Animals


Next stop on the Nova Scotia tour took us to Blomidon Look Off. The haze kept us from looking off at much but we did get to see an entrepreneur working the system the best he/she knew how. At this blip on the map there was the “Look In guest room,” the “Look & Put,” the “Look and Lick (ice cream of course),” the “Look and Eat” take out, and the “Look Around” gift shop. The only thing missing was the view. So mom and dad and I went up to the nearby national park and hiked a trail (a long, long trail) to another look off. Finding nothing we headed out for what really mattered—the CheeseHouse.

Another marketing ploy. I reasoned that the Foxhill CheeseHouse would offer us a tour of a cheese processing plant or a chance to milk a cow—something. Nope. But once she brought out the sampler tray all was forgiven. We bought lots of yummy Cheddar, Havarti, Gouda, and other stuff along with a loaf of delicious bread and went away from said Fromagerie happy campers.

Next stop was the Acadia Heritage site. This was a nice surprise in our quest for historical and cultural enlightenment. We learned all about the Acadians, a group of French people that settled Nova Scotia around the time the Pilgrims were claiming a rock in Massachusetts. These people built dykes to deal with the huge tides that drenched the land and were neutral in the continuous struggle between the European powers that were fighting over the land. In the mid 1700’s the British instituted an ethnic cleansing campaign and deported all the Acadians—many of whom suffered and died after their belongings and homes were taken and destroyed. Some of these people migrated to various regions, one of which was Louisiana where today they are called Cajuns. Sound familiar? It’s too bad the army corps of engineers didn’t learn how to build dykes like the Cajuns’ ancestors or maybe Katrina wouldn’t have destroyed the levies. Hmmmm.

While at the heritage site we went to a memorial church where Evangeline the cat sprawled out in the window sill allowing all of us to pet her if we wished. She is named Evangeline (just like my Aunt Vangie) after the Evangeline in the story by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Evidently her character represents the horror of the deportation and brought it out in the open for everyone to see and to remember. I bought a copy and will be reading it soon. Too bad we are still doing this kind of thing today.

Stay tuned as the adventure heads toward the tidal bore and my near drowning. Okay, I’m exaggerating but I did fall into the rushing waters of the Shubenacadia River. If you think you know how to pronounce it, I’ll give you a prize.

Usually spring doesn’t thrill me. The temperature is inconsistent, the weather is so-so, and my allergies cause my sinuses to inflame so much I want to rip my head off. But then there are times it’s refreshing. To get out of the house and be warm, to see the blossoming of flowers and trees, to feel the grass under my toes. That part is what I like.

Every spring I get flowers and plant them on my deck. I like the variety of colors decorating my house. Unfortunately my neighbors and I play host to a bunch of squirrels. I remember now writing about squirrels last spring and how I used to let the cats out to go chase them (cat vs. squirrel). But the other week my neighbor told me they got this owl for their deck that was supposed to keep the squirrels away.

I got really excited about this and went out to Home Depot to get me one. After filling the menacing plastic owl with rocks, I placed it on the deck railing. My other neighbors have done the same. So now three homes in a row (townhouses next to each other) all have plastic owls staring menacingly out the back. The people living across the common ground must think we are a bunch of trailer-park wannabees or part of some yard-sale-gone-mad cult.

All I know is that since Mr. Owl has been keeping a keen eye out, not one squirrel has been “spotted.” In fact, we’ve actually attracted a real owl. Yesterday my neighbor—who calls his Owl Greg—told me that “Greg got himself a real girlfriend.” Great for keeping squirrels away, but now my cat—who likes to dart out the door and then lounge on the next door neighbor’s deck—is potential dinner for Greg’s girlfriend.

Ahhh, the joys of spring. I wonder what I’ll learn next about plastic decoys and wildlife.

Last Monday I woke up and as usual the animals started to gather in my room and bathroom. When I saw Grendel wiggle in with a bone in his mouth I went into a major panic. Grendel looked like Rocky Balboa after he lost to the Russian. His face was swollen and I freaked thinking he must have eaten something weird and was having an allergic reaction. And since those can be fatal, I threw on some clothes, put my hair up in a pony tail and called the vet—I’m on my way!

Well aside from the fact that the doctor was cute and nice and I had no makeup on, things turned out okay. A week later Grendel had surgery to remove an abscessed tooth. Knowing how painful those things are, I have to hand it to the boo dog. He really handled it well.

So I picked him up from the vet after his surgery and he was still loopy from the anesthesia. As we walked to the house down the sidewalk, Grendel kept swerving and falling into the snow banks. (By the way, this was all very entertaining to me.) The doctor said he probably wouldn’t be hungry (to which I laughed) and said if he did feel like eating to give him half of what he normally would eat. Yeah, he went straight to the dish. I fed him and he stayed there for another hour staring at the dish and then back to me before I finally gave him more.

Then he stood in the living room staring at nothing for awhile. Then put his head on the couch wanting to get up but not able to until I helped him. So for those of you who are old enough to remember the egg frying anti-drug campaign…

This is my dog:

The swollen face

This is my dog on drugs:

Grendel is feeling no pain

Want to get up. Can't move.

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