So Long, Farewell

The Foothills are alive with the sound of music

The upbeat lyrics from a The Sound of Music tune come to mind as we prepare to leave this house and pet sit in Okotoks, Alberta.

There’s a sad sort of buzz from the clock in our assigned bedroom combined with the barking of the two dogs in the back boot room. And from the floor of the bedroom, a squeaky shrill executes from the Yorkie. We rise up because there are chores to complete before the homeowners arrive.

Loading the Ural

The most physical and cumbersome task is to winch the bike onto the trailer. 

Frank sets up the parallel metal ramps as guides for the three tires. It’s a Ural sidecar motorbike and weighs about 800 pounds. 

On the first go, the ramp under the bike is too close to the edge of the trailer and the motor cannot get past the wooden barrier. So, the bike is released down the ramp and sits on the gravel driveway. 

The second attempt forces one of the pins on the pully system to break and profanity fills the air. Frank manages to crank the hoist without one of its pins as I guide the front tire up the ramp until the two back tires are on the trailer. With several pulls, tugs and the use of a wooden board as leverage, the bike is positioned into place.

Ural on trailer

I think of the little birds in that song and “cuckoo” comes to mind.

The indoor chores include washing the spare room bedding, then the dog blankets, clearing and cleaning the breakfast dishes, cleaning the refrigerator, wiping down kitchen appliances, letting the three dogs outside for one last ‘wee’, wiping twelve paws, vacuuming the carpets and wiping down the floors. We sit quietly afterward at the kitchen table and savour a cup of tea.

The owners arrive home to a frenzied welcome of barks, jumps, licks, frantic tail wagging, and circles. The pet owners are as enthusiastic about seeing their darlings as are the dogs.

We debrief with the wonderful homeowners and assure them that there were no issues with the three dogs or the property. We exchange hugs and handshakes and walk out the front door. Once inside Big White, we motor on to our next overnight location –  a roadside pullover.

So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good night,

 we hate to go and leave this pretty sight.

We sat this geodesic dome home and dogs

It's All About Ms. M

Moxie ready for her walk

“The little one’s name is Moxie. She was in heat but we think that’s passed,” the owner says. I pet the trembling Yorkshire Terrier. “This one is Biscuit and that one is Clifford.” The owner points to two relatively calm Staffordshire Terriers.

Little Ms. M is held by the owner and kissed over and over. When her owner needs to do something with both hands she passes the little dog onto another member of the family. In the meantime, the older of the two Staffies, Biscuit, licks my legs and ankles incessantly. My skin is exposed because I’m sporting shorts today. I push her away and the owners looked surprised. 

"That's how she greets people," the owner says.

I can tell by the looks on their faces they don’t like my redirecting the compulsive behaviour of their large dog. Conflicted by my gentle nudge, Ms. B takes to licking my husband’s legs; he’s wearing his kilt.
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For the time being, the younger of the Staffies is distracted by our presence and shows no attention to the little dog held securely by the owner.

Ms. M on the dog bed with Biscuit in background

Moxie and Clifford

We are given a written general outline of their pet's habits and are asked if we have any questions. We come up with only one; “Are you expecting any trades workers to come to the house while you’re away?” They explain about the possibility of a cable tech coming by but tell us not to worry.

The homeowners leave and in their absence the prominent activity is keeping the big male dog away from the little female doggie. He follows her relentlessly, trying to mount her, mounting her and causing her to squeal. We phone the owners to let them know about the dog on dog activity and they recommend that we isolate the male to the back boot room. His howls are long and loud.

A dog is a dog when it’s near a female in heat.

Life Is A Gamble

First, you see it. A lit cigarette hangs from a man’s mouth. He removes it with one hand and stuffs a few fries into this opening with the other. Next, you smell it. The unique aroma of tobacco. Then, you taste it. A thick cloud of expelled smoke from deep inside this stranger’s lungs swirls, almost purposefully, into your nostrils and lingers in the back of your throat. You cough it away as best you can. It’s futile. It lingers.

Stoney Nakoda Resort & Casino

Stoney Nakoda Resort & Casino sits comfortably on the Stoney reserve at the convenient intersection of Highway 16 East and 40 South; a long road through Kananaskis Country. We’ve chosen to settle here in our RV for the night with permission from the front desk clerk. We consider having our evening meal at the lounge but are told by security that it is a smoking-permitted café. 

First, you see it. Paper hand towels crumpled and strewn around the garbage can near the sinks. Next, you smell it. Contents left in the toilet bowl. You flush. It’s futile. It lingers. Afterwards, you approach the woman at the front reception and inform her that the ladies’ room is in need of attention. You smile.

Life is a gamble. Play the hand you are dealt.