Mon petit ami

If you have spent even 40 seconds with me in the past 5 years, you’d know that I have a basset hound, whom I adore.  He is turning 5 in eight short weeks, so I thought I would use tonight, dear internet, to wax a little lovin’ about my little buddy. 

Dear Baxter, 

You have made me laugh every day that I have known you, from the first time we met and you fell into an exhausted sleep on my calf as I knelt on the grass to your daily dramatic perceptions of your little world.  You started out a crazy MoFo; playing hard, eating everything in your way, including a package of Advil, a chocolate cake, and one of my favorite shoes.  I learnt 2 things from you in those early days: if you were too quiet, there was trouble brewing, and that you have a stomach that must be made of freaking IRON.  Wow.

You have evolved into a very delightful creature; you mostly listen to me, you don’t eat stuff off the counters anymore (yes, what a fun time that was), you seem to know when I need a friendly nudge from a wet nose, and you have the sweetest disposition of anyone I know.  Humans included.  

You are patient like I wish I could be, but at the same time have a one-track mind for what you want when you want it, which is something I have to admire.  You wear your big huge heart right on your sleeve, and your feelings are never a mystery.  You are happy from the moment you wake up to the moment I tuck you into the kennel at night, and you seem perfectly content to simply be in whichever room we are in, so you can hear our voices, and maybe have a little try of whatever we’re eating.  Though happy a lot, you are also very suspicious, and remind me of Stanley from The Office.  But it’s cute on you, except when it turns to Stubborn, and you cannot be persuaded to do anything that doesn’t make perfect sense to YOU.  I like to pretend I’m Alpha, but your apathy wins most days.

I love that you sleep for about 21 hours of the day, rising only to take care of business, eat, walk, and race about the house with your squeaky chicken in your mouth.  I love that in the middle of playing, you will pause, and run to fetch a toy to add to the fun.  I love that you are so, so gentle with dogs smaller than you are, and that you are fascinated and utterly respectful of children, even with their erratic movements and loud sounds.  I know you desperately want one of your own, but for now you will have to settle with watching them at the park with your tail waving about.  You will make an excellent Big Brother when the time comes.

I love your excited “stories” when I get home from work.  I imagine that you are telling me all about your day – I can honestly say it’s the favorite time of mine, to hear you explaining what you saw on your walk at lunch, and which friends you sniffed, and where you found something good to roll in.  It’s a nice transition into the home we all share, to have you throw a little parade for me to tell me your stories. 

I love that you lie on the sofa in the evenings and snore so loudly that we have to turn the TV up, I love that there is a tiny bump at the top of your head (the Summit of the Basset Hound), and I love that you race around the house after a walk like it’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to ANYONE ALL DAY!  I marvel at your ability to smell when I am making broccoli for dinner, and know to come and wait for the stump to be placed in your bowl.  I love that you vanish on sunny days, and I find you on a beautifully made bed, with a cream quilt, sleeping in a patch of sunlight.  I love that you appear to be utterly and completely exhausted all the time. It’s cute.  I love that you fall over to sleep like you have been shot and that you sigh when you are upset.  I love that I can trust you to hurt no one and that no one we have met feels at all afraid of you.

Don’t get me wrong, you are also a disgusting little creature.  You have houndy smell to you, and you are an endless source of eye goop (which you EAT!  Gross), stinky piles in the backyard, dirt, hair, drool and other nastiness, and you are perhaps the messiest water drinker EVER.  You belch, a lot.  You eat things I cannot even fathom, and turn every walk into a treasure hunt for discarded food, gum and cigarette butts (AKA Basset Buffet).  But we love you, dude.  You are our French Hunting Dog, and you give this house something we never knew was missing.  I will tuck you in tonight and wish you happy puppy dreams.

 

Suspicious, as usual.

Dreams VS Reality

I’ve been wanting to write, since long before the weekend, about the dismal diet situation, the Boot Camp experience, getting ready and being oh-so-excited about a mini vacation to Smithers, about feeling completely overwhelmed by, well, everything, about being unable to wake myself in the morning and appearing later and later and later at work (oops!), about tasty recipes we’ve tried, and skiing for the first time, and seeing what looked like the Grim Reaper and Santa in the span of 3 days in traffic.  I have wanted to write about thinking of switching jobs, and then not, and about ridiculously burning the candle at all sort of ends in such a way that makes me think I really must be a candle, and that surely my wick is getting short by now.  I have no idea where to begin.  So, in honor of my wonderful groom on Valentine’s Day, I have decided to let someone else do the work for me.  One of my favourite bloogers, Dooce, has posted this meme, and I have decided to join in.  It’s been a way for me to remember what is important in this big list of things I haven’t the energy to write about: my darling partner in this crazy life, Brian.  This is all about us:

What are your middle names?
Mine is Nicole and B’s is Norman.  I like that two thirds of our initials are the same.

How long have you been together?
Since November 1996

How long did you know each other before you started dating?
For about 5 hours.  We met initially over the phone, then had a blind date.  He was mine about 5 minutes after it started.

Who asked whom out?
I think we just mutually agreed that we sounded so delicious to each other that we had no other choice than to meet.  It would have been like stopping a freight train.

How old are each of you?
Brian is 40, and I just turned 34.  He thinks it’s creepy that he was learning to drive when I was only 9.  For the most part, we act as though we are both still teenagers, or other beings who have no responsibility yet.

Whose siblings do you see the most?
 Mine, by default.  Brian has none.

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
When Brian turns 40 and has a freaking Big Mid Life Crisis.  Aside from that, my financial restraints are the biggest sore spot.

Did you go to the same school? Nope.  Brian went a snooty prestigious private school, and I went to plain old public school.  

Are you from the same home town?
Nope.  He’s an island city boy, and I’m a country mouse from Smithers.

Who is smarter?
I honestly think we are pretty well matched, although I can be quite dim at times (really, I ask the MOST retarded questions).

Who is the most sensitive?
Definitely me.  Brian also has his moments.

Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Sad, but A&W.  We go for Whistle Dogs on the weekends when we’re out running about trying to get all the stupid weekend stuff done.  When we’re not eating like white trash, we like to go to The Boathouse or Joey’s – Joey’s has hot waitresses and I can’t say I mind it.

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
Cuba.

Who has the craziest exes?
Brian.  No bloody question.  Mine look like Mr. Rogers next to his.

Who has the worst temper?
Um, me.  Brian hates to fight, and I am very passionate and a tad explosive.

Who does the cooking?
Me.  Brian used to have one night a week when he was supposed to cook.  It happened a few times, but then he told me how very much he dislikes it, and that he would rather do anything but cook.  So I let him deal with the cat litter emptying.

Who is the neat-freak?
Brian is more neat than I, but I am cleaner, or have a higher standard of cleanliness.

Who is more stubborn?
I suppose I am.

Who hogs the bed?
It’s pretty even, although we both have a tendency to snore lately.

Who wakes up earlier?
Brian.  He jumps up and immediately showers.  I life to lie about and flip over as many times as possible before getting up, alarm blaring that I don’t hear.

Where was your first date?
He came and met me at the theatre I was working at, we went for nachos and beer at the George and Dragon pub, then we went to my house for a game of Monopoloy (?) and some more food, then we went back to the theatre for a midnight performance of 29 Plays in 59 Minutes by Theatre SKAM.  We didn’t have our first kiss until 4 days later.

Who is more jealous?
We’ve talked about this a lot, and we’re about the same, which is hardly jealous.

How long did it take to get serious?
Me: about a week.  Brian, about the same.  Awwww.

Who eats more?
I am more of a foodie, but he has a bigger appetite, so Brian does.  We differ in that I will eat tons of something I really love, but he will stop after only a serving.  Cha!

Who does the laundry?
We each do our own.  This rule began when Brian realized that, funny, seems you can’t put cashmere in the DRYER.  He also does not sort the colors and whites.  Ever.

Who’s better with the computer?
Ha!  We are both about the same, which is to say we both know the basics of operating one.  I am still perplexed that the internet is seemingly floating around my house, and he is not exactly a wealth of knowledge, either.

Who drives when you are together?  If we are in my car, then I do.  If we are in the truck, then he does.  I am much more of a confident driver when he is not with me.

–

That’s it.  Time to walk the dog and fret about everything in the first paragraph.  I am feeling much happier in general, so I guess this worked.