Sad news from Whistler, BC

 

Only a few hours ago, I received an emotional call from my mother. A news report was playing on the radio detailing the massacre of 100 sled dogs belonging to a Whistler company, Howling Dog Adventure Tours. The animals were culled due to an economic downturn after the Olympics, and evidence of the killings was only brought to light after the man who performed the shootings filed for worker's compensation due to post-traumatic stress. There is outrage in the media, in the news. The SPCA is everywhere, and people are calling for an blanket ban of sled dog tours. My landlady is of the belief that these killings should be treated just as human murders are.

My initial reaction was one of shock and horror at what these dogs went through, and I still feel that way. But this is also mixed with a healthy dose of worry for those companies in the Whistler area who treat their dogs well and will be slammed by bad press and media. I have friends who worked for the now-defunct Whistler Dogsledding Company and have since moved on to guide with other businesses operating out of the area. 5 of my own dogs are now running for Revelstoke Dogsled Adventures, and I could not be happier with where they are living.

Stories like this crop up periodically in many animal-related aspects, and they are extremely charged events, both politically and socially. Simply put, they inspire great emotion. I don't want to get into an argument about animal rights; conversations like that generally turn into a lose-lose situation. I do urge you, however, to take the larger issue surrounding this story with a grain of salt. The core events were shocking and are heavily condoned by the mushing community. Does that mean that all tour businesses treat their animals this way and should be shut down immediately? Of course not.

The dog at the top of the page is Lily, who was my lead dog for about 3 years. She is now spending her retirement in Revelstoke with Oreo, Chevy, Emily, and Chaos. Lily had an identical sister named Blossom, whom I loved very much. When Blossom was 5, she developed a severe case of gastric dilatation. Her stomach swelled up like a balloon, and we rushed her to the nearest on-call vet in Prince George, over two hours away. After two days of treatment, and many barium x-ray slides later, there had been no improvement and I made the decision to euthanize. There was not a dry eye in the place, and I had nightmares for weeks afterwards. Plenty of mushers would have afforded the exact same care to their animal in a similar circumstance.

Beneath everything, all of the media hype and heartbreak and debate, there are two central truths to this sport. First off, mushers care about their dogs. Otherwise they would not do it. No one-and I repeat-no one, gets rich off running dogs. And secondly, the dogs love to run. They live for it, I can promise you.

I miss them everyday.

Not perfect, but pretty darn good nevertheless

 

Happy Monday, everyone. Guess who missed her first class again and ended up being late for her second one, like a total, complete idiot? And of course we were having a guest speaker today, and showing up late to interrupt his opening remarks is probably about the rudest thing that I could have done. I could practically hear my mom berating me. And the presenter was a super interesting guy, who took us through an analysis of an older Canadian census and used it as an example of a quantitative primary resource.

Right now, life is chocolate cake and sunshine. My landlady baked a batch of cookies and stuck them in the freezer for me to replace the banana bread that her dog stole, which was both unexpected and pleasant. People can surprise you.

On the school front, I have three books to read and two reports. And a midterm tomorrow. Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh...   

I'm moving past the feelin'

Hmmm. Every time I check the UVic website for assignments and midterms I'm supposed to be doing, I have a minor heart attack. AB is rocking out to Teenage Dream and spilling salad everywhere. Went up Mt. Wells today, and I swear it took half the time that it did before, but that's probably because I knew what to expect. Sometimes I think that it may be preferable to hike alone, with a faithful dog or something. That way, you can stop whenever you want and have the company of a furry friend to distract and entertain.


I can feel the love in this house right now. Too intense for me. 

They're Nazi zombies. That's what makes it morally ok.

I totally used to do this.

At our friend's place right now, watching WS and his friend K destroy legions of walking dead and devour two pizzas (with cheesy bread as an extra!). Myself, I'm exhausted. Probably the effects of eating too much chocolate at work and reading about toxic plants all afternoon. Did you know that garlic and tulips are in the same family as lilies? Learn something new every day.


Also just watched Toy Story Three, which is probably about the sweetest movie ever. It must be kind of hard on Pixar, having to produce a masterpiece every time. I don't think they've ever made a true failure.


Not much else to say, except for hiking tomorrow and a flamenco guitar concert. Good times, except that I am so far behind on homework that it's not even funny.

Warping my sense of reality

Last year, I must have bought an issue of Cosmo magazine that got shoved to the back of my suitcase. Yesterday I flipped through it and was actually kind of disgruntled. Most of those columns offer up terrible advice. And what is it with "Harley, 25" and "Salvador, 30"? Where are they finding these guys, anyway? I have never, ever met anyone named Salvador.


Hey, I have a question. What makes a person driven? Do you think it's an inherent trait that you're born with, or the product of how you grew up? Or a combination of both? And if you have to think about it, does that mean that you're probably not a very driven person yourself? Questions, questions.

"Fuck the future. We've got to fight to the ends of the fuckin' earth, man. To the end of the fuckin' earth." -Cook

We gotta hold on to what we've got, it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not

Oh hey, Mr. Harper. Didn't see you there.


Finally back home. I'm feeling a little shell-shocked. My bunny is comfy-cozy and enjoying her free time after being cooped up for so long. She had plenty of food and water, though, don't worry (I did come back to feed her). She's celebrating my return by chewing on the various electrical cords that are laying around the room when I'm not looking. Wonderful.


Weird, bizarre, surreal week. Instead of attending this morning's Canadian History lecture (ahem), ER and I visited a little coffee shop that makes excellent peach-raspberry-cornbread muffins. Cornbread is next on the list of Stuff to Make. 


Bon Jovi and I are having some quality bonding time this afternoon while I continue slugging it out with the War of 1812. Nice.

Stop making those decisions right now, ya hear me?

Waiting for a three-hour lecture to start is maybe even more painful than the actual lecture is. My Writing course starts in about 57mins, and the prof is a bearded man who projects a sharp kind of of intelligence. I've caught some errors that he's made in lectures, though. Last Tuesday he said that all predators had eyes with slitted pupils, like cats, and that humans were the only ones who didn't. But that's not true at all. What about hawks? And bears? What he should have said is that predators usually have eye sockets set forwards in their skull, and that prey animals have sideways sockets, for peripheral vision. So hah.

Yesterday AB, ER and I went to a little coffee shop to "study", and AB started reading out a quiz to ER that was supposed to be able to reveal how well her sense of self-identity was cultivated. And I was half-listening and realized that I couldn't answer an affirmative 'yes' to a lot of the questions. It's been preying on my mind ever since.

I think I need to quit moving around and stay somewhere solid for awhile. I'm always tired, even if I sleep like the dead.  

And all I need out of life are cookies, tea, socks, and the occasional hug

Sorry for the melodramatic photo today. Bizarre-ness all over the place. I'm happy and sad all at the same time; this was the wierdest Sunday ever.


We're sitting at the counter right now. SC, you are listening to strange rap music and ER is trying to act aloof but is secretly interested. I need to head home and have a shower and change and do some studying, but don't want to face the 20-min walk downtown. How lazy is that?


For some reason, I was watching the patterns of a tree outside against the grey sky and was reminded of a pattern colouring we used to do in elementary school. You would draw a bunch of random squiggles on a piece of paper and try to colour in each space so that no similar shades overlap. In Grade 1, I was never able to do it properly, and it really bothered me. I know I could do it now, but there are some things that you just can't travel back in time and repeat.

Good luck on your job interview, ER. I'll be rooting for ya. 

One of the best books ever

Even though I'm sure I missed a lot of the subtleties in his writing.


Hum. Today has been alright. Turns out KG has wrecked her back struggling to lift up a big dog, so I'll be working tomorrow morning, at least. Which is ok. I actually love working on Sundays. People are relaxed and happy, and I do a lot of lab work and run around eating other people's food and being a pest. And I get paid. Good deal.


I had a lot of stuff to say, but now I can't think of anything. And I need to go take a bath and shave my legs, for a change. Too much info? That's alright. You'll get used to it.


By the way, ER, I am utterly, truly, completely addicted to Skins. I will start drinking hard liquor in strange places and develop a British accent. And say what I mean at all times and start doing drugs and camping in the woods and be forever trapped in a melancholy state. And I'll have you to blame.

I got hot, I got dance, I got rockin' electronics

 

I kinda want this girl's eyes.

Just killing time tonight until I feel like going to the kitchen and making fish cakes. Which are apparently a little harder than I originally thought they would be. My bunny is stretched out from one end of her cage to the other, just chillin'. And there is not too much exciting news, you know, just schoolwork and cleaning up the room and cooking tonight, for a change. And making up stories on the bus, and listening to conversations between an Asian girl and a guy with a scruffy blond beard. She was talking about the new diet she's on, and how she had had a protein shake or something for breakfast, and he was telling her that if she just took up rowing she would get enough exercise to eat anything she wanted. Which is probably true.

Hey, ever had that feeling when you're in a grocery store or something, when you look up and lock eyes with a stranger for a half-second, and you wonder if they'll ever mean anything in your life. Like, maybe that small lady with the white hair has the potential to be your best friend, or maybe she was a rock climber in Italy when she was younger, or maybe the Wayne Gretzky look-alike in the bread department will be the next Bill Gates. And you make a habit of buying bread there every week and the two of you laugh and maybe later you become good friends and write each other letters and he shows up on your doorstep seven years later wearing a cowboy hat and a huge smile. And you kiss him on the cheek and the two of you take a walk on the beach and talk about the lives you have been living.

I do this all the time.

Something's wrong

 

Hey, guys. So, I know I haven't been posting as often as I usually do. And to be honest, I doubt that many people are reading this stuff anyway. But that's alright.

I haven't slept at home for a couple of days. And have not had any interest in cooking. Or eating (though I did have some Shepherd's Pie today which was pretty darn good). Energy is at a minimum. 

The comic above is your monthly fill of Natalie Dee. Enjoy her.

I met a guy in English today called Ammer (spelled the way he pronounced it). He is a hilarious East Indian guy with a bad beard and a quick smile. And an awkward guy named Alec, and a quiet, super smart tiny Asian girl named Kristen. I love that class.

I'm writing this at home with the windows open, which is Not Allowed. This is one of the things that I miss the most about living at home. There were probably only a handful of times I had to close the windows while I was sleeping, even during periods of 20 below. And suddenly, in a much warmer climate, it's unacceptable. It's the small victories, I guess.

The way I'm livin', it's gonna cause my heart to ache, 'cause all the money I had is gone

I have a story to tell you. There are audiotapes online that feature a Cree man from Ontario named Louis Bird, who decided to present an oral history of his people before facts he considered vital to their culture are lost. Near the end of the tapes, he talks about Shamanism and the source of their "magic". And he says (I think I may have heard something about this before) that this power is actually due to the fact that these medicine men have developed, or perhaps heightened, extra senses. Like the sense of smell and touch, except these senses include a heightened sense of danger, or an intuition of some sort, the ability to see visions in their sleep that may help them to avoid harmful situations, being able to tell when a loved one is in danger, be they near or far, and a sense of direction. The link to the tapes is below; they're well worth a listen.


http://www.ourvoices.ca/index/ourvoices-story-action/id.0028

That movie was so good I don't have to read the book

Sorry, I know that this is my second post today, but I'm a little upset and just thought I'd get it out there. Y'know? I'm at SL's place right now, and I was just finishing up my resume to apply for the previously aforementioned job. And, I dunno, I was so excited that I told them what I was up to. Anyway, instead of being interested, or offering congratulations, S wrinkled her brow and pursed her lips and asked if I had had any experience with this kind of work. I guess I didn't explain very well that it was university student stuff, but even then, I was frustrated. She didn't say anything positive at all. Before I came to Victoria, I was out in the bush all the time, and actually had a very different life. Maybe she just doesn't realize that? And...anyway. Whatever. Shouldn't really be complaining about it on so public a forum, anyway.


But the story that I really wanted to tell was that I was locked in my landlady's bathroom for a good 20 minutes today. Which was weirdly similar to my little stint in the shed at work. Hmmmm...


Going to see the Bicycle Thief tonight with SS and FM. Should be good.

Oh yeah! Whatever happened to that guy, anyway?

 

So I'm at ER's house right now, eating her roommate's fruit and yogurt. And we are listening to music which is surprisingly good, considering that the two of us don't always share similar tastes in tunes. We have 45mins or so before we have to leave for school and I'm trying to get my resume up to snuff.

Yeah, that's a bit of exciting news. Guess what? I'm applying for a summer job in the Yukon! It's at a mine site halfway between Inuvik and Whitehorse, and probably involves a lot of packing rocks, sweat, and mosquitoes. I'm a little scared that, if I do end up landing the job, I won't be able to handle it. University has instilled in me a deep-seated sense of failure, and it's beginning to become a problem. But I'm kind of getting ahead of myself. It's exciting, anyway.

I do not like Venn diagrams or green eggs and ham

Yesterday was a day full of promise, and today has been a day of slothfulness. I went to the house of an old family friend after work and had a delicious dinner. A full three-course meal with crab cake appetizers, a main entree of braised pork belly, polenta and steamed chard, and a dessert of individual chocolate sludge cakes drowned in whipped cream, accompanied by cocktails before hand, a strong red wine, and coffee afterward. Not your typical university meal, for sure. The house itself has undergone some recent renovations and now combines a modern feel with fireplace comfort. Eric, who owns the house, has a senior position in the now-imploding Ministry of Environment and has done a ton of research on wolverines. He explained how the current government has slashed positions and orchestrated some incredibly disruptive reorganizations within MOE within the past couple of months. Apparently, the Forest Service, which is an internationally renowned Ministry for the strong emphasis on research that it's maintained, is virtually defunct. I don't know enough about the recent cutbacks to form my own educated opinion on the issue, but Eric seems philosophically accepting about the whole situation, as well as being understandably frustrated. I respect and admire Eric a lot, so if he thinks that the changes warrant being worried, it may be a wise idea to follow his example.

But, yes. I had a bad case of heartburn last night which I suspect may have been food poisoning. I ended up sleeping propped up in bed because I was prone to throwing up if I lay down.

I just heard about an artist named Joe Average on the radio. That can't be a real name. I'm just killing time until The Vinyl Cafe comes on. I desperately feel the need for a Dave & Morley story this morning.

I never know what's going on with you and it's making me mad

Life is actually pretty darn good right now. MY DOG CAME BACK, classes are good, friends are good. Incessant rain and boyfriends are not good. Jeeze.


I had a lot of stuff that I wanted to write about, but now I can't remember what any of it was. And I really need to pee. So I'll just sign off here and hope that you are doing well in your life.

I posted something accidentally and can't for the life of me figure out how to delete this

For every time the sun goes up over the heavens

Hey, everyone. I'm just stuck at YVR right now, waiting for a bus with space on it that will transport me back to Victoria. I just had an interesting conversation with an older couple from Georgia, who explained to me exactly how their accents were much more precise and easier to understand than Southern Georgian accents. Apparently, I have a very accentless voice, which I would laugh at, but people have told me this before. However, when I'm nervous or uncomfortable, my voice takes on a distinctly British lit. Go figure. Anyway, she is an "old nurse" and he has a degree in technical engineering, but currently designs medical software. Whew.


The makeup of my travel bag when I left Victoria was mostly clothes and Christmas presents. Now it seems to be comprised mainly of alcohol and cookbooks, which is alright too.


My spacebar is sticking, and allthewordsthatItypekeeprunningtogether. Still no luck in locating Butch.

Please come back, Butch

My dog is missing. This is a hell of a way to ring in the New Year. The biggest fear, and probably most likely scenario, is that he has crawled off somewhere and quietly passed away. He's a big, 14-year old dog who's been battling cancer for over a year. I looked for him last night, but haven't gone out yet this morning. I almost don't want to be the one to find him if he's not alive anymore.


Shit.

Happy New Year