This Spring

You know that smell of freshly cut grass, eagerly blooming wildflowers and charcoal barbecques? That smell makes me so happy. I've lived in the same house for about 12 years now and each May I smile to myself when I finally get a hint of the wildflowers that grow around my neighbourhood.

After some really un-scientific (meaning I looked around and took a guess) research, I've nailed down that glorious flower smell to the loads of purple flowers that blanket the hills nearby. Each year, they signal spring and the impending June heat waves that hit the greater Toronto area when summer finally arrives.

Tonight I got home from work and was eager to get right back outside. I made a bit of rice, tossed some red pacific sockeye salmon in with it and nuked the leftover squash my Dad made. I wanted something fast, but thought better of just having Raisin Bran for supper. At my age, I really should know better.

After dinner, I ripped off my corporate costume, slapped my hair into a ponytail, threw on my university trackpants and grabbed the two little dogs for a walk. Roxy has to ease off the exercise because of a luxating patella - code for bloody expensive - so she stayed home with Baby Sister (Chandler).

Before I was at the end of my driveway, I was wishing I were alone with my thoughts for a long run. No solitude for me however. I have abandonment issues when it comes to my dogs. I can't leave them alone or I feel terribly guilty. So, instead of going for a run alone, I walk at a steady pace while Gigi and Lily trot along. Well, Lily tries to be the alpha dog, which is sort of funny since she's a bichon-poodle cross and the fluffiest little white dog you've ever seen. Plus, she's a huge flirt. I swear she's determined to get a boyfriend each time we leave the house. When I imagine her voice, it's a cross between Marilyn Monroe and Minnie Mouse. "Why Mr. Golden Lab, you're awfully frisky. Why don't you come over here and use some manners to introduce yourself? Afterall, I'm a lady." All the while, Lily will be batting her lashes and twirling her tail, while gazing up with her head slightly tilted to the side. If dogs went to high school, Lily would be the captain of the cheerleading squad.

Gigi is a bit different. She's a bit more like me than I'd prefer to admit. When she growls at people, I feel like saying to her, "You know what? If strangers stopped to touch me on the street, I'd be pissed too! Don't people have boundaries?" Gigi doesn't play games. She's either in a great mood and wants to snuggle, or she's had enough and wants affection only on her terms. The similarities between us in that respect are astounding. I'm not much of a cuddler, unless I'm the one initiating the cuddling. If you envelope me in a bear hug I'm likely to get irritated and pissy...and I'll probably think you're a pain in the ass for haning off of my like some sort of chimp. Gigi is the shrew. She's a heinous bitch when she wants to be, but has the biggest heart underneath it all. She'd throw herself to a pack of fierce and hungry lions if she thought she could save me in the process. I have no doubt about that at all.

Roxy is, well Roxy is special. She's timid, she's a hefty size and we have NO idea what breeds of dogs stumbled upon each other one night to create our little love child. If Roxy could talk, she would sound like Eeyore. She's such an angel, but has a lot of fears and she looks at you with these eyes that could coax axe-murderers into donating a fortune to animal charities. People often ask us if she was rescued from an abusive home. Nope, not this girl. She's just skittish and loving and protective and obedient and sweet and has a personality I'll never forget.

You know, I'm just thinking about this blog and wondering if I'm "doing" it right. I mean, I started out with one topic this evening and quickly let my furry babies take over. That's okay with me though. If you knew me, you'd know that my dogs are three of the most important things in my universe. They make me smile each and every day and even when I want to muzzle them for barking, one of them will look at me and lick my cheek and all is forgiven.

Sleep tight bloggies, Miss Major