Doggie Decisions

It was tears before bed at one point last week in our household, when Glory realized she was indeed having an allergic reaction to Canéla.

The pooch had done very well in her first few days with us - no 'accidents' in the house at all, no chewing of shoes or table legs, and reasonable, if sometimes rambunctious behaviour.

We had told Glory to be honest with us, because as hard as it would be to part with Canéla if we had to, we could not endanger hers or anyone else's health for the sake of a pet. And although we told her time and time again that it was not her fault if this unfortunate circumstance came to pass, we knew no matter how many times we reinforced this she would never truly feel that way.

This was especially hard on Glory since she has been the one spending the most time with the terrier - Audrey and I both had work, and Fenya's classes and study time left her behind the door of her room on most weekdays.  Glory had taught Canéla to sit very early on and was very good about not letting her jump up on her. She spent much of the day sitting with her on the kitchen floor so the pooch wouldn't feel lonely or abandoned.

The symptoms were fairly mild, and she felt much better the next day. Later on, when Audrey and I grimly asked how she was feeling, she replied, "I was a lot better after spending the night away from her, and it is mostly just sniffles anyhow."

"Is it the kind of thing you might need to take medication for?" I asked cautiously.

"Maybe?" she said. "The important thing though, is that she is not leaving this house."

And that is how we found out we are keeping our new dog.

Friends of ours who are pet owners despite having allergies themselves have chimed in with messages of support and advice, and half a week later, it seems like only intermittent medication is needed at this point. Once Glory finds a job and is spending a little more time outside the home (which will be good for her both income as well as combatting cabin fever), the impacts should be mitigated even further.

In the meantime, acclimatization to our new family member continues. It is astonishing to think that a dog so close in weight to Nitti could be so much taller, and almost all of that height is in the legs. This can create some interesting tableaux, like when Canéla stands up with her feet on an armrest in the living room and make eye contact with someone next to the kitchen sink.

My argument for an off-kilter spelling of her name never made it out of committee, and that is fine; my next goal is to standardize the spelling of Canéla with an accented e (Alt+0233), like when you see "olé!" written outside of Mexico.

She is getting walked regularly, which is good for her and even better for us. She has largely adapted to the cold weather, although she still has a tendency to keep her back left foot off the ground, so we will need a vet to look at that before too long. 

The temptation to get a DNA test done in order to know what breed she might be is hard to resist. Our best guess is maybe a mix of border terrier and Wheaten terrier, but Canéla's colouring, leg length and body language make me wonder if she maybe has some coyote in her. A lot of this is probably just my association with some of her expressions, which remind me a little of Wile E. holding up a sign asking, "In heaven's name, what have I DONE?"

Last night we brought her to the basement for the very first time, and the extra space gave her an opportunity to cut loose a little bit, playfighting, tossing her toys about and racing around frantically in what we used to call "puppy rodeo" but is known to many dog owners as "the zoomies."

We think she is around a year-and-a-half old, which means there is a lot of puppy in her still. She can get overexcited pretty easily and sounds absolutely ferocious with her growls and snarls, but her tail never stops wagging either, and she is quick enough to stop when you let her know she's overstepped.

It's still too early to determine how much trouble we may have gotten ourselves into with all this, but at least it promises to be entertaining! And in the meantime, Canéla seems to feel secure and at home with us.

Gone to the Dog?

And so it came to pass, perhaps surprisingly, that the Fitzpatricks welcomed another dog into their home early in 2021. But would they be able to keep her? What will be outcome of this blog's first cliffhanger entry?

If you read my overwrought farewell to our beloved canine companion Nitti back in October, you will not be surprised to learn that the whole experience was pretty exhausting on us as a family. So much so, in fact, that Audrey and I were unsure if we even wanted to get another dog. "Every puppy is a countdown to tragedy," as they say, and we were none too keen on repeating that experience.

But the worst thing about not having Nitti around was seeing all the places he could have been - looking out the window, lapping up a drink at his water dish, or sitting on the recliner next to me while I worked from home. We found ourselves longing for the sound of his nails on the linoleum overhead and hated the fact that there was no reason not to lock the back door after dinner, since he would not need to be let out one last time before bed. For a dog that weighed less than thirty pounds, he left a hole in our lives that a beluga could have swum through, so we started actively looking for another dog to adopt before the end of October.

And while we are not fussy people in terms of breed, breeding or colour, there were a number of criteria any new dog would need to meet: not a puppy, but not too old either; not a purse dog, but small enough to feel comfortable in our house and yard; and no specific breed, but definitely non-shedding as Glory and I both have allergy issues.

And with the Edmonton Humane Society closed to adoptions, it was up to Audrey to sort out the various animal rescue organizations, starting locally but soon ranging all across the province. We made it to the interview stage of a society here in Edmonton, but there were no matching dogs. Luckily, Audrey made a connection with a volunteer at the Cochrane Humane Society. When she asked about our previous dog-owning experience, Audrey offered to send her a link to my blog. The next day she wrote back to say,  "okay, my eyes are all red, I have used up all my tissues and I can barely swallow. We are gonna get you guys a dog."

Nothing panned out for her, but she put us in contact with someone at Rocky Mountain Animal Rescue near Canmore who had some rescues coming in from Mexico, of all places. After completing their adoption application and following up with two emails full of photographs of our home and yard, we were approved to adopt Canéla, a year-and-a-half old terrier mix who had been found in a vacant lot in Cozumel. It is probable that her owners had to move out of the area after losing their jobs due to Covid and could not afford to bring her along.

With excitement and trepidation in equal measure, Audrey, Glory and I loaded up the kennel and blankets into the Flex this morning so we could pick up Canéla from Canmore. 

It was bitterly cold in Edmonton when we left, but as we approached the mountains, we saw the temperature rise from -20 to -2.

Soon enough, we found ourselves outside an acreage just west of Canmore, where we went in to meet our prospective new pooch (if, heaven forbid, we are unable to keep her due to allergies or such, we are able to return her).

The poor animal hasn't been in the country for a full week yet, and although she was understandably shy around us newcomers, she obviously had a lot of trust and affection for the volunteers looking after her. They gave Audrey some treats to entice her over, and she greeted each of us in turn. 

They asked if we wanted to take her for a short walk, the longest time she has been on a leash in months. While still visibly apprehensive, with her tail tucked between her legs, she was also very curious and happy to be outside, despite what has to be a shocking change in ambient temperature from what she is used to in Cozumel.

We returned to the house, Audrey completed the needed paperwork and we carried Canéla out to the Flex, and prompted her into the kennel on the back seat for the ride to her new home.

Canéla is about the same weight as Nitti (who was 26 lbs at his last regular vet visit) but is oriented in a completely different fashion. As Glory put it, Nitti didn't really have any discernible knees, while this terrier is a leggy beastie to be sure, with sizable feet to match. This made it a snugger fit inside the kennel, but she seemed content to let her head hang out the door and visit with Glory in the back seat.

Glory took Canéla out for a walk when we stopped for gas at Cross Iron, but after a few minutes in a noisy parking lot at -13, she quickly displayed her preference for the car. Since she had been getting warm though, we put the kennel in the back and let her stretch out on the blankets covering the seat.

She alternated getting scratches from Glory and curling up with her toy dog Douglas that the volunteers had given her.

We left the house at twenty to nine in the morning and got back about a quarter past seven at night, greeted by an ecstatic Fenya. All four of us spent a little time on the floor together while Canéla explored the kitchen (blocked off by a recently acquired baby gate until she is housetrained) and accepted scratches and pets from each of us.

She is obviously a little underfed ("You need to chuck a couple of cheeseburgers into that dog" my brother-in-law suggested) but is doing very well for a dog that spent at least half a year in an animal shelter in Cozumel (that's like, what - four human years at a medium-security correctional facility I figure? Brr!). She is also no fan of going outside to do her business, but hey, who would be in this weather.

We are still trying to sort out her name, but the temporary one given to her by the workers as the shelter in Cozumel is starting to grow on us. If we end up going with Canéla, I have suggested perhaps spelling it K'Nayla, as it looks even more exotic and is closer to the Spanish pronunciation of her name than can-NELL-uh, which comes pretty naturally when you read it.

And should anyone snort disdainfully and ask why we gave our dog a Klingon name, I look forward to telling them, "oh no, her name is just Spanish for cinnamon."

In the meantime though, we are keeping a wary eye out for potential behavioral issues and of course, allergic reactions from Glory and I. Glory actually was a little sniffly tonight, but she was around quite a few dogs (and a cat) at the Rescue Society this afternoon as well. Audrey is bathing the dog right now so we can have a good baseline for evaluating tomorrow, so we should know in the next few days whether we can keep her, or face a different kind of canine heartbreak next weekend when we have to return her.

Stay tuned!

B&W & Huh? All Over - WandaVision Reviewed (eps 1-2)

The term "Marvel Zombie" was originally coined by fans of other comics companies (such as the one Stan Lee referred to as "the Distinguished Competition"). It was meant to disparage their blind or exclusive loyalty to a comics publisher, but the apellation eventually became perverse source of pride for anyone who read primarily Marvel Comics.

I read comics from all sorts of publishers, so I never really considered myself a Marvel Zombie until the Marvel Cinematic Universe established itself. With 23 cinematically released features in just over 12 years, I find myself eagerly anticipating each new release, even from characters whose stories I rarely read on paper. Now, thanks to the global pandemic and the delayed release of the Black Widow, Shang-Chi and Eternals films, I have found myself without a new Marvel Studios offering for the longest time since Iron Man came out in 2008 - until Friday.

Friday afternoon I finally subscribed to the Disney+ streaming service (it was an inevitability, really) so we could all watch the first Marvel Studios series on that platform - WandaVision. It was also one of those rare experiences where the whole family was available to watch, which made it even more enjoyable.

WandaVision is a wild ride, to be sure; a delirious take on pop culture and television history wrapped in both humour and pathos, with absolutely nothing in the way of traditional tights-and-fights superheroics in the first two episodes. It is entertaining, both funny and ominous, and with seven episodes to go, absolutely none of us have any real sense of what is going on.

As outlined by the trailer, we know WandaVision starts out in a traditional, b&w tv sitcom format, complete with title sequences and commercials. Styles and mores from the period abound - not just the clothes and hairstyles but for instance, the idea of a housewife cooking a meal for her husband's boss in hopes of better consideration for a promotion. Full marks for the historic looks achieved in hair, wardrobe, production design and even cinematography.

And here is the weirdest thing - the characters actually work really well in this format. The idea of a telekinetic wife and robotic husband trying to fit in and pass themselves off as normal people has been established via classic sitcoms like Bewitched and My Favourite Martian, to name but two. Elizabeth Olsen and Paul Bettany have good comic timing and very decent chemistry together, so as a one-off vanity project and period pastiche, WandaVision has potential all on its own.

But things are not quite right, are they? The last time we saw Vision, he was being destroyed by Thanos in 2018's Infinity War before Wanda helped to (ahem) avenge him in Endgame a year later (or five years later for some folk in the MCU). Right off the hop, you can ask "how is Vision back?" as well as "why are they on tv in the 50s (then 60s)?" and finally "where are they and what the hell is actually going on?"

Thankfully there are clues: odd moments of meta-awareness by Wanda within the "show." Bits of spot colour like a red light on an ominously beeping Stark Industries toaster or a toy helicopter found in a bush. A mysterious message heard over the radio. Out of place interrogations from Vision's boss Mr. Hart or their nosy neighbour Agnes. A clear progression from the 50s to the 60s even in the first two episodes. And most tellingly, the depiction of person or persons unknown having watched the same show we have in a modern-day, high-tech setup, with a SWORD logo displayed on a nearby monitor.

Lots of teases and possible clues for us comics fans too, from an ominous bone and helmet shown in the animated opening sequence of episode 2 and tiny, crypto references like ads for Bova milk (the name of the cow-human hybrid midwife who delivered Wanda (and her brother Pietro/Quicksilver) in the comics). Just how much of an influence was Tom King's brilliant 2016 Vision miniseries?

(Picture supplied by The Rare Hipster)

But is there more? Does Vision's opening quip about 'flying saucers' reference actual extraterrestrials? After all, SWORD could stand for Sentient Worlds Observation and Response Department like it does in the comics. Or could the innocuous chewing gum Big Red be a reference to Mephisto, the Marvel Universe's analogue to Satan? Wanda has had her own run-ins with the same fiend who undid Spider-Man's marriage. Wanda is also rumoured to future prominently in the next Doctor Strange movie, The Multiverse of Madness, so mystical implications could be at play here as well. Hmm, in the comics, Wanda is taught in the arcane arts by the witch Agatha Harkness...Ag...nes? Hmm...

Well, speculation is futile (and fun!), but with the control Wanda seems capable of exerting within her televised environment, the biggest question seems to be whether this whole situation is being done to her, or by her. And either way, who is watching?

Lots of people, I bet - and the four of us, for certain. 

Kudos to Marvel for a bold entry into the streaming content wars with a show that feels like superhero movies by way of the original Twilight Zone and surreally peppered with bits of Twin Peaks for good measure. This Marvel Zombie will be coming back for more.

Democracy Inaction

It would be funny if it weren't so tragic.

On Wednesday this past week, the unrest being fomented by the soon-to-be-former U.S. President came to a head. Following nine weeks of lies by Donald Trump about election fraud, he urged his followers to come to Washington on January 6, the day the electoral votes were being certified, a largely ceremonial function, and protest the results and a free and fair election. 

And let's be clear here - while there are obviously cases of rightfully rejected ballots here and there and reports of spurious ones getting through, there is no evidence whatsoever suggesting the kind of widespread and institutional shenanigans being alleged, despite dozens of cases brought to court by P45 and his legal team, every single one of which to date has been rejected by judges (many of which were appointed by Trump).

At the protest, Trump riled up his most dedicated supporters and directed them to march on the Capitol in order to convey 'strength' to the Senators and Representatives voting there, including the one presiding over the matter, Trump's own VP, Mike Pence.

Trump told his acolytes he would be joining them, adding to their fervour, but then beetled off back to the White House to watch things unfold.

And what unfolded was a travesty. 

Undersupported Capitol police were unable to staunch the surging crowds who physically broke into the building and wreaked havoc. The chambers were evacuated and staff and politicians moved to secure locations (and thankfully, quick-thinking staff were able to grab the actual physical elector ballots as well, or they would certainly have been destroyed, muddying the waters even further).

In addition to the uproar, disruption, vandalism and terror one might expect from such a debacle, five lives ended up being lost, including two Capitol Police officers. But as more reports and videos emerge from Wednesday's fracas, it is apparent that things could have been much much, much worse.

• A gallows was erected on the Capitol grounds, among other ominous, code-laden symbols
• A police officer was almost crushed by a door while the mob yelled "heave ho, heave ho" and trying to push their way past.
• Groups of insurrectionists roamed the Capitol building chanting "hang Pence, hang Pence."
• Multiple invaders were spotted carrying bundles of zip-tie handcuffs and tasers, suggesting there was a plan, or at least an effort, to take prisoners or hostages.

Tales are also emerging of how little time there was between the perimeter breach and the chambers themselves being invaded, and how at least one officer (a black man, facing an almost exclusively white mob, by the way), led one group of invaders away from the senate chambers, buying them valuable moments to continue their evacuation.

And although it is tempting to write the whole affair off as a farce, remember that large swathes of the ultra-right try to cloak themselves as satirical or ironic clowns in order to avoid consequences for their heinous actions under the time-honoured but only sporadically effective "just kidding, lol" defence. 

Thankfully, law-enforcement agencies seem to be taking it seriously, treating the incident as an attempted insurrection and prosecuting the individuals they can find (many of whom either made little or no efforts at disguise or willingly identified themselves.

But this is small potatoes. These people are largely idiots, whipped into a frenzy and exploited by a power-hungry demagogue. What about the instigators?

Well, Trump has been banned from Twitter (a mixed bag, since now we can only guess at what he is thinking instead of having him broadcast it nearly constantly) as well as Reddit, Twitch, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, and even Stripe, the e-commerce company that enables a lot of his online political fundraising.  He is also facing a potential second impeachment and there is even a slight chance of the 25th Amendment being used to remove him due to his being incapacitated.

But whatever. In all honesty, I have given up hope in Trump ever being held truly accountable, and I don't think he will be able to mount an effective re-election campaign in 2024 at this point, so it is almost enough for me not to hear as much about him due to his being so effectively de-platformed, at least for the moment.

No, I reserve my deepest ire for Trump's enablers.

Trump is, and always has been a maniacal, narcissistic and selfish opportunist - everything he has done, including inciting insurrection, was clearly within his capabilities. He is the scorpion riding the back of a frog called America.

But other people, particularly elected officials, should know better. When the riot ended and the chambers resumed their business, working through the night to certify the electoral votes and bring the horrors of this election to a final end, some of them chose to continue following the President's wishes and object to certification.

This is not because they honestly believe that there was widespread fraud in the states in question. Most of them will admit to this if asked, claiming instead that their objections are principled criticisms of election security and investigation. But in truth, it is to curry favour with a bullying leader and a populist movement that still has a stranglehold on the Party of Lincoln.

In an evening that saw these eight Senators cowering in a secure space while other people fought and in some cases died to maintain security and order, they came back into session and had the unmitigated temerity to continue their objections and to prop up Donal Trump's monumental lie that the election was stolen.

Senators Ted Cruz and Josh Hawley try to base their objections on the fact that 39% of Americans don't have faith in the results of the election. They are unwilling to accept any correlation between this figure and the fact that the President has abused his office and spread lie after lie and wasted legal argument after legal argument squawking about the supposed unfairness and statistical impossibility of his loss, all while providing zero evidence to back up his scurrilous assertions. He, and just importantly, they, have undermined faith not only in their own country's government but in democracy itself.

Thankfully, there is the potential for consequences here as well. Cruz and Hawley are now facing calls to resign, some of which come from within their own party. A petition by alumni of their law schools to have both of them disbarred gathered 500 signatures in less than 48 hours.

Hawley, a freshman Senator, appears to be getting the worst of it, accused by a former senator and sponsor of having "blood on his hands," a sentiment echoed by the Kansas City Star, among others. His pending book deal has also been cancelled by his publisher, removing a significant leg from the platform he hoped might make him a presidential hopeful in 2024. 

Meanwhile though, toadies and lickspittles who would rather have a strongman in the Oval Office than someone actually elected to the office continue to defend the actions of those contesting an election that has been settled for weeks.

Division continues, cynicism grows, and another rough beast slouches off towards Bethlehem to be born in the next election cycle. But if we can have even a smidgen of comeuppance for people like Ted Cruz and Josh Hawley, I will content myself with that, as well as with the silence once filled with Trump's tweeting.

As Much Nothing As Possible

The liquor cabinet is significantly lighter, most of the additional cheeses brought in for the season have been eaten, and now the inevitable return to normalcy slouches out of our Bethlehem holiday mindset and drags us kicking and screaming back to a painfully mundane (but in fariness, far more sustainable) existence.

Well, many of us, anyways. Audrey will be working remotely for the first week of the new school year, and Fenya's classes don't resume until Jan. 11, but it is business as usual for me tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m.

It was weird not seeing family members or friends in person for Christmas, and especially troubling  with my sister testing positive for Covid from her job in Texas. But there were net positives as well, if I am being honest.

For instance, in between Roll20 and getting the tabletop set up at home for the first time in over half a year, I got in 23 hours of D&D between Dec. 20 and today. Rolling some dice, having some laughs and sharing some snacks (where safe) felt grand, even if the majority of contact was over a Google Meeting. And playing from noon until 11 pm on the 27th with the family was a real trip down memory lane for me. 

Being confined to quarters and having both girls at home gave me a chance to share a bunch of old school Star Trek, and they managed to watch all eight Harry Potter movies over the break, with Glory even making some butterbeer inspired by the stories at one point.

We finally got the whole family to sit down for a game of Wingspan, a wonderful board game that is sometimes tricky to understand, but easy to play once you wrap your head around it, and which also may be the most beautful board game I own. I also finished building all the pieces for the Aliens: Another Glorious Day in the Corps board game I had pre-ordered in the summer but which only arrived the Sunday before Christmas. Still not sure how the game is supposed to work as a solo experience, but hope to rope in the girls for a game next week and can perhaps post a review after that. At least it looks good though!

We ate plates of sausages and cheese, leftover ham, grilled vegetables, pizza, egg nog french toast and today, Soul in a Bowl from OEB, to both commemorate and mourn the end of a wonderful time together. 

On New Year's Eve, we ate fondue, then turned down the lights, turned up the volume and enjoyed the Muse: Simulation Theory concert film - what a spectacle! Sadly, it is only 90 minutes long, but that gave us plenty of time to swtich over to Rick Mercer for the countdown at midnight.

Not a lot of projects got done (unless you count the collective Christmas puzzle we worked on) but this was to be expected. This year the Christmas break was precisely that: a respite.

John Lennon has been quoted as saying that "Time you enjoyed wasting was not wasted" which I think is true, and perhaps more applicable to this Christmas than those that have gone before. But I also think of a quote from the Tao of Pooh that has stuck with me for years: "When I do nothing, nothing gets not done." 

There is a comforting sort of zen contained there I think, which I hope will comfort me as I head back to a familiar routine tomorrow, already looking forward to the next break, whenever and wherever it might be.