Never a better time to have a dog

Anyone that knows me, knows that I am absolutely in love with my dog. And I am grateful for his companionship each and every day.

Last year when I sustained a concussion and couldn’t read, couldn’t spend time on the computer; my dog was a great distraction.

I learned then, what many will be learning now in the age of social distancing, there’s never been a better time to own a dog.

There is the obvious and most commonly touted benefit of companionship. My dog is always keen to sit with me, always wants to be near me. And when I am home all the time, as I am now, he finally has as much ‘me’ time as he wants. Which is every minute of the day.

And there is the need to keep active and go outside when you have a dog. No matter how dull you feel from social isolation, the dog will make sure you get outside at least five times a day. And probably get some exercise.

We haven’t been on many walks lately due to the salt on the street and sidewalks, but we have some great games of ball in the back yard—so much so my pitching arm is sore in the mornings.

A dog keeps you regular too. Not the bran and prunes type of regular, but the get-up-in-the-morning type. My dog can only stay inside so long after the sun rises—it’s his signal to get up and get outside. If I’m lazy, his whimpering gets me up and at ‘em quickly. Thankfully, he usually can wait until I get the coffee going.

My dog is sitting next to me now as I write this, keeping company on a quiet morning. We’ve been out, enjoyed the calm, crisp morning and are ready to face the day together.

The Ides of March

I’ve always loved this day, the Ides of March, and look forward to it every year. And while the Ides of March is culturally in the same superstitious pantheon as Friday the 13^th and black cats, I love it because it reminds me of my grandfather.

My grandpa Haley never failed to take note of this date, commented on the need to take care and advised people to be wary on March 15. It was many years before I knew the connection between Julius Caesar and the Ides of March, for me it was always a connection to my grandfather, not an ancient Roman emperor’s demise.

The Ides of March is just one of many touchstones throughout the year that remind me of my grandfather. He was also fond of the number 240; whenever I come across that number his voice with its Yankee accent resonates in my head and a smile comes to my lips.

There are lots of things I don’t know about my grandfather or can’t remember—like his birthday; no idea. But I don’t need to know the vital statistics to remember him and his place in my life.

My grandfather was a tinkerer, a fixer, and a small-time inventor. He once took a Peanut Buster Parfait cup from Dairy Queen, sliced it in half and assessed the resulting funnels’ value as hearing aids. Some said that was because he squeezed every penny, but I’d say it was because he fervently believed there was no sense in spending money to buy something that you could make yourself. I’m much the same; bread-bake it, bookshelves-make it, etc.

He also loved tractors, a love he passed on to me and to many other members of the family. At one point he had an entire field of tractors across the road from his house. One afternoon when I was visiting, we went over to the field and he started up every engine that could be coaxed into life. The field hummed with the thrumming of diesel engines and it was a joyful sound.

Along with tractors, he loved trains. He once came to visit my family when we were living in Dawson Creek, British Columbia when he was about 70. As the day started to darken, we became concerned as to where he could be in this small prairie city where he knew no one other than us.

Not long after dark he shuffled up to the door and came in looking a bit tired but exuberant, holding a six pack of canned water under his arm. He’d been standing by the tracks that morning, got into conversation with an engineer and hitched a ride to Grand Prairie, Alberta and back with said engineer. The water was a parting gift from his new friend on the rails.

And he loved flowers. He went on a trip to Alaska with his one and only sibling, Uncle Barney, when he was in his late 70s. The resulting video of the trip was mostly of trains switching tracks, and flowers on the grassy meadows he walked through. My cousins, who worked a gold claim near Denali, got about two seconds in frame out of more than two hours of footage. It was so funny how he’d excitedly comment on the flowers as he filmed them, “That was just a bud yesterday.”

There are all those memories, and then there are the memories in the later years. Visiting with him at home with two of his many great-grandchildren, my kids who were just 2 years old and newborn. His house was far from childproofed and he knew it took an effort on my part to bring them over and he appreciated our frequent visits when I lived in Massachusetts.

The Ides of March always brings my grandfather to mind. I miss that funny fellow. Glad I got to have him for so long.

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Social distancing in the age of COVID-19

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Yesterday I learned how much a hug means when I couldn’t give one.

I was attending the wake of the father of a family whose connections are vast in this small community. One of the sons was my childhood friend since before we went to school in Grade Primary.

I remember sitting with him under a big spruce tree where our tire swing was hung when we were five years old. The other kids and adults were picking strawberries at our U-pick farm and in my memory, I kissed that boy.

I remember attending his birthday party at his family home, and he attended mine until we got to that age where boys and girls didn’t hang out together in elementary school.

I moved away in Grade 4 and then back again in the last months of Grade 12, and this boy was one of the friendly faces that greeted me during that difficult time.

And it wasn’t just this boy who had played a big part in my childhood, his older sister did too. At the age of 11, she started to babysit my sister and me; we would have been about 6 and 8 years old at that time. I’m pretty sure we were a handful.

There were so many days I remember her calling me to supper, her struggling to stay awake on the late nights my parents kept. She became a second mother to me.

And yesterday, when I saw them at the visitation for their father, I had to keep my hugs to myself. And it was hard. I felt a physical pull towards them, wanting to hug them, to let them know that I wanted to hold their pain for that moment.

The reason for this restriction on contact was the COVID-19 outbreak. At this time, there has not been a confirmed or presumptive case of the virus in this province, but it can be assumed that it is here or will be soon. Of all the things that will suffer from this outbreak, this restriction on physical contact in times of emotional need, may be the most difficult.

As my childhood friend said yesterday when he stood a little closer to me when I came to extend my condolences, "It's a whole new world."