"16 Legs in the Kitchen!"

The sound was unmistakable; their reactions, so predictable. I watched the group, '16 legs in the kitchen', galloping to the absurd, not certain where they were going or why. They were following their leader, Mall Cop. It was a most comical interlude, as my 'daughter' arrived to pick up her 'children'. I had been babysitting the foursome that day. Soon it would be time for two of them to leave.

I watched as these innocent, adorable faces lighted from their quiet sleeping area, in the adjacent room, near the kitchen, to follow that familiar sound of the chef's knife hitting a hard surface, the counter top. That glorious sound always preceded the dramatic entrance of the fruit platter, the crowning glory of all things delicious. A two-step drop into their room helped to slow them down, occasionally. But that familiar chopping sound from the kitchen, alerting them to the wondrous aroma and tastes that would soon follow, could not be ignored. 

 

They could barely contain their excitement as 'Ella, the 3 year-old mini-schnauzer, the 'Wiggler', our 3 year-old retriever and 'Sally', his older sister, another retriever follow sir Mall Cop, the terrier, their diminutive leader, - a professor in disguise - into this very special place called the kitchen. I just had to laugh. In the corner of my eye, a 'herd' of quiet, cute little furry people approached, running with conviction. "I'm late. I'm late for a very important date. Hello, good bye. I'm late. I'm late. I'm late." I could not let that famous quote go by. 

 

As I hurried to prepare their special produce platter, they continued to run to and fro, in tandem, in a comical exhibition, while watching me work, tirelessly, on their behalf. They reminded me of a very large centipede running amok. Oh My, how funny it all seemed to be. 

 

Would I give in and offer them a morsel for the long 'walk home?” No, not now, not here. I did not want to encourage them, to eat here, in this cooking place, where great meals or simple foods are created. How could I? The compost pail is nearby, too, too close for comfort, for these animals of the 'raw' and minimally processed food diet. Even with its lid down securely, the pail is an enticement, a monument to food. It is monitored closely. A turkey leg, firmly ensconced inside, was removed gingerly, by the youngest member, one holiday evening. Ella lay there with this unusual looking toy until I noticed its unusual shape. Was that a rawhide stick I was not familiar of?" The youngest and smallest of the group and probably smartest knew what she was doing.

There is a semblance of order and it matters, in the house of many puppies. What if I had another one to add to this motley crew group of energetic four-legged delights? A much larger centipede, perhaps? What if Harry, the Great Dane, were to join us? Too soon to tell. The gigantic baby Dane, at 160 pounds, is no longer a baby, having recently graduated into the hallowed hall of adult dog, the well-behaved, calm version of the puppy. He is a beautiful boy, a member of the tallest breed in the world, I know. He has been raised well. Plays well with others and loves a good marathon. Would he need me someday? Would he love his fruit platter, too? Maybe. There would probably be much discussion as his slices would have to be much larger.

A dog's sense of smell is incredible. Their addiction to fruit, many vegetables and compost, too, can be a threat to health. Not all fruit is under consideration. Grapes, raisins, currants, onions, garlic can kill a dog and the seeds, stones, stems of other fruits, as well. In the 'waiting' room, Mall Cop stands, staring at me, with those winsome eyes and loving glare, 'pawing' me in the process with that “Is it time for those delicious looking things” 'Yes, it is, my precious little man.” 

 

I begin to offer the most anticipated cucumbers, then watermelon, both of super food and water fame - follow next. I hold a slice for each dog as he chews his way towards the pith. No one bites me during this feeding frenzy. I will stop and they know it. 

 

They know I am their friend in the kitchen. The slices are left attached to the rind to encourage proper chewing and chomping and to slow them down a bit. Dogs eat too fast for my liking. They all revel in another delicious moment as they arrive at the pith of the watermelon, so misunderstood and ignored, but not now. They savour its tremendous benefits, slowly, when it is offered, not crunching the rind. It is of little benefit and is problematic, too.

We follow the watermelon rules as this tasty detour is taken outside, momentarily, making it easier for me. They follow me, happily and quickly, as the fruit begins to ooze its fragrant juice onto my hands and the surrounding area. But I do not fret. We are outdoors now, on the grassy area, strewn with straw, where messes happen and belong, each dog waiting for his turn at the fountain of fruit. 

 

We go indoors where the blueberries, strawberries, of super food fame, are offered next, held in a certain way, so their skins are punctured and they become one with the body. If given in a bowl on top of their food, blueberries are devoured too quickly, without thought. Hours later, these tiny tender morsels of super health delight are seen outside on the ground, in the waste department, having been mistaken for a laxative. I figured it out. The skins of these berries were not punctured. This expensive 'additive' needs a solution. The body does not inherit their health benefits. Never again. Wasteful and expensive. They are hand-held offerings now to these four precious creatures of mine. As part of a raw diet, certain fruits, along with celery and carrots, become a part of their dental health plan, too. 

Mall Cop stands motionless and fixated, on me, yet again. When it is sleepover time, more is yet to come. He knows. Like the Wiggler, Mall Cop expects the final round, those delicious things called apples. Mentioning the name or spelling the name of these tree fruits only serves to excite them all once again. I must be careful what I say.

 

They all know, these intelligent creatures called dogs. The breed is irrelevant. The more time spent with them, the more they can outwit you, eventually. They know the words. Two on the sofa, with two directly in front of me, on the floor, begin the buffet. They see the slices. They wait their turn, ever so quietly. Red apples or green, it makes no difference to them. The day is routine with predictable results for all. ... Sixteen legs in the kitchen. It seemed so funny at the time. I laugh whenever those words are uttered. So comical and so real. Life is all around me.

The American Election

Today's revelatory American presidential election has managed to ensnare us all. Its dominance on the political and social scene in America and perhaps here, as well, has made Momsey wonder whether government is about the people or something called 'the party'.

In Canada, we have three or more political parties; in America, only two. Party affiliation seems to make governing a country, a contest where winner takes all. All political parties should be espousing the same truth: a basic living standard, with healthcare and education, expected human rights for all! Governing should be about principles, morality, integrity and fiscal responsibility. The voice of a select few, in this elite club called government, should not matter more than the collective voice of the country: its citizens.

I was a teen when JFK was president. I worried about the conflict between our neighbour to the south and one of its closest neighbours. Friday, the world could end, I'd heard. With a deathly vigil, my innocence and naivety waited for World War III. The end was near. Where would I hide, I wondered? I read the newspaper. Friday arrived. Nothing happened. A crisis of unimaginable proportions had been averted. I was ever so grateful. I continued on my merry way. I was a teen, after all. Girls were supposed to be flighty, thinking only about makeup, boys and other frivolous things. What did I know, anyway? Not much, I guess. But I was scared and trusted all great leaders to do the right thing for their citizens and the rest of the world, too.

America was a mighty nation, an ally to Canada. The news had been ominous in the 60's. I wrote about it in my diary. Everything seemed dire, but JFK, the trusted great leader from the great United States of America would always do the right thing. And he did. But less than two years later, he was dead, killed by an assassin's bullets. News of his death shocked the world, a shattering blow to our collective security and morality. I'd been a student in Grade 12 Latin class when our teacher answered the knock on her classroom door. She turned to speak to us, quivering, as the tears welled up. We were numb. We cried. How could it have happened? And why did it happen? Some have said JFK was the last great president. (And Ronald Reagan, too!)

Today's primaries, unfolding in the United States of America, began with 17 hopefuls running for the Republican 'party', in the race to the White House. Months later, two remained, running the gauntlet for the party's nomination. For the Democratic party's nomination, there were only two candidates, from the outset. Lineups for voting, in the numerous state primaries for the Republican Party brought out large numbers of Americans to vote. They wanted to be heard! They wanted to be 'counted'. The interest was electrifying. Some lineups were blocks or a mile long. In many districts, ballots were in short supply, needing to be re-printed as supplies dwindled. The excitement and anger of the American people were understood. (We get angry here, too.) There was no mistaking the Pandora's box unleashed by one of the candidates running for president. Donald Trump was here to stay. He is now his party's official nominee for president, with Hillary Clinton, the official opposition.

Being interviewed on CNN, many months ago, the actor made mention he was present during the heydays of the 60's, while being featured in a political commercial about the role of government. How had the politics of government changed so much that it was, now, more about party affiliation and less about governing a country? Many look to government for help, guidance and basic rights. But has the institution become a hallowed hall for the lucky few voted into power? Is it now a monstrous make-work project for those fortunate enough to be voted in, unconditionally? The 'politics' of power does not feed our children, provide us with jobs, healthcare and education. Government should be about the people, not just some people. (Or is Momsey confused with the script from a Hollywood movie?)

The role of government is to make society a more equitable place for all to live, work and play. Being marginalized in a democratic society is not equitable at all. How we have strayed. Governments assign a tax rate then arbitrarily raise the rate to pay for public services and the necessary infrastructure projects. Then we shop with the 'leftovers' of the after tax 'insult'. Full-time employment is a dream for many of us. Yet during any election - Canadian or American - it would seem that party affiliation is the name of the election game. It is party this and party that. Lost in all this 'partying' are the voters who have, graciously and generously, put citizens they do not know, now labelled politicians, into this prestige power club. Government's role is to assist its citizens, to 'help' elevate their circumstances for their short term and long-term well-being. An election seems to be a contest that few win, with no conditions attached to the winners. We are the 'employer' yet the 'employees' run the 'show'. Being a politician should not be a 'lucrative' career, with expense accounts, trips and zero accountability. There should be no wheel of fortune!

It was a controversial box-office success when Frank Capra's, “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” was released in 1939! In the starring role, as Mr. Emerson Smith, legendary Hollywood actor, James Stewart, portrayed the hapless, naive, idealistic country 'boy', selected as a junior senator, to go to Washington. The movie was ahead of its time, receiving 11 academy award nominations and winning for Best Original Story. In 1989, it was added to the United States National Film Registry, for its cultural and historical significance. As the title might suggest, Mr. Emerson Smith was the 'new kid' in Washington, new to the workings of government. His rousing, exhausting, emotionally and physically draining '24 hour' filibuster scene, in the 'senate', demonstrated to his audience that he would not be silenced. Eerily, in that moment, I thought of Donald Trump, in today's modern 'parallel' version - 80 years after the iconic movie's release.

Emerson Smith was a character in a political movie. Donald Trump is a real character, in real life politics, shouting his messages, for all to hear. Like Emerson Smith in the movie, Donald Trump is new on the political scene but will not be silenced. His public persona has rattled the country and the world. As an outsider, unpredictable, unflinching and uncompromising, with an intense 'unscripted' delivery style, Mr. Trump is the billionaire businessman who hopes to make America safe and great again. 'Politics', he says, has no place in government. Whether he wins or loses, government will never be the same. The great people of the United States of America will have spoken!