Whatever He Says

This past weekend we hung out, Molson and me, deserted by all but the cat and chinchilla.  I love that dog so much. He is good "soul medicine!" So much about him reminds me of the kind of relationship God must want to have with us, if we weren't so desperately "human." It can be a little disconcerting at times, the way Molson's eyes are always on his beloved one--that's me when his other loved ones are away. I love watching those little bumps in his forehead, just above his eyes, and how, no matter how sleepy he is, the bumps turn in my direction. It makes me laugh out loud with joy, watching him. It makes me think of Psalm 123, which says: Psalm 123:1-4 The Message (MSG) A Pilgrim Song 1-4          We  look up to you for help. Like servants, alert to their master’s commands,      like a maiden attending her lady, We’re watching and waiting, holding our breath,      awaiting your word of mer...

By Belinda During my 11 days of pet sitting the Fearsome Five for Brenda, it became apparent that Molson's bed time is way earlier than mine. He showed me this by schmoozing his way onto the couch shortly after 9.00 pm whether I was on it or not. I think he preferred it if I wasn't, because then I would find him burrowing his nose deep into a pillow while wriggling himself into a comfortable position. I didn't think--no I knew--that Paul would not be impressed by an 80 pound bundle of golden fur on the couch--so that was my cue to settle him downstairs with Hazel the cat, Blossom the chinchilla and Sunny and Disco the cockatiels. When Brenda got home she said, "Did you notice that Molson puts himself to bed at 9 o'clock?" Um yes, he did give me a clue. :) Well, the old geezer's impression of a senior citizen has been blown this evening by making beautiful music in his very own garage with a female golden named Lyric! :) Molson followers w...

I was loading the dishwasher when Brenda wandered into the kitchen with a perplexed expression on her face and furrowed brow. She had just lost something precious, her last piece of salmon. In fact she had posted her status to the world on Facebook  as this: "Ok it's official ... I have lost my mind and my salmon! Made my lunch for tomorrow and could have sworn I put the leftovers in the fridge but the illusive salmon is still Missing in Action! If I ever find it I'll let I you know where I put it!" And now she was coming to commiserate with me. I obliged. After all, I am used to the fact that I can put something down and it vanishes from view in that very split second! I am used to hunting the kitchen and my office in dismay for items that just left my hand and sponaneously vanished into thin air. But it was funny to see my daughter standing in my kitchen in her pajamas telling me that she had actually looked inside her washing machine, dryer, oven and microwave ...

By Belinda The morning was still dark at 6.45 am and I was out of the bathroom and into the kitchen already, stirring a robust pot of oatmeal . I anticipated the taste on my tongue of first coffee as I stirred, happy to be up in good time for an unrushed morning before work. But just as work expands to fill the time available, "life" inevitably seems to fill up a void when there is one. And so it was this morning. I was stirring the oatmeal, peaceful in the solitude of early morning when Brenda entered from stage left. Brenda usually leaves for work just before 7.00 am--even though she doesn't need to be at work until 8.00 and work is not an hour away. She is her father's daughter in this regard. But she was discombobulated. Worry was etched on her face and her dark blond hair and black coat were all awry. "Molson ran off," she said, "And I've just driven around the block looking for him." "Molson ran off?" I echoed inanely,...

By Belinda I woke up on Friday morning to the drum of rain on the skylight. As I brushed my teeth and went through hurried preparations for my work day--hurried because the dark morning outside meant that I had wakened later than intended--I listened to the weather forecast. Two days of rain were forecast. Not good news. All day long it rained steadily. Our events committee at work had planned a Fall Family BBQ for Saturday and at the last count there were 70 people coming. We had no contingency plan. Rain or shine we were having a party--but it would be so much better if it shined. I wrote on Friday that I was praying that the weather forecast was wrong. On Saturday as soon as morning came I rolled out of bed, padded across the carpet to the window and peaked outside. No rain! I whispered a prayer of gratitude. As I prepared for the day I listened to the weather on CBC Radio for the second day. The forecast had improved to cloudy with sunny periods. Again I thanked the Lord fo...

By Belinda I am dog sitting Molson this weekend, which means I am temporarily Mo-Mo's Mama, rather than his doting Grandmama. He seems to know when the transfer from Brenda to me is made and makes the switch effortlessly. I can't say it's from one Alpha dog to another. We are both too smitten for that and I defy anyone not to be by this golden teddy bear of a dog. I read somewhere--I think it may have been in Prevention Magazine, that gazing into the eyes of your dog, releases Oxytocin in the brain. I just had to look up what Oxytocin actually is; it is the  love hormone  !! This explains a lot! What's not to love? I mean, it's hard not to love a creature who is adoring of you. His eyes never leave me unless he is lying next to me and making physical contact. That means he knows where I am and it's safe to go to sleep. Otherwise he is on alert, head raised at my slightest movement, ready to go where I go. Rob calls it the "bond of Bond Head." H...

By Belinda Rob and I were talking about the puppies Molson fathered a while ago, (before his more recent unsuccessful romantic liaison!)Three of them were sponsored by McDonalds to be trained by  COPE  (Canine Opportunities for People Empowerment) as service dogs. Hoping to find a photo of the puppies to show Rob, I checked their website and found a video clip of a news cast that include McFlurry--one of the puppies. Aurora, the puppies' mom is featured too, with a newer litter of puppies, but later on there is Flurry, with her young trainer at school. Such a cool surprise. :)

By Belinda I have not written lately about Molson, my beloved furry friend, so here is what's going on in his life. He is not living up to his job description as a stud dog, I am afraid to say. He recently had a "date." He booked into his home kennel and the kennel owner arranged a romantic rendezvous for several days, with special quarters so that he and the "lady" in question could get acquainted with no distractions. We missed him terribly; our house was like an empty shell without him. After a few days he came home to his ecstatic family, having had a hair cut and pedicure, but no romance, and it wasn't the lady's fault; he just wasn't that into it. He is not a macho dog at all, although he is making progress and will now bark back when another dog barks aggressively at him. Tori came upstairs looking for Brenda, who was debriefing her day over a cup of tea this evening. "Molson was stuck in the bathroom!" she said to Bren...

By Belinda Chatting with my brother Rob, and my mum in England, is part of every Saturday morning. As well as catching up on our human family's news, we always talk about our dogs: Bruce, his Staffordshire bull terrier and Molson our golden retriever. Bruce is still suffering with shattered nerves from Bonfire week in England. He hides under Mum's settee when he is downstairs in her flat, in the far corner, where he manages to find a tiny space to wedge into. Rob has to work hard to pull him out. When he is upstairs in Rob's flat, his chosen hiding place is in the storage cupboard. He still only ventures out when he's sure it's safe, in the wee hours of the morning. Rob said he will probably just be getting over it when the fireworks start again around Christmas. Both of us believe that our dogs are gifts sent by God. Rob doesn't talk much about God except when it comes to Bruce coming into his life. Years ago Rob had a Staffordshire bull terrier na...

On Saturday, my brother Rob on the phone from England, asked me if we'd heard about, "Computer Face." I said "No," and "What is that?" He explained that it's in the news over in England at the moment, the fact that people who stare at a computer for most of the day (that would include me) develop something called, "Computer Face." Of course I wanted to know what that meant--my imagination was running rampant--and he said it's frown lines of concentration, and jowls. "Jowls??" I've got little ones forming. Maybe not so little, either! And all this time I thought it was to do with aging and now I find out it's Computer Face. The antidote, apparently, is to have a mirror on the side of the computer, there to remind you to look up (and fight gravity) and not frown. A mirror on the side of my computer? I would never be able to concentrate on work again, not to mention scaring myself at odd moments. :) I know of a ...

By Belinda I knew on Friday night at the Studio Tour, that I would go back some time this weekend, and so, on Sunday afternoon after church, I stopped at the bank for some cash, and went back to the Bond Head Community Hall, where I was recognized at every table as the lady who had been there on Friday night with Molson. Eyes softened and brightened at the memory of his friendly visit and gentle inquiries were made as to how he was. But Christmas shopping was on my mind on this occasion, and I spent a happy and unhurried hour, browsing the tables and chatting with the gifted artisans. This is George A. Burt of Bond Head. His work is on display in the National Gallery in Ottawa, right next to Group of Seven paintings. Each piece is uniquely crafted into a work of art and George burns his name and address on the bottom on each one with a wood burning tool, letter by letter. His work was in demand all over the world a few years ago when it became known ...

By Belinda Beneath the  fur beats a heart of solid gold. It is a contented heart, that asks only for a human friend to walk beside.I thank God often for the gift that he is to our household. A weekend spent alone, just we two, and suddenly I am conscious of how often I move from room to room as  he moves with me around the house. I make a dent in the long list of chores I planned to accomplish. One oven and two fridges are clean. It is time to go and visit a friend. Molson hops into the backseat of the car. A pretty gift bag with green leaves, lilac flowers and with matching tissue sits in the front. We have a 75th birthday to acknowledge and celebrate. We find our way through a maze of hallways to her cosy room. Dolls line the shelves and everything is tidy and in place. Her back is towards the door and she is watching a movie. At our entrance her eyes sparkle with delight and surprise. "It's you!" she says. We have time for a ...

On Saturday morning I dial her number. The miles between us melt away as she picks up the phone in Alvechurch. "Hello? How I love her dear voice; though it is quavery with age and slightly slowed. 7 years ago, the process of getting thoughts from the brain and turning them into speech, which we take for granted with every word we speak, became like a road after a storm, blocked by fallen trees, with sign posts uprooted and pointed in wrong directions. But we move that tree with every conversation because every word with the one on the other side is precious. After we finish our brief conversation, she says, "I'll pass you over to Dad now." Rob and I know that she knows that Dad has been gone for 7 years now. It's just that his name is what comes out when Mum thinks of Robert and he doesn't mind. Rob uses Dad's childhood nickname for me and adds a dash of humour to his case of mistaken identity. "Hello Twinkle Toes." We chat about...

By Belinda Tonight, in spite of air conditioning, the air inside feels muggy. Until I open the sliding door to the deck; out there I find a night as steamy as Mum's kitchen on her washing nights of fifty years or so ago, when she would boil our sheets in a dolly tub after work. I slip back inside quickly, with gratitude for even a few degrees of difference in temperature. This was a day of earthquakes and tornadoes in Ontario. I wonder if they were triggered by the fact that at work we held Mock Emergency drills in York and Simcoe. Did the weather want to add some authenticity to our pretend "widespread power failure?" Many people are experiencing the reality of what we role played. I just fell over a pile of golden fur lying outside the bathroom door, strategically placed as a hurdle for someone exiting the bathroom bent on preparing tomorrow night's cell group dinner. Paul pointed out, not helpfully, that I have fallen over...

By Belinda I was home for a much needed "catch up day," but not catching up as much as I'd hoped, when the phone rang. On the other end was a very pleasant voice belonging to a lady from our insurance company. "Do you remember that letter we sent you a week or so ago?" she wanted to know. We needed to update our insurance based on the fact that we have done some home improvements. I knew that the letter was somewhere in a pile on Paul's desk so I apologized for the fact that we hadn't got right on it. "No worries," she said breezily, "you can answer the questions now and I will fill the answers in for you." I had no idea then what a difference of opinion we had about what "no worries" meant, but I was soon to find out. She started with a few easy questions and I began to relax a little, until she asked if we had fire hydrants on our street. Being someone who regularly walks a dog, you would think I would know the answer to t...

It was going to be a few days away at a cottage and she was so excited. At first he was going. We talked about the water and how he would love it. We could see the flash of golden fur in sparkling lake and people running from the shower of water as he shook himself off. But then a worried look crossed Brenda's face. Haliburton was a long distance from Bond Head and Molson doesn't travel well. No, cancel that: He doesn't travel; he paces and pants --and then he does ungentlemanly things--over the back seat. Brenda has a new car. Plans changed; no cottage for Molson . It was either go to the kennel, or stay with me she said. We both knew this conversation was a formality because she knows how much I love him; no kennel for Molson . It was a gray evening a couple of weeks ago when Brenda was still away. Storm clouds were burgeoning and we were settling down for a quiet evening in when the phone rang. Brenda, was calling from the cottage on her cell phone and the lin...

As Wednesday evening approached, the tension grew around here. Molson and Brenda were going for their final stage of testing in order for him to be a therapy dog with the St. John's Ambulance Brigade. Brenda had already gone through rigorous screening, had provided reference letters and been interviewed--but the hour long test on Wednesday had her nerves in shreds--so much was riding on it. She had her heart set on this and she knew the dog would be put through very tough testing. Molson, as usual, was coooool as a cucumber! There were four dogs and their owners being tested that night. The owners were not allowed to speak to their dogs during the test. The dogs and owners had to stand in a circle and each set of dog and owner was given a number to stand on. Whichever owner the evaluator pointed at, had to give their dog the full 6 feet of lead. Then the evaluator watched how they handled meeting the other dogs. No verbal command could be given and no reassurance if they were getti...