Creampuff Revolution

Creampuff Gets the Shift

My former roommate, Jesk, had a friend in law school who we'll call Joba. Joba was a perfectly nice fellow - very smart and also, tall. It was obvious to everyone, including Jesk, that Joba had a sizeable crush on her. And while she enjoyed his company as a friend, she was not in any way romantically interested in him. 

Unfortunately, Joba, for whatever reason, felt unable to declare his love outright - and therefore, Jesk was unable to let him down gently. Instead, Joba would just hang around near Jesk, acting like her boyfriend and cockblocking her endlessly at parties and the like.

This went on for YEARS and frustrated Jesk to no end. FINALLY, Joba asked her to go to a movie (but still in ambiguous, non-romantic terms). Jesk fell on this opportunity like a starving dog and said she'd love to go to the movie AS FRIENDS, RIGHT? BECAUSE I LIKE YOU HAS A FRIEND, ONLY A FRIEND.

Joba responded "Of course only as friends, don't flatter yourself" [I paraphrase] and basically acted like she had suggested he was asking her to shit in his mouth.

While his complete denial of his crush on Jesk was still annoying to her (and me, because I had to hear about it endlessly), he did back off after that, which was nice. Don't feel badly for him - his mad dating skillz clearly improved after this incident. I see from stalking him just now on Facebook that he just married a really good looking young lady. Kudos, Joba. Kudos.

Anyway, I was thinking about this story of failing to declare intentions and the anger that results the other day when Emmy Lou and I were enjoying a walk on a rare sunny day in our neighbourhood.

As we drew near the JJ Bean, I noticed a fellow across from the coffee shop looking shifty. Kind of noodling around like he was talking to himself, nothing particularly weird. But because Emmy likes to stop and sniff regardless of my proximity to shifty people, I decided to cross the street so as to not get involved with whatever was happening.

A few minutes later, we reached a park and lo and behold, Shifty Guy was there, walking up to towards us on the path! "Ah well", I thought, "It's a lovely day and shifty guys enjoy the outdoors too." We walked a little farther and then headed down a different path. A few seconds later, I noticed that SG had changed his trajectory and was now headed over to our side of the park.

Huh.

Since my passive aggressive avoidance techniques hadn't worked, I decided to just wait for SG to come over and make his move. He did come over...and then, standing about five feet away from us, he pretended like he was looking for something behind a park bench.

"Okay," I thought, "fine. You had your chance to...whatever your plan was. Now screw off."

Emmy and I slowly made our way back across the park and SG stayed on his bench. Then, he moved to a bench closer to us. And then, he moved to an even closer bench. And then, as we headed back into the neighbourhood, I saw SG get up off his bench and start to follow us.

By this time, I was annoyed and also, a little creeped out. What the hell was going on here? 

We came around the corner onto Commercial again and I made Emmy Lou's day by allowing her to sniff a garbage can while I stood there, facing the corner SG would be rounding shortly. He did come around the corner and we made eye contact. I just stood there and stared at him. Emmy tried to eat a gum wrapper and choked a little. He saw me, blinked away and then, as he walked by me, he actually TURNED HIS HEAD all the way to the other side of the sidewalk, like he was pretending I wasn't there staring at him.

Then Emmy and I started following him.

SG kept walking to the end of the block and then went around the corner across from the JJ Bean, where I'd first seen him. 

Then, because I was nervous SG would follow us home, I took a fairly circuitous route back to the homestead, stopping frequently to make sure no one was following us.

Emmy didn't know what she'd done to merit so many random sniff stops, but she took full advantage of it.

It's been a few days and I'm still annoyed by a) how menaced I felt in broad daylight in my own neighbourhood and b) how because SG, like Joba, didn't declare his intentions, I didn't get the opportunity to end things on my terms.

Also, I still can't decide what his motivation was. Did SG want to:

• Talk to me about Jesus
• Ask me for money
• Suggest we get it on
• Check to see if I was someone he'd previously gotten it on with (hint: no)
• Take money from me without my consent
• Teach me a lesson about avoiding shifty guys by following me around
• Practice his suspect tailing techniques for the police academy (Grade: F)
• Pet my dog
• Ask me for money for Jesus 

 I'd say "History will decide" but the reality is that I'll probably just punch this guy in the nads if I see him again.

Creampuff Recap

Oh hi! I didn't see you there. Mainly because I haven't been here in a couple of months. HA ha!

I realize that while most of you are good kind people, you don't really give a shit where exactly I've been or what exactly I've been up to the last couple of months. But one of the great things about having a blog is that it operates as a handy record-keeping device for my rapidly failing memories! What follows is a brief, photo-heavy recap of what the hell has been going on.

1. My short play Anne and Diana Were TOTALLY DOING IT was published in Queering the Way: A Loud n' Queer Anthology! It's a real book - you can buy it and everything.

 They had a book launch here at Little Sister's. Thank you to our super awesome Vancouver friends who came to hear us authors read from the book and who then bought the book and then pretended it wasn't SUPER DORKY to let me autograph the book. I felt like a lesbian rock star.

Also, I got to meet Kim in real life for the first time!  I used to read her blog when she had a blog. She is delightful. It was a magical moment, caught on film. 

2. I got new glasses. See above.

3. We had my family over to eat turducken for Thanksgiving. Yes, that's right - a chicken stuffed in a duck stuffed in a turkey. Holy fuck was it ever good. Sadly, we didn't get any good photos of the unsliced turducken and once it's sliced open, it looks like an autopsy. But I DO have a cute photos of my brother Jaro and his girlfriend Trsm's dog, Jasper, hoping that a little turducken might fall his way.

As you can see, he and Emmy Lou were thick as thieves, if by "thick" you mean "avoided" and by "thieves" you mean "each other assiduously."

Jaro also brought Emmy a new toy. Thanks, Jaro. Really great.

4. I knit! Most of my knitting is SUPER SECRET HOLIDAY KNITTING but this little sweater has already been sent off to its tiny recipient, Charlotte.

5. Roadtrip! Right after Thanksgiving, Katr and I and Emmy Lou drove down to Monterey, CA, where Katr was speaking at a conference. We stopped in Portland, Grant's Pass and Fortuna on the way down and Eureka and back to Portland on the way home. I drove the whole way. With my mind. Katr did what she calls the "actual driving". I have to applaud her efforts, particularly when we visited Crater Lake, now officially the most terrifying, guard-rail free, shoulder-free, sheer-40-foot-drop-on-either-side-of-the-one-lane-road drive of my entire life.

Even though we were both sick the first part of the trip, it was still pretty fun and hilarious, mainly because of the dog.

Emmy Lou was in dog HEAVEN. Car rides! New places to crap! Back in the car! New places to crap! A lake in a crater! The mountains! The sea! The beach! The laundromat! The wharf! The lobby! Every day was a smorgasboard of doggy delight.

Crater Lake (not shown - dog)

Dog on the public beach in Monterey

Dog discovers pelicans on Fisherman's Wharft (not shown - many pelicans)

Dog peering into other people's hotel rooms at the Portola Plaza

Dog exhausted at the Vintage Plaza in Portland

6. Edmonton! After six years of sending pieces off to be performed there, I finally got to actually attend the 20th Annual Loud n' Queer Cabaret, where all of my Anne of Green Gables dreams came true!! My adorable parents came and brought their friends and it was super lovely to see some of my favourite queers in action. Sadly, there are no photos. Like Anne, you will just have to imagine it!

7. Skunk. I finally got a grainy, Lock Ness monster-style photo of the skunk from the safety of my friend Hildy's rental car one night. Look at the SIZE of that thing! It continues to terrorize the neighbourhood.

8. Anniversary! I kinda can't believe that our big gay wedding was four years ago this month. FOUR YEARS! My brother Jaro remembers it like it was yesterday...

We didn't get each other gifts this year - we opted instead to revisit our honeymoon. Stay tuned for photos of me drunk in the pool like this one:

 

 

Pwned

Wednesday, September 20th sucked a lot of wang.

It started out with Katr being sick with a horrible cough. Katr only gets sick once every five years or so, so she likes to make the most of it. Every cough sounds like aliens are trying to communicate. It is truly pathetic and I felt terrible for her.

Next on our gay agenda was some devastating health news about a family member. So that was pretty much it for the day.  We spent the entire day on the couch, staring at the TV, Katr coughing like she was literally hacking up a lung and me weeping and eating my feelings.

If all of the world's ills could be solved by ice cream and kettle corn consumption, I would have made the world a better place on Wednesday.

As night fell, we stirred and started to make a move towards the bedroom, to continue our hacking and weeping, but in a horizontal position. As usual, our patio door was open to let in the night breeze. As I got up to close it, Emmy Lou took off outside like a shot.

I assumed she'd spotted a squirrel in the yard and I was prepared to let her have her fun - she'd been trapped inside all day with crying, expectorating fatties, after all - but it turns out that it wasn't a squirrel.

It was the skunk.

In our yard.

And as Emmy Lou joyfully gamboled towards it, the skunk sprayed Emmy Lou in the face.

Chaos erupted.

Most dogs, after a skunk sprays them in the face, will leave the skunk alone. Not our dog. Our dog went in for round two. Our dog is so butch. So we're screaming at Emmy to leave the skunk alone and screaming at the skunk to leave and in the end we managed to corral the pooch but the only way to separate her and the skunk was to bring her inside the house, where she proceeded to spit foamy skunk oil all over the front hall.

It's funny that I was so worried about the skunk and yet had no skunk-begone type products in the house. It's like I didn't want to buy them in case they jinxed us. Well, it turns out that was fucking stupid.

I stood in the foyer with our foaming dog on her leash while Katr looked up what to do and then called the emergency vet, just to make sure. Then Katr got in the vehicle and had to drive to four different Shoppers Drug Marts in order to get enough hydrogen peroxide to sluice the skunk oil from our dipshit dog. We washed the dog - we threw out a lot of towels and a rug and our clothes.

We slept with our lavender eye pillows under our noses like pomanders. The dog slept the sleep of the just. And the next morning, I went to the pet store and loaded up on Nature's Miracle and then went next door and loaded up on ice cream. Because I needed both.

It's been a few days but I think that the skunk-odor remover and the constant fans have done their work - the house seems relatively skunk free! The dog only stinks when she's wet or hot! Sadly, though, the attack occurred in the garden and I fear that might be it for our skunk-oiled crop of cherry tomatoes.  

So NOW when we leave the house at night, I have to check the yard AND the boulevard for the fucking skunk. And ditto on the way back. Emmy Lou is not allowed out in the yard at night alone anymore. And really, I've had enough.  This thing is going DOWN. Stay tuned.

Puppy love

I was walking Emmy Lou on a beautiful sunny day a few weeks back and we came across this puppy.

This puppy had no collar or leash on, nor did he seem to have an ear tattoo. He also didn’t seem to know that cars could kill him, because he kept trying to beetle out on to the street. There was no one around. No one calling for him. And he was wandering in a really bombed out looking area – an area that didn’t really say “Hey hey! We have cute puppies!”

Huh. Uh…what do I do?

The little puppy immediately latched on to Emmy, which she tolerated only because he didn’t try and jump onto her face. After a couple of minutes, a lady walking her two dogs came by and I asked if she recognized the puppy. She didn’t – but she did have an extra leash at her house down the block. So we leashed up the wandering puppy and then kind of stared at each other, like two strangers who suddenly had a puppy situation.

She suggested she could take the puppy to the pound, which was only a few blocks away. But I thought it would be better to take some pictures of the puppy to put up on Craigslist first – and the SPCA is only a block or two from my house. So that’s when I called Katr to let her know we had a new dog I was bringing home a stray. She took it well. She called him Indiana.

We posted the ad on Craigslist and immediately got the array of responses you’d expect, such as:

“If you don’t find the owners, I’ll take the dog – he’s so cute!”

“This is my dog but I have no photos or identifying information FUCK YOU WHY ARE YOU STEALING MY DOG”

“Take him to the pound, you total dipshit.”

“Do not under any circumstances take him to the pound.”

“Maybe he’d be better off if you kept him. Thank you for taking him home. You are a good person.”

I was filled with self-doubt. Indiana stayed away from controversy, preferred to scratch his ears and flop around cutely.

After a few hours, I walked Indiana over to the SPCA to get him scanned for a microchip and to ask them what I should do with him. I knew taking him to Animal Control was probably what I SHOULD do, but he was so little! And floppy! The kind Australian at the SPCA confirmed his age and that he had no ID tattoo or chip – and while I was there, she called Animal Control to see if anyone had been looking for him. Nada. She told me I was a nice person to take care of him for the night, so I figured I had her blessing to not take him to the pound.

Back at the homestead, Emmy was fucking done with this puppy. So we tried to pawn him off on our upstairs neighbour for the night, to keep him out of Emmy’s fur and because our neighbour is planning on getting a puppy soon anyway. Our neighbour returned him after two hours for excessive whining and constant indoor whizzing. And that’s how I ended up sleeping in our guest nook with a puppy who really just wanted to lick my face all damn night.

Also, I tried to get him to pee outside. No dice.

In the morning, around 4:30 a.m., I got up to go to the bathroom. The puppy also got up, went into our bedroom and shat, then went into the kitchen and whizzed.

I decided to take the dogs for a walk. We were out for about 2.5 hours, in the dark, sniffing people’s yards. I’m glad no one called the cops.

By the time it was light out, I was exhausted and tired of having to do everything with one hand while I held on to the puppy. Fortunately, I had some backup for Day 2 and I knew I just had to make it ‘til lunchtime until C would come and take over the puppy fostering.

In the meantime, our friend Marie came over and the puppy took to her right away, so I had time to actually do some work.

Although I confess that most of my work time was spent taking pictures of the puppy.

C picked the puppy up as planned and then texted me all day and night about how the puppy whined and howled all night if they left him alone and then, when everyone was watching, whizzed in their kitchen. It seems that Indiana had a very limited repertoire.

The next day, I got a call from the SPCA – they had found the owner! Apparently, she and her husband work on movie sets and this little puppy – Trigger – was in the latest “Hallowe’en Buddies” film that had recently wrapped here in Vancouver. I assume his role was “cute puppy whizzing”. They took possession of the puppy on Monday – he escaped on Tuesday – the new owner was deathly ill and her husband was away, so after two days of combing the neighbourhood, she finally called the SPCA.

The SPCA gave her a serious chewing out, then gave me her number, so I got to be the good guy when I called to let her know her puppy was safe. She had totally lost her voice from being sick and also, the crying. And later that day, Trigger was reunited with his family. Happy ending!

I felt quite thrilled by the outcome of this story, mainly for these reasons:

1. I did something!

2. It was probably the wrong thing, according to some people.

3. It all worked out.

4. My wife clearly loves me.

5. I got to discover why we are NEVER GETTING A PUPPY.

Creampuff’s Third Anniversary Tail

Today is Katr and my third gay wedding-aversary. Happy Anniversary, Katr!!

To be honest with you, I’m not really sure what I did to deserve someone as great as Katr but I think it’s best not to pull at that thread, especially in front of her. There’s always a chance she might think “You know…maybe I’d be better off with someone who DOESN’T watch Hoarders to feel good about herself or shout “Release the Kraken!” when she’s in the ladies’ shitter.” Shhhh…never think that, Katr. Shhhhh.

I have a very long list of reasons why I love Katr more and more with each passing day and don’t really know where to start - Her cleverness? Her wit? Her rack? Her infinite patience? How she claims to still love me even when I ruin La-Z-Boy Night by bringing home some random puppy who craps on our bedroom floor (more on that in a future post)? I could write a book.

But for some reason this year, I was so embroiled in planning for Katr’s birthday month (or, as I call it, Katevember) that I TOTALLY did not get Katr anything for our anniversary. FIRED.

When I confessed this to her a few days ago, she told me that it was okay, because she’d gotten me a big surprise gift for Christmas (she’d been hinting at it for ages) and it was arriving in time for our anniversary – and since the gift was really going to be enjoyed by BOTH of us, maybe it should be our anniversary present! So naturally, I was all over that idea, like a me all over Katr’s rack.

When the box arrived yesterday, Katr left it up to me to decide when to open it and I said we should save it for our actual anniversary and then she said “Really?” in the voice of a woman who’s been keeping a really big secret for several months and CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE and then we opened the box together.

This is what was inside.

Yes. That’s right. It’s a giant painting of a close up of our dog’s face. HAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!

Waaay back in the summer, we watched a show on Animal Planet called Cats 101 and they featured Cassie Graus, who paints giant close-ups of smoosh-faced cats (among other things). And Katr secretly contacted her and commissioned a giant close-up painting of our smoosh-faced dog.

I’m not going to lie to you. I was totally beside myself when I saw this. I mean, she got every detail – the plump wrinkles, the scar under one eye, the slightly suspicious look that says “Where’s my treat, fattie?” This photograph does not BEGIN to capture the majesty of this painting. I laughed. I wept. It was better than smoosh-faced cats.

And now we are those lesbians who have a portrait of their pet in the living room. JEALOUS?

Oh, Katr…how I love you. Thank you for the most awesome – in every sense – gift ever. I’m referring to you giving me your heart but the painting is a close second, baby.

Creampuffs go the dogs. Hahahaaa! Oh, I kill myself…

I don’t know if you are aware of this…but we have a dog. Her name is Emmy Lou (or, as our friend Boka calls her, Princess Emmeline Louise). Emmy Lou is a wrinkly pile of suspicion and stubbornness and gas but also total cuteness and ridiculosity and we basically cater to her every whim like the serfs she knows we are.

We got Emmy Lou from the TnT Sharpei Rescue, who, like all dog rescue folk, are super super awesome and always on alert, trying to save wrinkly dogs from bad situations and find them happy homes. Katr and I constantly visit their Facebook page, looking at cute dogs and weeping copiously over sad dog abuse stories and happy ending stories alike. Because if sad wrinkly dogs don’t make you cry just a little, then you’re DEAD INSIDE.

Now that we have our own place and a tiny yard, we though about trying to help the rescue out more, maybe by fostering dogs, but something tells us that the Princess prefers a one-dog set-up. And by “something”, I mean “Emmy Lou”.

But we were still looking for an opportunity to help out somehow - so when we heard that cute wrinkly Roy had a potential new home, if only someone could pick him up at the shelter and drive him the 5 hours to Cache Creek this Saturday, Katr said “Let’s ride!”

The folks from TnT co-ordinated everything with the shelter and with Liz who was going to pick Roy up in Cache Creek and take him the 6 hours back to Prince George - and we borrowed a crate from Bully Buddies, just in case Roy was a nervous traveller – and Saturday morning, we headed out for some wrinkly fun!

And now, here’s all any of us really want to see – shar peis:

Roy! Roy was very stressed out at the shelter and was REALLY excited to get out of his kennel. Shar peis are very reluctant to do their business where they eat/sleep and once he was out, it looked like a buffalo had rampaged through the yard, leaving piles and piles of steaming fun. It just kept happening. Over and over and over. My brother would have been VERY impressed.

Roy: Hi! What are you sniffing? Does it smell good? Should I sniff it? I’m a dog! Hi!

Emmy: Hello, Roy.

I highly recommend this two-shar pei stretch for the shoulder area.

After a frisky walk, Katr hoisted Roy up into the crate, which he bravely endured for the drive. Emmy settled in to the back seat – every now and then she’d sit up and sniff in Roy’s direction, then turn to me as if to say “Are you aware that there’s another canine in this vehicle?” Thanks, Emmy.

We’ve never driven the Fraser canyon part of the Trans Canada. Pretty spectacular.

It turns out that the traditional shar pei drop off spot in Cache Creek is the Dairy Queen – it’s like it was meant to be!

Roy and Emmy patrolled the area to make sure it was safe as Liz and her friend Elaine arrived for the wrinkly hand off.

Smushface!

“What’s that? A little run around the parking lot? I would love that! I’m a dog!”

Off for a trot!

Katr and I and Liz and Elaine all stood around yapping about dogs for awhile but since they had a 6 hour drive ahead of them and we had 5 hours back to our place, it wasn’t long before we had to say goodbye to Roy. It’s okay, though – we consoled ourselves with Blizzards.

Roy: Bye! Bye! Emmy! Bye! We’re dogs!

Emmy: Yes, goodbye, Roy.

Where’s my Blizzard, fattie?

We hear from Roy’s new owner in Prince George that he’s settling in well – Liz gave him a much-needed bath when they got to her place, before taking Roy to his new home - he’s had lots of good walks and he seems to be getting along well with his new shar pei sister Lily. Yay Roy!!

Creampuff Makes Little House on the Prairie Look Like a Pile of Puke

There’s food growing in our yard and I’m a little beside myself. How did it get there? How does it do that? And why are vegetables so dirty? Our organic food garden guru Seaton calls her photos “veggie porn”…and now I understand why. And now…so will you.

Danglers.

Actual cucumber from garden. NOT FROM THE STORE. WE GREW THIS.

You know what I didn’t know about cucumbers? They’re covered in little prickles. You basically have to give each one a handjob before you can eat it.

Bush pickle. That’s the name of this plant.

This…isn’t from our garden. I saw this out on a walk with the dog. But you can see the resemblance to things in our garden.

In more penis-innuendo-free news…little tomatoes!!

The shy mating of stealth peas. I didn’t see these guys for weeks and then suddenly there were pea pods everywhere. Like delicious ninjas!

Gypsy pepper. This plant has been working SO hard on this pepper. This is, in fact, the only pepper this plant has grown all summer. I almost don’t have the heart to pick the pepper. But if I don’t soon, then I know that fuckface Peter Piper will beat me to it.

And just when you think it couldn’t get any more domestic up in this bitch – BAM!

Banana Chocolate Chip Cake!

ALL OVER YOUR FACE!

Yeah, that’s right. I baked from scratch, during a heat wave. That’s hardcore. Speaking of hardcore, note the lesbian art in the background and the homegrown cucumber draped seductively over the nectarines. HOT.

Creampuff Would Like to – Hey! You Kids! Get Off My Lawn!

Becoming a homeowner has changed us all.

I find that I’m caring about new things, like the lawn, and I’m overly concerned about new things, like how last week, someone busted into our garbage area and ripped our garbage bags apart looking for food (I suspect man-sized raccoons).

I also really notice the comings and goings of our upstairs neighbours and am VERY CURIOUS about their every move. I’ve become like Mrs. Rachel Lynde, sitting on my porch, saying things like “Where could Matthew Cuthbert be going? In his suit? He’s not going fast enough for a doctor!” And then I have to try very hard to not yell “Where are you going now? I like your purse!” out the office window when the neighbours are on their way to work.

It’s not just the humans who’ve made an adjustment. Since we moved into our new place, Emmy has a new schedule:

Wake up. Whine to be let out.

OUT!

Front yard inspection, cut short by fattie.

Play with toy for 2.5 seconds.

Breakfast.

Cram self up fatties’ asses in their office until lunchtime walk.

FREEDOM!

Sleep in living room nook all afternoon, occasionally growling at UPS guy.

Pre-dinner tomcat chase.

Dinner.

Sleep in bedroom, away from loud fatties and their sad busted-by-the-movers TV (seen below)

We were a little worried that being on the ground floor would mean that our watchdog Emmy would go into overdrive and bark her head off every time some buttnut walked by talking on his cell phone. But she’s been fairly cool about the whole situation, generally only freaking out when someone actually comes in through our front gate and tries to deliver Swiss Chalet without her authorization.

Then last weekend, we had our french doors open to get some air and some kids were skateboarding on the boulevard next to our house. (Crazy homeowner aside: The brand new boulevard, which means we’re paying more property tax because of it.) Katr and I were in the office, working away and being annoyed by the riff raff, wondering if we were about to become the angry mean fat ladies on the corner who won’t let the kids have any fun.

And then, just as we were about to actually take some action, Emmy got up, went over to the door, poked her wrinkly face out and barked at the kids like it was her job. AND THEY LEFT.

That’s right, kids. There’s a new sheriff in town. A sheriff who smells of gym socks.

Good dog.

The Dogter Is In

I don’t know about you, but I get nervous around screaming people on the street.

I know from a number of incidents in Toronto that making eye contact basically invites a screaming crazy person to twist your nipples and take your wallet, so my usual modus operandi is complete and utter denial that the screaming is happening.

Our neighbourhood is rife with screaming people, but after three years, you start to get to know them – Angry Bob, Pissed-Off Denise, “I’ll Cut You” Mike – and you can tell when they’re just screaming for fun and when they’re really having a bad day and you steer clear when you need to. But every now and then, a new screamer appears on the scene and I immediately go into nipple protection mode.

So yesterday, I was standing at a stoplight with Emmy Lou when I started to hear this very angry woman about a block behind me. Man, she was angry. Shouting out obscenities, stomping down the sidewalk – really furious and unavoidably loud. She seemed to be moving pretty fast and I didn’t want to risk turning around and getting the nip twist, so I stood stock still and stared straight ahead, willing the light to change. But then the dog blew it.

Me: Be cool, dog. Be cool.

Emmy: What’s that noise?

Me: BE COOL, DOG.

Emmy: You HAVE to be hearing this. What IS that?

Despite my subtle attempts to keep her facing forward, the dog twisted around and stared right at the source of the screaming. Right behind me, I hear:

At least that FUCKING DOG is listening to me!! ‘Cause you sure as hell aren’t!!!! JESUS!

Naturally, I assumed she was talking to me. I held my breath. Then the light changed and the angry woman – with her silent, chastised male partner – brushed past me, crossed the street and continued their one-sided fight.

I watched as they stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and she continued to berate him. My nipples relaxed. I turned to Emmy Lou, who was now lovingly nuzzling some garbage on the curb.

Me: Good work. I think it’s nice she felt listened to.

Emmy: Yeah. Look, I have the wrapper here but the Filet ‘o Fish seems to be missing.

On my way home, I started to think about therapy dogs and how Emmy Lou could finally start giving back instead of laying around the house and gassing us. Sure, she would suck at letting children or the elderly pet her, but she might be a good listener. I mean, come on…

Who wouldn’t want to tell their deepest secrets to this face?

Thanks to my brother-in-law Drew for the picture, which I stole off his Facebook page.

Creampuff's So Vain (She Bets You Think This Post Is About Her)

I do not think of myself as a person who is vain. My approach to my appearance is basically "try not to look like an idiot". Bra UNDER my shirt? Pants on? Unibrow dealt with? I'm ready to meet the queen.

In my old age, however, I realize that I am becoming a little more conscious of my appearance. Three things in particular stand out in recent memory.

1. Hair: I finally broke down and purchased a straight iron because I couldn't stand how frizzy my rapidly greying hippie hair was getting in the moist environs of Vancouver.

2. Visage: I accidentally bought a moisturizer that has "a hint of sheer foundation" in it. I don't wear foundation - ever - but I also don't like to waste things, so I decided to give it a try. The first time I put it on, I felt like Al Jolson. But I have come to appreciate the bronzy glow it gives my skin, not to mention how it covers up the occasionally excessive ruddiness of my complexion.

3. The Dog.

Say what you will about my own physical appearance - there is no denying that our dog Emmy Lou is a very healthy and well-cared-for canine specimen.

Plump wrinkles, resplendent jowls, glossy coat, firm little hamhocks...on days when I feel like 10 kinds of ass, Emmy Lou's fawn coloured fur makes me look good. I am regularly complimented on the beauty or cuteness of my dog and I have come to expect these compliments, the way Pamela Anderson expects drunken fans to motorboat her boobs.

And then came...last week.

About twice a year, Emmy Lou goes through a massive shedding period, where every time I brush her it's like I'm shearing a bitchy sheep and every time we pet her, piles of fur end up on the floor at our feet.

Usually the shedding does little to diminish Emmy's natural beauty - it only diminishes the efficacy of our vacuum cleaner.

But out on our walk one day last week, after a period of hard brushing, I noticed these.

DIVOTS.

 

Me: OMG, Emmy Lou! Are those DIVOTS??

Emmy: What?

I know it's dumb. The dog is shedding. Some of her fur came out and now she has a couple of bald patches. Who cares, right?

ME.

Immediately after the divots appeared, strangers' usual exclamations of  "Oh, your dog is so cute!" changed to "Oh, your dog is...what happened to her coat? Was she in a fight?" Then they would give me a look. A look that said "I didn't know Michael Vick disguised himself as a fat white girl in Vancouver."

Being regarded with suspicion by Richie Rich Boomersomethings and hobos alike for a week now has taken its toll on creampuff moral. I have become extremely defensive about Emmy Lou's divots.  "SHE'S SHEDDING" I'll say to anyone who even vaguely looks in our direction, "It's a NATURAL PART OF LIFE."

In an effort to reduce the divots, I've brushed the shit out of this dog. I gave her a bath, which she hated. And while the hair is starting to grow back, it's still pretty clear that there are big chunks of fur missing and that I must be a terrible person.

It's clear to me now that I'm being punished for my dog vanity. And I suppose that after two years of using my dog to make myself look good, I'm due for a little humbling. I'm not quite ready to give up yet though - in fact, this very weekend I think I figured out how to distract people from her blemishes until the fur grows back in. How?? Well...I'm training her to become THE FLASH. Behold!