Who Says You Can’t Buy Love

I never had a pet when I was a child. Well, not a real pet, one that you could cuddle with, play with and one that would love you unconditionally. I feel that I was short changed in some way just because my dad didn’t want a pet. I don’t think he had anything against animals in general but I suspect he knew that in spite of what his two boys said it would be he that walked the dog, cleaned the kitty litter box and paid the bills for food and health of those animals.

 

When I was eight or so I had my tonsils out and when asked what I wanted I told my mom and dad I wanted a dog. I got home from the hospital and instead of a dog there was a very sickly looking canary that instead of singing would give out a pathetic “peep…peep” every now and then. He came from a neighbour that had kept it in the basement without love or the basic minimal care any animal needs. I quickly tired of the canary, it couldn’t fetch, roll over or sit up. Every now and then it would fall off of it’s perch, but that was from exhaustion not a clever trick. Eventually my grandmother took the bird and nursed it back to health just in time for it to die.

 

We had two guppies that quickly became two thousand which dad released into the wild sewage creek behind our house. The most entertaining thing the guppies ever did was flop all over dad when he slipped going down the bank, some of them ending up in his underwear. Still the stuff of family legend.

 

My brother brought home a stray, snow white cat once. He said it followed him home but I would bet it came home in a bag of some sort. We called it Snoball. It was a wonderful pet during the daytime, but at night it would run up and down the hall howling and in the morning would hide under mom and dad’s bed so that it could rake it’s claws across dad’s ankles the instant his feet touched the floor. Good times…good times!

I kept grasshoppers in a jar until they died and did the same for frogs, butterflies and fireflies. I guess we weren’t a pet friendly home.

When I had kids of my own I vowed to get a dog so they would have built in playmates and I would have something that looked forward to seeing me when I came home no matter what kind of an asshole I had been in the morning. So for we have had Benji, Bailey and are currently blessed with Buster. If  it weren’t for Buster I wouldn’t get any exercise at all and I wouldn’t have anyone to listen to me. Louise tolerates me, but all I have to do is give Buster a treat and I own his soul. I think the kids liked the idea of having a dog growing up because they have all had dogs as adults.

This past weekend I went with Arwen, Hurricane and Tornado to pick up a rescue dog at an Animal Shelter in a nearby town. I was there to look after the boys while Arwen went in to do the paperwork involved in pet adoption. She came out with a Shepherd cross and the hopes that it won’t get too big over time. The name the shelter gave her was Marley, but as soon as they got home she became the dog named Sue. I have seen a few pictures of everyone in the family in various stages of cuddling with Sue. I think Sue found a loving home and a loving home found Sue.

 

Who says you can’t buy love?

Convict Work Detail

I have mentioned in the past that I am something of a human magpie. I like nothing better than walking at the side of a road or highway checking out the interesting stuff that ends up in the gutter. I know that this is not everyone’s idea of a good time, but it gives me a chance to defocus on my life and look into the lives of others. Those others are litterbugs for the most part.

You might wonder just what I find so interesting so I will tell you just what I found on my walk yesterday morning. I found five Bingo scratch tickets and a $21 dollar Lotto Max ticket from May 1^st. Not surprisingly, the scratch tickets and the lotto ticket didn’t win anything. I have found ones in the past that paid off but not yesterday. I did however manage to remove the tickets from the side of the road to the recycle bin behind my house. I found a 500 foot roll of 1/4 inch white ribbon which may or may not be used for crafts and or wrapping presents. It might get buried at the back of my workbench and whoever cleans out the garage when I die will have to toss it in the large bin they will need to rent for all of that crap I have collected. I found a slotted screwdriver which aside from having a slight bend (since straightened) is in good condition. A pair of sunglasses that I will never use but will clean and keep in the car for anyone who needs a shield from the sun. I also picked up an iPhone 5 that was damaged beyond repair.

I have a small collection of phones that someday I plan to use for a costume, craft or to cobble together a communication device after Armageddon. More than likely those phones will find themselves in the large bin after I die. Not yesterday’s phone though. While lying in bed this morning I realized that the phone was found where a day before there was a terrible accident caused by road rage and one young fellow died. I took the phone to the Calgary City Police head office which was locked and when I called the security office I was told that I would have to go to a district office. Weird!

When I worked at the Postal plant there was no postal outlet for people to mail items. Seemed kind of strange at the time and still does, but I suppose there must be a reason. I guess the reason could be that the place was run by idiots.

Speaking of which, I drove to the District office and phoned the number that was on the locked door. A cop answered and when I told him about the phone he reluctantly agreed to come and get it. He took my name and phone numbers and I drove home. I knew it wasn’t going to go smoothly, but I had done a good deed.

An hour or so later I got a call from a detective in the homicide department who wanted me to write a statement and send it in. Sure…in for a penny; in for a pound.

I got a response thanking me for the statement and a bright red warning that I should not share the email or part thereof with anyone. I guess that would make me a criminal. I have visions of being grilled by a defense lawyer at some time in the future about what the weather was like and just why I picked up evidence in a criminal trial. Of course I will go into the human magpie story and how I like to walk at the side of the highway picking up other peoples garbage.

I doubt I will get more than three years in a minimum security facility. On the bright side, I might get on the convict work detail cleaning up the highway.