The Rainbow Bridge....

Eleven and a half years ago when I worked in Hamilton I walked into a low income co-op townhouse community and found a 10 month old purebred german shepherd in a cage in the kitchen that was half his size. He slept with is legs bent sideways and his head and neck twisted to bend within the realms of the cage. It was heartbreaking! The people that owned him: the guy wanted a german shepherd that made a statement of fierce and mean - he worked 12 hour shifts and was never home to look after the dog. The woman had her hands full with 3 young children and didn't like dogs to begin with. They had a cat. The dog lived in the cage in the kitchen.
My Mom and Dad had lost a german shepherd about 2 months earlier. We always had german shepherds and in the past had always got our dogs from reputable breeders. My Mom and Dad were on a trip across Canada at the time but independently and without the other knowing, had always called me to see if I knew of any dog that needed a good home. They were both in denial that they wanted another dog and perhaps refused to admit that to one another. After many anonymous calls from both of them I decided to find a dog for them.
While working for the Hamilton Spectator and reading multiple newspapers a day (afterall, that was my business) I came across this ad. For whatever reason, and this particular ad, I called the people and went to see the dog. It was one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life.
I have to tell you that me and my Mom and Dad are extreme animal lovers.
When I arrived at the townhouse and seen this poor german shepherd bent up in this small cage in the kitchen, it was all I could do not to verbally and physically abuse the owners. I was disgusted and had never seen anything so sad in my life. The eyes on this 10 month old german shepherd spoke loud and clear. He was not mean or fierce. He was friendly and simply dealt a bad hand to people who did not deserve him. I immediately asked to have the dog taken out of the cage. I asked to take the dog outside. They told me he had never run on his own. He had never gone down steps. He had never played in an open environment. He had never seen anything outside of a 10X10 area that he was allowed to poop in. I said - LET THE DOG OUT OF THE CAGE!!
I had a frisbee in my car at the time. It took me awhile to get the dog to come down the front steps. He didn't know how to walk down stairs! For 3 hours, I played frisbee with this dog. He was a dream. I knew right away he didn't have a mean bone in his body. He would never be mean and fierce like the shithead owner wanted him to be. After 3 hours, I took the dog back into the house and said I wanted first dibs on the dog. I said I would be back in 2 days to do this all over again and if the dog responded the same way - I would take the dog.
Two days later, I arrived to play frisbee with the dog again. I was not leaving without that dog! Bottom line!! For another 3 hours, I played with this dog in an open environment. I bought the dog on the spot and loaded him into my car. I actually felt like I had rescued an animal. I was even afraid to stop for gas cause I didn't know if this german shepherd would try to bolt from my car. He did no such thing. He swear to this day, he and I had an understanding that he was being saved and going to a place that would give him a much better life.
I loaded him into my car (with my german shepherd) not knowing how 2 german shepherds would get along in the back of a buick for a 2 hour ride. He was fine. (He barfed, cause he'd never been in a car before, but he was fine. So was my old 10 year old shepherd Tye.)
My Mom and Dad had just returned from their trip and had taken the boat out for a ride. When they returned, they found a 10 month old german shepherd with a red bow around his neck and a letter that said he would promise to be the best dog they had ever had! He didn't lie!
For the next 11 years, I watched him run free on a beautiful property in Muskoka. I watched him lunge off a dock everytime someone would jump in. With his stick in his mouth and his legs tucked up he would jump as far as he could. I think he smiled every day! I think I smiled everyday knowing I had saved this beautiful animal. My Mom and Dad smiled everyday because they truly had the best german shepherd they had ever had in their life.
On Thursday March 22nd, 2007 I received a phone call from my Dad. He couldn't even get the words out. I was at work and said I was leaving and would meet them at the vets. I was there from the beginning and I had to be there at the end. I needed Jag to know that I would take him full circle, that even in his difficult journey, we would walk him across his rainbow bridge. My Dad sat on the floor with Jag's head in his lap. We lost a very dear friend that day. My german shepherd Mick lost his best friend that day too - he still wanders Mom and Dad's house looking for him....and so do we.
Today was the first day that I went to Mom & Dads since Jag's passing. I walked in and cried. I didn't like it there. It's just not the same.
I will miss him with all my heart!
Run freely on rainbow bridges my dear friend for you will never be caged again!
Forever in my heart.
Lisa

The Gods Must Be CRAZY....

The last couple of weeks have been somewhat interesting to say the least. It all started a couple of weekends ago when for no apparent reason I found myself ditching the normal status quo of doing fuck all, to all of a sudden finding myself driving aimlessly around Muskoka in what turned out to be "what I think" was a themed weekend. Spontaneous is what I would like to call it, however out of control would probably seem more appropriate. After having enough of kids asking for gas money for snowmobiles, the other gender asking for a "cook" every hour on the hour and probably feeling sorry for myself somewhere in there, I headed out into the wild blue yonder one Sunday morning to fill my senses with a fantasy that only I could enjoy. First I hit the bank (no explanation needed here), then I hit the car dealership - yep all of a sudden on this bright Sunday morning I thought I would buy myself a Cadillac SRX, Oh ya, I was gonna have my owwwwnnn pimp wagon. I already owned the pink fuzzy hat so what the hell, I needed a vehicle to match, and what the heck, this day was about me!! I trudged through the snow (in my fat pants) and I owned the world visualizing me driving down the road with the thumpin' bass and music blaring. (Thank God the dealership wasn't open!) I would have made a great gangsta that day. I ended up at WallyMart buying more fat pants (but tight ones - cause they'll look real good on me) and a string bikini (ha, just kidding). Oh ya, all new makeup, new hot lipstick, and self waxing shit (I'll get into that later!) In the music department, pretending I knew what I was looking at, I strutted my stuff looking at all the new discs available - I was hip, I walked out with Justin Timberlake's new album (oh, sorry disc is the proper term) with the song SexyBack! (Are you starting to see a connection here??). I also bought Christina Aguilera's new disc and of course couldn't resist good old Bob Seger and a disco extravaganza. (Actually I put the disco extravaganza back). Down a few isles, I bought all new bedding in a cheesy fake suede and new neck snappin' pillows. Oh, back up.......I also picked up a 16 pack of AA batteries that were on sale and I wasn't passing that up!! May as well jack up the pink pearl while I was at it!!
The next day I purchased a new bedroom suite (for the spare room) and decided to rip my house apart further and redecorate the spare room in an island/coastal/Bahama look. Why? Who the hell knows!! I also proceed in the next couple of days to have a wild party of 1 or should I say 2 (me and a very big bottle of red wine). I have learned that i probably should not be left alone when I do this because I hurt myself. It's really amazing what a bottle of red wine can do to a person. All of a sudden I convinced myself I had become Paula Abdule and could do dance moves far beyond my stretching or dancing ability. But hey, I watched myself in the reflection of the windows and I was good, I was really good - and couldn't understand why I didn't pursue my dancing career further. I had even convinced myself that I could walk into any skating club and become the next big choreographer for their best up and coming skater. Once was out of breath and realized that every neighbour around the lake could see what I was doing, I thought it would be a good time to stop dancing but put some effort into making myself look more beautiful for my new career as a choreographer and dance professional. So I got my new HOME WAXING kit out. Wrong!!!!!! Do not ever do this! They should have very large warnings on the label about doing this - especially after a very large bottle of red wine. Those cat whiskers I had grown on my upper lip and chin were coming off - unfortunately so was all the skin that was under them. I never realized I had so much hair on my upper lip that it camouflage my lip wrinkles. Now, days later, I have a scab on my chin from skin trying to grow back and I have had some sort of reaction that has caused puss filled pimples to line my upper lip. I AM BEAUTIFUL!! NOT!!! I am a mess!!!.....So here I sit, in fat pants, with no pimp wagon, cheesy bed sheets, a scabby chin, puss filled pimples all over my lip, wearing hot lipstick and a pink fuzzy hat.....and a pink pearl that'll go 8.7 seconds on ANY bull named Fu Man Chu!!!!

Blow out the candles....

When is it appropriate to tell a women she is fat - and at what point does that person throwing that death spear right into her heart decide that it shouldn't hurt her anymore? Never!! That is the answer that all you pea-brained men should figure out - get it?....it never stops hurting. If you want to be a prick and purposely hurt us - just tell us we're fat! It'll work every time!! Do they not understand that a women generally tends to be very hard on herself at the best of times and continually beats herself up inside because of things like wobbly thighs, droopy boobs, swinging arms, rolls of back fat, and the ability to grow whiskers like a cat. Some women ride a roller coaster of hell going from fat to skinny, fat to skinny on a yearly basis. Things are good when skinny arrives cause everything she does protrudes confidence and fun. But when fat arrives its a "run for the hills and bury your head in the sand and hope it goes away" feeling. Its depressing and lonely!
Lets face it, its hard enough to feel sexy when you have to live in track pants. All the beautiful lingerie is now just a figment of your imagination - ain't no way in hell I'm putting that shit on right now - so like everything else including your spirit and your soul, it hangs in your closet and collects dust. So the next time you want me to take off my clothes and get intimate with you, remember one thing - I have never forgot EVERY time you told me I was fat - and just because last night you decided that since it was my birthday to "be nice" and tell me I was "wide" instead of fat - well lets just say you blew out another candle. Happy Birthday to Me!!

How's YOUR addiction doing??

So it seems some people are addicted to this blog........HA, how does it feel not to get your fix. How does it feel to continually check and find that I've written nothing?? How does it feel to not get a simple pleasure when you're expecting it?
How's my addiction doing you ask? Oh I'm doing just fine with MY addiction, can't you tell??
I'm with Spears - FUCK REHAB!!