Of Boston Terriers and Men
SPF 60! Apart from global unrest and uncertainty, it is a beautiful summer day on the Coast.
I am back at the Fox Den, having returned from an air-conditioned week dog sitting the infamous Boston Terrier CLARK. After several moves in the last few years, the regal pooch now finds himself patrolling the tree-lined streets of the picturesque Cambie Village. Home to a number of the city’s finest heritage homes, the neighbourhood also features scrumptious ice cream, flamenco dancing and more.
When CLARK’s parents planned a last-minute getaway to the Island, I put on my dog-sitting cap, packed my suitcase and moved in with the dapper lad for the week. Swinging open the front door to his home, I pumped my fist up in the air and proclaimed, “CLARK my good man! You have nothing to fear Rugged Fox is here!”
If this were a screenplay, the following moment would play out like this:
CUT TO:
INT. LIVING ROOM - COUCH
Ears erect, CLARK raises his head for approximately three seconds and then returns to sleep.
Devastated, RUGGED proceeds to the fridge and pops open a can of sparkling wine.
FADE OUT.
THE END.
It took some persuasion, but once the pooch finally came around, the two of us embarked on the gayest of old times. Staying six feet apart from any conversation involving politics, we passed the hours each afternoon, lazing on the front lawn and playing ring toss like the world was going to end. At night, we curled up on the couch, exchanged our deepest secrets, and watched “Phantom of the Opera” on the big screen.
Alas, when it was finally time to part ways, I wiped a tear from my eye and tossed the handsome man a Dentabone. Zipping up my suitcase, I sang “think of me, think of me fondly, CLARK, when we say goodbye!” Then I called a cab and returned home to the rainbow-painted streets of the West End whence I came.
“Zipping up my suitcase, I sang ‘think of me, think of me fondly, CLARK, when we say goodbye!’”
I must admit, apart from companionship and pure joy, my dog-sitting adventure also provided me with a welcome distraction from a certain you-know-who, Pandemic Pete. After numerous failed attempts at writing, mainly because I was staring passed the screen and on to the man across the back lane, I knew drastic measures had to be taken. The next morning I moved my writing desk away from the window in a conscientious effort to deprive my gaze of any opportunity to stray and/or linger.
The truth is, I cannot help the fact that Pandemic Pete does not believe in curtains any more than I can stop myself from looking fantastic in earth tones. But one must draw a blind at one point.
In other news, may I tell you, it is an especially curious time to be a server in a restaurant. With the dining room at half capacity, the greatest pairings these days to food and wine are health and safety. With masks now part of the uniform and temperature checks added to the list of opening duties, a typical dinner service requires one deep relaxing breath and 500,000 pumps of sanitizer. While I am grateful to work, I am also grateful for moisturizer.
Sweet Meryl we have so much to catch up on as always. I just started writing another fourteen paragraphs but could not finish one of them. The weather is so beautiful out, however, I must not keep you any longer! Looking at the time, I should also respond to that bottle of rosé that messaged me earlier. Some things never change.
I hope these words find you and your loved ones well!
Yours in red hair and wine,
RF.
