Sexy Clown Fish, Stubborn Machines, and Doggy Boils

I don't normally buy books at the dollar store but when I saw "So Many Ways to Reproduce" I couldn't leave it behind.  After all, there is nothing more fascinating and entertaining than the intimate relations of our animal friends. Just now I read an interesting tidbit about the clown fish. They are hermaphrodites at birth, but here's the weird thing: if the mommy dies, the daddy will turn into a female, and one of the babies will turn into a male to become the new daddy. Seriously.  I'm imagining an alternate version of Finding Nemo.

I went to the dollar store because I had to renew the licence sticker on my car so I went to that kiosk in the mall.  You can theoretically renew your health card, licence, whatever at this stupid little machine without the ordeal of actually having to talk to another person. Unfortunately it didn't work, as it rarely does.  Apparently it didn't have stickers for the date I wanted, which is right now, so I honestly don't get it.  I went to the dollar store and to buy a treat for my reasonably-well-behaved three-year old (and also so the trip didn't feel like such a waste). Tomorrow I'll talk to a real person and get a new sticker and renew my daughter's health card (fun).  I would have gone today but the office is closed on Thursday.  Yes, they are open Monday through Wednesday and Fridays.  The universe is clearly against me getting any errands done.

I did manage to get to the vet so they could examine a lump Worf had on his shoulder.  Either it's something harmless that dogs get all the time, or its a hideous cancerous growth.  I paid $260 to find out which one it is. In  the Dominican Republic dogs live in the streets like overgrown rats and here we pay hundreds to investigate their boils.  (Stay tuned for more about my recent Punta Cana vacation when I feel like writing about it).

The most stressful part of my day.

I live a two-minute walk from my son's school. It lets out at 3:15ish.

At 2:30, I get my daughter dressed. Regardless of whether I dressed her in the morning, by 2:30 she is without pants. This involves chasing her around the house waving a pair of pants and a pair socks and yelling "Come here Jadzia!"  She does not come when called.  The dog does though and he will always attempt to eat the socks.

Jadzia poos around the same time and I'm trying to toilet train her so that means rinsing out a pair of undies.   She will not poo on the potty. Ever.  A lot of the time she defecates immediately after I've dressed her and I have to dress her again.

Today she wants to wear her new one-piece snowsuit.  Once I start dressing Jadzia, our 50-pound puppy gets wind that we are going and runs up, wags his entire body, knocks my daughter over at least twice, and attempts to eat our hats/mitts/boots.  I leash him up in a harness that he hates but theoretically discourages him from pulling.

The alarm on my watch is set to 3 pm, just in case I forget the time.  It goes off just as we were heading out the door.

After five steps, Jadzia stops to play with the rocks in my neighbour's driveway. This patch of gravel is unremarkable to me, but she will not leave the area voluntarily.  At this point I have to carry her.  Have you ever tried to carry a three-year-old that doesn't want to be carried?  How about one wearing a one-piece snowsuit?  How about one-handed while holding the leash of a 50-pound puppy?

I somehow manage to carry Jadzia to the corner.  I put her down as soon as we cross the road.  Immediately she runs to examine something so close to the street that my heart does a somersault.  This time it was a branch.

The rest of the way I "hold Jadzia's hand", which in this case is code for holding her by her forearm to keep her from running into traffic.  She falls to her knees like a rag doll forcing me to drag her.  Of course I can't really drag her, so I have to pick her up again.

Meanwhile, Worf, the 50-pound puppy, jumps on every person that passes by. Children, parents, whoever. I chant "Sorry. Worf! Leave it! Hey! Sit! He won't bite. He's friendly. Sorry. Sorry" all the way to school.

I put Jadzia down once we reach the kindergarten door.  She does not stay near me, but we're not near the road so whatever.  She watches William get ready through the window, but when he comes out she runs into the fenced off area for kindergarten recess, or hides behind the fir trees next to the door.

By the time I gather her up, William is way ahead of me.  He either doesn't pay attention to where I am or doesn't care.  He wants to walk with his friend whose mother is much more efficient at wrangling children. In fact, all the mothers are better at wrangling their children, and their kids stay near them and listen to them.  Even their dogs behave.

I tell William to wait and Jadzia to hurry up.  I'm yelling into the wind and no one hears me.  I concentrate on Jadzia because I know William will not run into the road or do anything crazy. Jadzia stops to lick a metal signpost (seriously).  Luckily, it is not cold enough for her tongue to stick. I worry that it will be soon.

I'm so visibly frustrated at this point that a random woman stops to ask me if I'm okay.  I mumble that I am. Worf jumps on her daughter. I feel like the worst mother in the schoolyard.

When we finally get home the children dawdle at the end of the driveway.  They can tell I'm stressed and this makes them less obedient.  I have to count to five to get them to come in the door.  Once inside, they do not  give me space.

Worf Filipowicz

 We weren't really planning on getting a dog, although we always knew we would some day.  My daughter's love of animals prompted me to take her to the animal shelter last week just for something to do.   During our visit, we mostly just looked at cats, because the sound of ten large dogs barking in a confined hallway was too much for Jadzia's tender nerves and eardrums.  However, I did notice that they had a puppy.  Not a washed up old mutt, but a puppy.

The sign said he was a Pointer x Border Collie, but we were later told he was probably a Lab x Border Collie, or maybe something else.  They found him on the street and your guess is as good as theirs.  In fact, they found him on our street. 

We went to the shelter today just to look at him.  We played with him in the room for playing with dogs.  We took him for a walk.  He likes to play fetch.  He likes the kids. The kids like him.  He's cute. He's calm for a puppy.

Adam would want to adopt any dog he saw, ditto for the kids, so it was all up to me to be the grown-up and make the big decisions.  I asked the shelter worker if they would hold him for twenty-four hours so I could think about it.  "No."  So we took him right then and there.  It was too late anyway.  He already felt like part of the family.