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It’s Halloween and I found myself in a terrible dilemma. What to do? What to do?

Two years ago, after I put red devil horns on our dear doggie, tied a cape around his hairy little body and took his photo looking anything but thrilled with the situation, I kind of vowed that I’d never again turn our beloved Cairn into a Halloween project.

That was then. This is now.

I was out and about this weekend, including Bayview school’s annual Bay Boo event where hundreds of adorable children were dressed up in an amazing array of costumes of every conceivable variety. I also helped my friend stitch up a few bits and pieces for her family’s costumes. All in all, it left me … contemplating, considering, debating. With no kids to costume (my step kids are 29 and 26) and Steve and I deciding we just weren’t feeling like dressing up for any reason this year, my eyes fell on our RoadDog.

He’s just so cute all the time. It’s not like I put raincoats and booties on him or decorative sweaters or barrettes or bows or tiaras. Perish the thought. But the urge to see him in a costume — admittedly compounded greatly by the fact that it’s Monday, the weekday when I post this blog, and Halloween — and I broke down. I wasn’t strong enough to resist.

However, I also didn’t have a lot of time. I personally thought he’d make a wonderful pumpkin, but I didn’t have time to create that costume and Steve looked at me like I had truly lost my mind when I mentioned it, so I did what all parents do when they need a last minute costume — I turned my fur-child into a ghost with a simple sheet — well, in his case a pillowcase.

It was an old, old pillowcase and he shredded it in minutes (which was probably just what I deserved), but it was pretty darn cute while it lasted. So RoadDog will not be out knocking on doors for doggie treats tonight. He’ll have to help us greet our visitors instead.

Happy Halloween all!
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I think the strain of not riding is starting to get to our RoadDog.

Our little family has been doing pretty well waiting for Steve to fully recover from his fall, but this weekend everyone, including Jake, seemed just a little down in the dumps. I’m thinking it has to be a case of PMS — parked motorcycle syndrome. We usually only suffer it in the winter and early spring, but I’m thinking these unusual circumstances may have brought on an early bout of the illness.

We were walking at Miller Point yesterday, in fact we were all the way out on the point, when across the water we all heard the same sound — a bike, a bike with loud pipes. I kid you not, Jake turned his head so fast toward the noise that it was kind of funny and kind of sad at the same time. Then he just turned back and looked at us with sort of a puzzled expression as if to ask, “What’s going on? Why don’t we ride anymore?”

He seemed depressed for the rest of the day. Even last night, he ate his Timbit after Steve made a run into town, but then our boy just went back to moping.

And then there was this morning. Oh my! I was upstairs getting ready for work after Steve left and I heard Jake playing downstairs. That should have been my first hint because Jake usually dozes in the morning. Then the noise suddenly stopped and that should have been my second hint. Apparently, I just wasn’t awake.

I arrived downstairs prepared to grab a coffee and head out the door only to find stuffing all over the dining room floor. It is truly astounding how much stuffing actually goes into a smallish dog toy. You don’t really think about it until it’s all over the place in light, fluffy clouds and tumbleweeds.

Green Giggler got it this morning. Our RoadDog took out his frustrations on his favourite toy and a sad sight it was.

I gathered up the stuffings while Jake watched from a few feet away, his tongue out, clearly chagrined by what he’d done. One of Giggler’s arms is pretty much shredded, but I’m fairly confident that I can stitch it up. It will have to be done by hand and will probably take an hour and I have no doubt I’ll have a worried looking Cairn terrier at my feet the entire time.

Steve has an appointment coming up next week and may, if we’re lucky, get clearance to ride again. I really hope the weather holds for a few more weeks so we can bundle up and get out on the bikes a few times.

We’ve got to get Jake back on the road.
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We made an interesting discovery this weekend — RoadDog can travel in a car. Who knew?

Our boy has traditionally not been a fan of travelling in four-wheeled vehicles so we’ve always limited that as much as possible. But with Steve still unable to ride (yes, we’re hoping that changes soon) and the beautiful fall season upon us, this weekend we set out by car on a new adventure.

Steve and I decided, as we drove, that it’s rather ironic that our Cairn terrier has travelled well over 30,000 kilometres (we haven’t counted lately) on roadways, but has never spent more than an hour in a car since we brought him home at eight weeks old. Having done the test to Rissers Beach and back last weekend, we strapped Jake in his doggie seat belt in the back seat and away we went. His biggest issue is that he can’t see where he’s going and he’s not a fan of that, but having not been on the bikes for seven weeks, perhaps, like us, he decided to make the best of it.

And a wonderful time it was. We went to Milford House, a fantastic spot that we’ve driven by countless times over the years travelling to and from Digby. We’ve often talked about going there and finally got around to doing it. Wow, it was worth the wait.

Going to Milford House is almost like stepping back in time or something, but with great food. The sprawling main house is filled with antiques and features a big, airy dining room. The food was tremendous — both Saturday evening’s dinner and Sunday morning’s country breakfast left us filled, happy and more than content. And the staff are simply lovely. They don’t just treat guests well, they actually make you feel like they’re genuinely glad you came to visit.

Those were the easy parts to describe. The harder part is the atmosphere. As I said, it’s a bit like stepping back in time — kind of like the movie Dirty Dancing without the music and dancing and actors. Milford House sits on the bank of a lake, which is very close to a second lake. There are 27 cabins scattered in the trees around the lakes, all with their own verandahs, water views and small docks. The cabins are different sizes, but are all rustic — wooden-plank walls, simple furnishings, big fireplaces — and no televisions, radios, phones or alarm clocks. That’s right, no electronics. Oh and by the way, no cell service either. I didn’t try in the main lodge, but I couldn’t get a connection from our cabin.

It was … totally peaceful. After dinner on Saturday evening, Steve and I actually sat by the fire in relative silence, chatting a little and reading. Well, Steve did listen to his MP3 player. I took mine, but opted to enjoy the silence instead. Poor Jake wasn’t too sure what that was all about since we’re never in the house without some sort of background noise, but he was so tired from walking on the beautiful trails that he really didn’t care too much.

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That was the very first thing we did when we arrived. We didn’t even put our bags in our cabin, we just headed out to enjoy a long walk on the wooded trails around the lakes. It was breathtaking in places — the churning waters and the beautiful fall colours on the trees. And Sunday morning when we woke up and looked out at the calm lake reflecting the trees, it was honestly spectacular – nature at its very, very best.

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Oh yes, and did I mention the lakes? Jake took several dips along the shore on Saturday and wanted to take a lot more. We didn’t venture out in a canoe because Steve’s arm is still on the mend, but our curious Cairn did nose all around them as if trying to figure out just what they were all about.

He has a doggie PFD so maybe next time we’ll give that a try. There will definitely be a return trip to Milford House. I hope the water is warm because Jake will likely upset us in that canoe and we’ll all be swimming, but we’ll still have fun.

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Jake is thankful for this Thanksgiving weekend.

Obviously, our RoadDog hasn’t said so, but he doesn’t have to tell us – we just know.

First of all, there was the incredible weather. I can’t remember a Thanksgiving weekend as consistently warm and sunny as this one any time recently. It was simply amazing.

Then, thanks to the wonderful weather, our Cairn got to do all kinds of fun things. Steve still hasn’t recovered fully from his fall, although he’s doing very well (and thank you to all of you who have inquired about his health and well-being in recent weeks), so we weren’t able to ride. None of us are very thankful about that, but we’re all very grateful that Steve didn’t suffer more serious injuries and will be able to ride again in a few weeks.

Still, we’re making the best of it and had a marvelous weekend, even if we were riding around in a car instead of on the bikes.

On Saturday afternoon, the three of us headed off to the MARC in Dayspring and had a lovely walk. Some of it was along a sunny, warm road while much of it was through some shaded woods. It really was a great way to spend the afternoon, meandering and exploring, enjoying the day. It was also good for our boy, well for all of us, to get out and stretch the legs and get some fresh air.

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We had such fun that we decided to head out again on Sunday afternoon, this time to Rissers Beach. Wow, what a day it was at Rissers. It was sunny and hot. There were quite a few people walking and still others swimming and playing in the water. I was wearing capris and ended up wet to my thighs. Unfortunately, Jake got a little wetter thanks to some bad timing on my part. I kind of coaxed our boy a little further away from shore than he usually ventures. It was a bad moment for a slightly larger wave to come in and wash right over his head. He wasn’t very happy, not with the wave, the water or me for a few minutes. Our RoadDog is pretty forgiving though and he got over it quickly.

Jake played in the water for quite some time, wading up to his chest which, if you think about it, must be kind of tiring. It would be similar to us walking in hip-deep water, which can be quite a workout. He also rolled around on the sand and got completely covered in it and then didn’t quite understand why I tried to wash some of it off of him before he headed back towards the car.

Finally, our RoadDog came up with a new beach game. He decided he should dig up all the shells he encountered which were lying right side up on the beach. That was likely kind of tiring too because there were a lot of them and the water would wash in and cover them up and Jake would have to search for them and start again. Then he’d move on to another. It was quite a project.

Needless to say, on Sunday evening Jake had a shower. We were able to suck up a bit after that thanks to a bag of faux Timbits Steve picked up on Saturday – donut holes from the grocery store. Jake definitely knows the difference, but seemed to think that a faux Timbit was better than no Timbit at all.

Monday was more low key. Jake was so tired we decided to take it easy on him. He just kept us company outside while we did some yard work. Of course, he had to walk around and inspect everything we’d done and seemed rather pleased that I’d cut back some branches and widened the path to the front lawn.

Then it was off to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner. Jake didn’t have any turkey, but he did have some extra peas and carrots. And he might have had the front tip of my slice of pumpkin pie. I’m not confessing anything … but it might have happened.

And now I’m pretty sure if I go look for RoadDog, I’ll find him gently snoring in the living room. … Yep. That’s where he is. His tongue is out, but he’s sort of smiling around it. He had a grand weekend.

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I’m sure I’ve pondered this before in this space, but what is it about Tims?

How does our RoadDog know when he’s outside a Tim Hortons? Does he recognize the sign? Does he smell the scent of donuts wafting through the air? Is it something about the way Steve and I behave when we arrive there?

I admit it, I just don’t get it. Make no mistake, Jake knows when we all arrive at a Tims. I understand his excitement completely. Our boy is all about his belly and he loves his Timbits. But how does he know? That’s the part I just don’t understand.

It happened again during our travels in August. We’d been to New Hampshire and arrived back in Maine in the early afternoon. Steve and I had just been chatting on our radios about stopping for a break when there on the right was a Tims with lots of beautiful lawn so Jake could stretch his legs too.

We pulled in and our RoadDog was immediately on high alert. As you can see from the photo, he knew exactly where we were and was less than patient waiting for Steve’s return. He’d had a couple of faux Timbits along the way, but they just weren’t the same as the real thing, not for our boy. He was on vacation and he hadn’t had a bit for a week.

We soon fixed that.
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