Not So Private Poop

It has been five and a half months since I last wrote on my blog.  I may have to change it's title to something more appropriate that reflects the whimsical way in which I ply this hobby.  How about "Jim's Stories - Don't Hold Your Breath Waiting"; or maybe "Tales So Private that I Didn't Write Them".  Maybe I'll just stick to the title I already have.  After all, it's what my readers have grown to know and appreciate.  By the way, thanks so much for the surprising number of inquiries as to where my stories had gone and when I'd get back to pounding the computer keys.  I'm humbled.  Imagine how I'd feel if four people had asked!

I should update you on a few of the important things that have happened during these months of my hibernation.

My last story was about my dog, Jasper, and how we suspected he had gone off to die.  We last saw Jasper on December 23rd.  Well, about a month ago, Jasper's skeletal remains were found in the woods very close to our house.  It was comforting to know he was nearby during his last hours and minutes and that he could probably see and hear those who loved him most.  I buried him not far from where he was found.  His grave is adorned with many of the very same rocks that we used to play fetch with him.  Of all of the pets we've owned, Jasper is the only one buried on our property (unless you count the many goldfish that are somewhere in our septic field).  We have Ruby now.  She actually came to us from the pound last September.  She's a wonderful dog and has fit into our family quite nicely.  We have discovered that Avery is very often distracted by Ruby's cuteness.  Sure Ruby is great, but I will always have a soft spot for Jasper, the big guy.

In February I started working, actually working where I get a pay check. It's June and I'm still there!  As many of you know, my track record for sustained employment hasn't been very sterling since leaving the RCMP in October, 2010.  I had 10 days at Costco and 4 weeks at a provincial government job before I decided that neither of these jobs was for me.  Coaching hockey, basketball, chess and most recently, baseball, are great but always result in a net loss to the bank account.  Cod fishing is unbelievable and I can't do that often enough.  Catching 5 fish a day for 3 or 4 weeks isn't about to make anyone rich.  It's probably illegal to sell them anyway, as it's a "recreational" fishery.  I also think I enjoy giving the fresh fillets, tongues and cheeks away as much as catching them.  I can't wait to surprise Mrs. Roche with a feed or two of fish in a couple of weeks.  Oh yeah.......I began to tell you about my job.  I'm working with the engineering company where my two brothers have worked for years.  I guess maybe I had an in to this job but I'm well suited to what they have me doing too.  My boss is actually my long time friend, builder of my house, the one who have me my first wedgie and introduced me to bingo at The Star and A. Frank Willis.  There's a lot more to add about Bud, but that's a story for another day.  So far, so good at Acuren.  I like when my hands are busy, as it keeps my mind from wandering off to places where it shouldn't go.  As a cop, on several occasions I had to pick narcotics out of human faeces.  So far, nothing I've experienced at Acuren has been nearly as crappy.  I guess I'll stick around there for a while longer.

My family is my priority in life.  My kids are my passion.  Kendall will be a teenager next month.  I know she is ready, I'm just not sure I am!  She continues to be in love with her competitive swimming.  As I'm waking her three times a week at 4:45 a.m., I often give her the choice of staying in bed or getting up for practice.  She never misses.  Last weekend, at a provincial meet, she won 5 individual gold medals and 2 silvers, as well as 2 more golds in the team relay.  In addition to being proud of her, I'm learning first hand what true dedication and hard work can accomplish.  Avery will be 11 next month.  She is so smart, funny and well rounded.  She's my Gilligan and fishing buddy.  This year I'm hoping she'll learn to gut the cod fry up a feed of tongues for Grammie.  Avery can best the entire Nixon clan in any computer gaming challenge and she's great at getting the #1 answer for any question on Family Feud.  I'm off now to coach Avery's team in our second game of baseball.  During yesterday's game, Avery was doubled off of first base when she ran on a pop fly.  She asked me why she was out and I explained the rule.  She listened intently and understood, never to make that mistake again, I'm sure.  She did say that it was my fault as I hadn't told her that rule. I may not have taught her all of the rules of baseball, but it seems I've done a fairly good job of teaching her to speak up for herself. Did I already tell you that she's only 11!  I'm surrounded at home by women - from kids to Grammie and Lynda somewhere in between.  Perhaps having picked dope from poo won't seem so bad after all a few years from now.

Stay tuned for more intrigue and adventure.  I'm just not sure when that will be.

Jim - The Not So Private I

A Big Broken Heart

My dog, Jasper, is gone.  I miss him.  At only five years old, he should have been in the prime of his life.  That all changed two years ago when we discovered that he had congestive heart failure.  I don't believe dogs know that they are sick, certainly not in the same way that we humans do.  What is clear, is that Jasper understood that he was slowing down.  Over the last few months, he began to lag further and further behind on his walks.  A few week ago, he sent me a silent message when, for the first time, he chose to remain on the deck and watch me and his recently adopted canine sister, Ruby, trek off into the woods.  I kept looking behind to see if his black bear like figure would come lumbering through the trees and I stopped way more than normal to throw a stick for Ruby, but we remained alone.

Jasper's heart failed him.  It's somewhat ironic that everyone who came to know him found a place for him in their hearts.  Gentle and patient, he was one in a million.  When he arrived in our lives from the pound it was his first birthday.  Neighbourhood kids, who were previously leery of dogs, found a friend in Jasper and a new understanding that dogs can be trustworthy.  This despite the fact that Jasper was twice the size of these kids.

Jasper lived at our house but he really belonged to the neighbourhood.  It was not uncommon for him to make occasional visits to the homes of many of our rural neighbours.  Lynda and I would often learn of such visits after the fact and often by accident.  I think the neighbours were afraid that we'd tie Jasper on and they'd miss the chance to share him.  We'd learn that Jasper routine went to visit for a half hour or so, have a treat or two and to curl up on their kitchen floors.  Then, on his own, he'd ask to be let out and then head back home or on to say hello to another friend.

Jasper loved rocks, probably more than just about anything else.  He learned that from a few years of palling around with my brother's golden retriever, Jack, who passed away earlier this year.  Jasper took what he learned from Jack and went bigger.  Bigger in a sense that Jasper's preferred rocks were boulders.  Many of the ones he carried in his mouth on walks or lovingly licked were as big as his gigantic head.  Only a dog of extreme intelligence would select a treat that was so plentiful and inexpensive.

As much as he loved rocks, Jasper hated moose.  Just the mere mention of the word was enough to send him into a fit.  I think his disdain for Bullwinkle and friends was more of a learned thing than it was instinctual.  Jasper hadn't been with us very long when he encountered a young moose in the back yard.  He ran up to investigate.  His instincts told him to approach from behind, as surely such a big dog would have huge teeth.  Mr. Moose was not impressed by Jasper's stealth nor worried enough to run back into the woods.  What he did do was unleash a rear legged kick that literally grazed the side of Jasper's head.  As I watched, speechless, Jasper bolted back the way he came, tail between his legs, and ran right into the secure confines of his dog house.  Since that day, Jasper has had one on one discussions with many moose.  He never again got close to those long hind legs.  I guess he realized that they pack quite a bite.

Last Saturday, Jasper was with me in the yard as I was burning some brush.  He was noticeably frail, but he still had enough energy to ask that I throw a smallish rock a few times for him to retrieve.  When I finished up that afternoon, Jasper was nowhere to be seen, which is not unusual.  I became worried when he didn't come home that night, as that never happened before.  Lynda and I searched the surrounding woods, but to no avail.  I awoke early Sunday morning and still no sign of him.  It was a brutal weather day, with cold rain being driven by strong winds off the ocean.  I looked out the window and could not hold back the tears.  I asked out loud to no one, "Jasper, where are you?".  A few minutes later I was putting on my rain clothes when mom called up from downstairs.  Jasper was at her door.  Lynda and I ran down to find one very wet and sickly dog.  We hugged him, dried him, and hugged him some more.  I even managed to give him his heart medication, although for the first time he fought me as I tried to do so.  Lynda and I tried to get him to eat, but he wouldn't.  We tried to get him to lie down on his bed, but he wouldn't.  Jasper asked to go outside.  He stood in front of the house for a few minutes, with Lynda keeping watch.  Suddenly, he was gone.  We haven't seen him since.  I am so thankful for those few extra minutes he gave us on Sunday morning.  For whatever reason, I no longer worried about him after that.

Jasper died as he lived - with grace and dignity.  I had planned to take him to the vet on Monday, Christmas Eve, for a final needle.  I'm not sure if I could have gone through with it.  Jasper spared me from having to make that decision.  From what I have read, it is not unusual for some dogs to go away to die.  They see themselves as being a burden to the pack.  As they no longer contribute to the pack, they realize that the best thing is to go away.

Lynda and I continue to search for Jasper.  We know he is dead, but we just would like to know where he chose to go.  I believe I will eventually find his last resting place.  It's sure to be by the biggest rock he could find.

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Update: June, 2013:

My last story was about my dog, Jasper, and how we suspected he had gone off to die.  We last saw Jasper on December 23rd.  Well, about a month ago, Jasper's skeletal remains were found in the woods very close to our house.  It was comforting to know he was nearby during his last hours and minutes and that he could probably see and hear those who loved him most.  I buried him not far from where he was found.  His grave is adorned with many of the very same rocks that we used to play fetch with him.  Of all of the pets we've owned, Jasper is the only one buried on our property (unless you count the many goldfish that are somewhere in our septic field).  We have Ruby now.  She actually came to us from the pound last September.  She's a wonderful dog and has fit into our family quite nicely.  We have discovered that Avery is very often distracted by Ruby's cuteness.  Sure Ruby is great, but I will always have a soft spot for Jasper, the big guy.

Blowing the Whistle on the WMC

I had one of those stereotypical useless husband type days on Monday.  That's what Lynda would call them anyway.  I just kept losing things.  I would have lost my head if it wasn't screwed on.  I had been doing so well too.  Lynda had been out of town since last Wednesday - she went to Montreal to watch Kendall at a swim meet - and I had managed to keep the dogs alive, get Avery to school every day, and most importantly, I hadn't dirtied the house up too much. That was Lynda's last command... I mean wish, before she left for the airport.

Okay, I have to confess that I had to call in reinforcements.  I summoned Nanny West to provide logistical and moral support during the time that her daughter would be away.  Meanwhile, if Nanny was to do a few loads of laundry, wash a scattered dish here or there, or whip up a miracle or two in the kitchen, then who was I to complain?  I'm just the father of her two beautiful granddaughters and the man who has given over half of his life to making her daughter's life so blissful.  Nanny didn't have to help out (but I knew she would).

I'll get back to the gist of this story in a moment.  I began to tell you about how I had lost a few things on Monday.  Before I do, I need to tell you about one other thing that went missing on Saturday......Nanny.  I was nice enough to give her the evening off, so she could go line dancing, and I never saw her again.  What's up with that?!  Sure, we had a few flurries, but it was just a measly 15 centimetres.  Nanny said she is afraid to drive down to our house when it snows because there are so many hills, cliffs, an ocean, no street lights, and poor ploughing.  What a wimp!  Our house is situated on the side of a mountain and has a long, steep driveway, but when I designed it, I specifically added a "Nanny Only" parking area at the bottom.  Suddenly, when she finally has a chance to use it, she opts to stay out in town.  Some gratitude!  I even ended up having to shovel the step myself.  Nanny, you are fired!  At least until the next time Lynda leaves town.

Wives and mothers seem to have built in homing devices, along with some type of special radar.  I'm certain of that.  That's the only way to explain how it is that Lynda knows exactly where it is that me and the kids have left our stuff.  Keys, hats, boots, wallets, Ipods, smart phones, and school bags all find their way to that place called "Idonno".  Lynda will always ask us where we left whatever it is that is missing and our answer is always "Idonno".  Armed only with that information, Lynda meanders to some strategic place in the house and always finds our missing item.  My mom possesses the same mystic ability.  I'm beginning to wonder if it's a conspiracy of sorts, that wives and mothers learn to maintain a strategic hold over husbands and kids by hiding this stuff and becoming the only ones who can find it.

It's all beginning to make sense to me now.  So, on Monday, when I couldn't find my coach's whistle for the power skating session I was teaching and when my Amex card never made its way back into my wallet after a trip to Costco, it had to be Lynda who hid them.  Hmmmm......my theory has a glitch.  Lynda was in Montreal, happily speeding through the shops of the city on a quest to find the bargain of a lifetime.  Unlike me, I'm pretty sure she had a good idea exactly where her credit card was.

Perhaps I need to take my theory a little bit further.  Sure, Lynda had a perfect alibi, but what if she had a partner in crime?  Nanny.....it had to be her.  She had to be the woman who hid my whistle and credit card..  That explains why she flew the coop on Saturday.  Line dancing and fearing for her life were just clever cover stories.  They thought they could fool me by diverting any suspicion from Lynda.  I'm on to both of you.

It all makes sense to me now.  Wives and mothers of the world are one big syndicate, working in consort to keep all children and men (who are just big children, after all) under their influence.   They figure as long as we need them to find our things, they'll be the ones to dictate when, where and how things get done.

Very clever, but the jig's up.  It's time for the children of the world, big and small, to unite against the WMC (Wives and Mothers Coalition).  I must spread the word.  I have to let my buddies know so that we can win our independence.  No longer will hockey skates go missing just before Saturday night shinny.  The TV clicker won't disappear on football Sunday's, only to reappear just in time for the Sunday night tear jerker.  Men must take their rightful place as the dominant sex.

Damn! I can't find my smart phone.  I can't call the guys because all of their contact info is in that phone. If Lynda thinks I'm going to stoop low and bow down to her by asking where my smart phone is, she has another thing coming.  I'll fool her.  I'll play it cool.  I'm not even going to pretend that I've lost my smart phone.  I'll get the last laugh...I'll do the manly thing.....I'm going to play dumb.