in the morning and sitting on the couch in the evening reading because there is no TV at the cottage. It's BBQs and family.

Oh boy, is it family.

My family, on my mom's side, is large and noisy and everything that you think it is. It's dozens of cousins and aunts and uncles and merriness and shenanigans. It's messy and fun and chaotic. And it's mine and I love them all.

Afternoon at the beach in Richard's Point
where Nan used to bring us all. 

Being home this summer was weird. It was the first summer that I'd been away since Nan passed away. There were lots of times I'd think to myself, "Well, I must run up home and see Nanny." Only to realize a second later that she wasn't there to go see. And there were dozens of times that I drove past the cemetery and I'd have the thought that I should stop in and visit her, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. Mostly because I knew there'd be tears. And I hate crying in public. But also because I knew that Nan knew I was home, she knew how I did with school, she knew everything. See the thing is, even though my Nan is gone, I still talk to her. Mostly it's while I'm lying in bed almost asleep but not quite, but it's also the quiet moments I have while I'm walking the dog or sitting in a park. There have been many moments since she passed that I've had little conversations with her.

It's weird, because I'm not the type of person that has conversations with people that are gone. But Nan was a huge part of my life and it feels wrong to not include her in it still.

Red dirt roads and water. Typical PEI.

My visit home was also a time for me to reconnect with my mom. Although we talked quite often on the phone it's much easier to talk to each other while you are sitting face to face. Mom and I laughed and cried about Nan (of course), we talked about school and life, and everything in between. It was wonderful. There have been a few moments in the last year that I've wondered if mom was upset that I had moved back to Ottawa to go to school. If she thought that maybe I was abandoning her while she still was getting over Nan's death. My talks with mom reassured me that even though she missed having me around she was more than happy that I was living in a city I love, surrounded by friends I love, studying what I discovered I love.

Light lunch at Windows on the
Water in Montague.

My time at home was filled with food. And lots of good food. There were meals out with the family. And a huge chowder night with the cousins to celebrate the birthdays of my brother and myself. There were lunches and coffee dates. Home, for me at least, is a place where there is an abundance of good food and great coffee. What makes them great, is probably the company that comes with both.

Looking back, it's easy to see why I love home so much- it's the people. It's not easy to leave them behind, but I've also got amazing people that make up my Ottawa family. And let's face it, they too love food and coffee. So it's no hardship saying goodbye to one family and heading back to see my other family.

So while PEI is home, Ottawa is also home.

And I like that.

View from our table at The PEI Preserve Company in New Glasgow.