'Reflections on My Adorable, Special Companions'...

“Come here, little man”, I remarked, as he sat in his cage, the door always open for his 'viewing' enjoyment. This refuge, from the outside world, helped him see life more clearly as he sat inside patiently wondering, what's next? ...   He was learning very quickly. ... It was a quick study in human and animal behaviour. We looked at each other. His piercing green eyes stared at me, ever so sweetly. He was our precious little boy, the newest member of our family unit. He seemed human, oh so human. 

His cage was the biggest on the retail market, when we bought it, decades ago. It had to be for this yellow lovable retriever. The next size up would have probably suited a miniature pony but we had a retriever, not a pony. ...  (His love affair with his cage is understandable. It is the place he calls home, a quiet place for timeouts (and there are so many, understandably) from the chewing carousal of life...

Reclining on his folded comforter and another 'vintage' blanket from a former puppy, the 'Wiggler', our Mr. Wiggles, curls up and cuddles with this comfy 'home' away from home. It is his special place, late at night. ... His new bed is wonderful. But for now, his cage is his 'blankie'. His beautiful face is a composite riddle, this young male of ours, a mix of warmth, exuding love and unending questions. ... He is ever so inquisitive, a unique spice blend of happy, calm and excitement. ... When Mall Cop visits his diminuitive terrier cousin it is a relationship of opposites. In one corner, we have Mr. Wiggles, the lovable chewing machine, whose internal apparatus is at the ready to gnaw the edible and non-edible alike and wiggling to the absurd. ... In the other corner, you have lovable Mall Cop whose initial quiet, 'leave me alone, kid' demeanour begs simply to be forgotten and left to do what he does best: patrol the yard and defend it - his way. (Inside, it is sleep time for many, 'perchance, to dream'!)


When talking to Miss S, our 75 pound female Labrador Retriever, it is to stroke her sweet face, reminding her yet again how smart she is, how wonderful she is watching over her younger brother, now a 72 pound burgeoning behemoth, a menace to all things green, buried and tree related. He is a descendant of 'Himself.' our 125 pound yellow retriever, who passed away in our car in the Spring of 1998 and 'Puppy boy', our 88 pound retriever, who died last Christmas, in his 14^th year. It's truly a family affair. ..She listens ever so sweetly.


Funny how words can evolve to fit a certain person or beloved pet. The word, 'Himself' was the chosen affectionate noun used by Mall Cop's dad, once upon a time, when our son lived with us. His fascination with all our retrievers kept us all laughing with the stories he would act out with each one and the nicknames he would assign to explain their personalities. He spoke their language. 

Each pet was very special, unlike any that had come before him or her. It made sense to us, kept us laughing, even after their deaths. New words were created, each befitting the special pet to whom it was assigned, when each arrived on the scene. With the females, I used priggy instead of  'pretty' to help them hear the word more easily, using g's instead of the t's when I spoke to them. It made sense only to me and them. Did they understand? No one knew. We felt they did. Talking to them opened up my world as well as theirs in a special way. Was it reasonable? Yes, it was. It made sense to us, a family who loved their non human family so much.  ...(Could this be a lesson in helping children develop language?)


I look at our precious kitty, 'Tiggy' and think how far she has come since being left to die that freezing cold morning-10 years ago. She lies in wait for me, on the top bunk, far from the madding crowd, surveying the city scape from the safety of her bunker, high atop her 'bunk'. She is easily stressed. So she is left alone and spoken to, from afar. Having no whiskers makes it difficult for her to discern her environment and the people in it. In the beginning, when she ran outside of the fenced yard, I worried about her safety. There are birds and animals, nocturnal and not, roaming about, in search of prey. She'd be perfect food for them. We would search for her. I was disappointed by her actions. 'What did I do to deserve this, I would ask?” I let you roam, outside with the dogs, in the fenced enclosure, in warmer weather and this is how you say thank you.” She would wait to tell me her side of the story. Inside we would go and all was forgiven. Hugging wasn't her thing.  Miss S, Puppy Boy and now, Mr. Wiggles, are always there to supervise-just in case! And admonish her, if need be. She would listen and remain close by, just in case, most of the time!..


When Mall cop stays over with his sister, the 'bombshell' mini-schnauzer, Ella, there is a rush to see who gets to sleep on the sofa, Once there, I am left to beg, “Where do I sleep, people, after all, if I go to bed upstairs, two of you are in your respective crates. And there goes your freedom”. Alas, that settles that. I get the sofa and all is good. “Sweet dreams, my dear little ones.” Morning will be here soon and I need to sleep. Good Night!

Education's Triple Threat

Hollywood calls them the triple threat, the collective gold standard of talent: singing, dancing and acting. Jennifer Lopez comes to mind for me in the 21^st century. In the last one, it was Fred Astaire, Judy Garland, Debbie Reynolds, to name a few of the incredibly talented stars possessing this supreme magical talent. Television, stage and the big screen helped deliver these incredible 'actors' to us.

It came to mind, recently, that education has its own built in triple threat: Academics, Athletics and the Arts, the triple 'A' system of education. ... Alter this trio of gold in any way and the learning curve begins to change, sometimes, dramatically, in a downward spiral for the child not immersed in the culture of 'Triple A'.

In a system designed to educate our children, why is it O.K. that the arts (music, drama, visual arts) and athletics (team and individual sports, gymnastics- even recess!) are, simply, dismissed or worse, deleted, from a rigorous learning agenda in favour of a strictly academic focus. We are shortchanging our children -big time- when just one of education's triple threat partners is missing. Our long term wellbeing, health and success in life and workplace are threatened when each partner in the trio is not treated with respect, especially, for the youngest and most vulnerable among us.

It was important that our sons learn how to skate and swim, early in life. (We live in Canada where winter is a feature of our daily lives, several months of the year. Public skating lessons were begun) Then, there is the summer, where water sports form the basis of everyday living. (Group swimming lessons were ongoing, Spring and Fall) ... Learning these life giving skills also facilitated their learning experience. ... Even walking is athletics, an endeavour worth considering and doing, in the absence of  structured athletic programs. ... A strong focus on movement helps to build strength, in mind and body. It also allows for a brief departure from the rigours of academic learning to permit a different kind of brain workout, involving the whole body. (And as we have learned, it keeps us healthy!)

When our boys were in elementary school -our oldest in grade 5- an Arts focus program was introduced into the northern region of our school board, one of the largest in the province of Ontario. Those interested, applied. (The program's focus: motivation, participation and positive attitude.) This divergent approach to academics was heralded as a new and exciting path to learning. (Transportation to the Arts program was the responsibility of the parents.) .

We could never have afforded this concentrated 'arts' program on our own. This composite programming of music, the dramatic and visual arts, in conjunction with physical education and academics now formed the foundation of our sons' educational 'gold' package. Sadly, this program lasted 6 years before its retirement.  ...  I chose music, an elective, in high school, joined the school choir and participated in musical productions each year. ... My husband's musical experience included the completion of grade ten piano and for a few hours, one evening long, long, ago, he was the drummer for the English rock band, the Kinks, when they visited Canada in the early 60's.

The Arts, with its strong music/dramatic arts component, should be available for all children, in all jurisdictions, not just for the select few or for those where transportation is not a problem. The Arts and Athletics combined with academics bring to the individual untold health, wellbeing and success in life and work. 

When we challenge the brain through music and athletics, we strengthen our body and mind in incalculable ways, that last a lifetime. ...Let us think of the triple threat in education as a right for all children, especially, for those deemed at-risk. Bathing the very young child in a world of music appreciation, painting, dance is to begin the task of triple A orientation, slowly and methodically. It shows the world to be a friendly, familiar face where learning is an everyday occurrence and new experiences are not to be feared.

Mall Cop's Review

Diminutive 'Mall Cop' lay there simply wanting to chew the elk antler, the special one, the one they all wanted but he had found first, on the floor, within the chewing arena. ... This twenty pound dynamo looked at me wondering, if maybe, I wanted to chew, also. (He was polite that way. They all were, really.) I sat on the floor, nearby, offering protection, just in case, the 'others' came calling, hoping to relieve him of the top pick of the moment. He chewed with great delight, this familiar yummy bone, its aroma and texture, so pleasing to all of the visiting 'dognitaries'. (When Mall Cop is There, 9/2013)

As usual, our 8 month old, adult 'impersonator', 'Mr.Wiggles' was busy, nearby, pouncing, every which way, to the 'absurd'. (What song was he dancing to, this time, I wondered? I had shut off the stereo.) “Miss S', our 74 pound, 5 year old retriever, my sweet girl, seemed lost in thought, thinking that all of this was so preposterous. "Why aren't they all outside, banging into each other, so I can be alone?"  Oh how quickly we forget, my dear sweet Lab. ...Mall Cop's mini schnauzer sister was, nearby, chewing the other antler, the biggest one. She was always going after 'bigger fish'. It was her nature to test the limits of her tiny mandate, this 8 month old baby, 17 pound little cutie, with her four furry booties, all around. ....


Looking back on my sweet Lab's early years (1-3), I am reminded how truly lucky she is that she was not traded in for an older model of something. Her antics, then, were beyond our human abilities to understand. ... Her eyes were always fixated upon my reaction to her daily obsession: the constant digging and finding of rocks, large and small, to be held, in trust, between the upper and lower molars of her mouth. Funny how only a retriever could detect the undetectable. ... Scanning her play area, beforehand, did little to unearth these dog 'treasures' of distinction. “Oh. Please,” I thought back then,” “Give me the rock and we'll call it even.” The game we played seemed to involve outrunning one another. (The tree was always there, never moving for a moment!) “Please, give mommy the rock”, I would beg. She understood my concern but she was having too much fun simply running amok while making me crazy, I knew. ..(Today, she is quiet, patient, kind and oh so wise!)


The day she found the big one was a day in infamy. She looked up at me, staring into the void-which was my mind! At that point, it was strictly primal. Which one of us would win this game of grab and run? How could I catch her before she hit the tree with the paper weight of rocks in her mouth? Would she destroy her internal chewing apparatus when she tripped or hit the tree? Oh My! Where had she found this current monstrous piece of dental horror? What had I missed? Where had it been hidden? I had been inside the house, looking at her through the glass doors when she caught my eye. She stood there motionless, glaring at me with that “I gotcha, now” look of satisfaction.


This current specimen was the 'rock of horrors', larger than ever imagined and one that could barely be contained inside her mouth. I cautiously walked outside, admiring her latest find. I stood there speechless, motionless, while contemplating my next move. "Oh my!" ...  She began to run at the speed of light or sound. I'm not sure which. (The fenced yard helped contain her whirlwind antics.) All I could do now was simply be patient and ignore her, hoping my disinterest in her momentary lapse of judgement would give way to her simply dropping this quaint piece of Mt. Vesuvius. ... I looked at her. She glowered at me. Her dental future and our bank balance were at stake. .. I offered her a trade. She thought for a moment, then relented. As I walked towards her, I grabbed this newest piece of rock face that had just fallen out of her sweet little mouth. I thanked her for her 'good girl' decision. We had both won this stalemate. She got the cookies. I got the paper weight. No teeth lost. No collision with the tree!. ... I breathed a sigh of relief. ..


Though our retriever's annoyance with the throng in her midst was understandable, her personal truth, a step back in time, was worse than those of her assembled contemporaries. Her indignation always seemed at odds with her history. Three year old Mall Cop did not do the things she had done-ever. His sister was a saint, in comparison. And our Mr. Wiggles, her baby brother, was just a happy little boy, trying to be friendly and happy to all he met. He was an infant, after all. Well, my dear girl, do you remember that curtain panel and what happened, one dark and scary night? I do! ... Let's play.