Dogs and Cats I Do Not Know

Let's start the new year off with some fluff!

As a kid, I was steadfast about the water level in my wading pool in case my friends dropped by. They weren’t people friends—-better yet, they were dogs. One was a sleek Weimaraner with velvet ears and his sidekick was a nose-down shepherd cross who was chronically on the trail of something. They unpredictably lopped down the railroad tracks that ran behind our house and it was as though we had made prior arrangements to meet in the backyard by the pool. Growing up in the '70s, I was part of the golden era that still voluntarily played outside and had to be whistled in just before dark.

I was out the door and barefoot in the dirt with burdocks knotted in my hair as soon as I could swallow my bowl of “magically delicious” Lucky Charms. These two dogs became part of my daily routine and to this day, I have no idea who they belonged to. I knew my role was to ensure they were hydrated and my wading pool was a beacon. I considered them mine though they didn’t stick around long enough. They were always on the move but welcomed the spike of affection before returning to the tracks that split through the cantaloupe, horseradish, tobacco and corn fields towards Highway 24.

The seventies were a relatively leash-free era and if you were a country dog, you’d never see a leash in your life. The dogs on our road were as free range as my siblings and I. We’d scream around on our BMX and banana seat bikes, picking up dogs along the way. They were a critical part of our pack and we moved en masse between my grandparents’ farm to my uncle's on the corner and back. The dogs panted alongside us and shared eager bites of our stolen Chips Ahoy! Cookies. They were also known to eat our vital fishing bait that we poached from my Nan. We probably caught more dogs than sunfish with our bait medley of mini marshmallows and corn niblets.

There was a long-lived farm dog lineage: Schmoogles (a barky Westie), Brutus (a forever slobber-bound Saint Bernard), Lucy (a pushover Rottweiler), Spook (a black lab) and Sally, a truly great Great Pyrenees. She wasn’t a typical pig farm dog (white fur!) but she was always game for a ride in the pick-up truck, seated so closely beside my grandfather that their silhouette from behind made them look like young lovers.

It would be a few years before Xanadu unexpectedly joined our family and dog pack as a roadside drop-off. In my memory, he arrived on my birthday and was the best gift as I stepped off the school bus. Finally, a dog of my very own! The Weimaraner and his fur pal were seasonal and when Xanadu arrived, I had a sidekick of my own who didn’t see any obstacle when it came to relentless wind, boot-sucking mud and snow that left a hundred mini snowballs dangling from his legs and shaggy belly.

If I have loved dogs for a lifetime, why don’t we have one?

Kim and I are like the Weimaraner and the Shepherd. We’ve got places to see and even though we’ll loop back, we’re not sure when. I love dogs and cats in equal measure and my photos from around the world prove that if I’m not zooming in on pizza or chalkboard beer menus or birds, it’s a cat or dog that I don’t know.

Kim and I still refer to dogs and cats that we ‘met’ only once. “Remember that gorgeous dog in Croatia?” We actually crossed the road to see this dog close-up, he was that dashing. Is it weird to approach someone and ask to take a photo of their dog? Maybe. But what a babe this dog was! I selfishly engaged in small talk, mostly to pet the heck out of this dog and take a pic with permission.

The effervescent Croatian/Australian border collie's owner was over the moon to hear that we were from Canada. He had uncles in Etobicoke and Edmonton. Actually, every Croatian we met was pleased as punch to tell us the whereabouts of their relatives in Canada. In front of a grocery store in Hvar, I asked a local about his New Balance runners and that led to learning about his entire family tree and all the cities they lived in. Calgary, Stoney Creek, Etobicoke, Markham, Regina. He has better provincial family representation in Canada than we did.

Besides being an addictive Florence + The Machine song, do you know what the dog days of summer are all about? From July 3 to August 11, the Dog Star, Sirius, rises at the same time or near the same time as the sun in the Northern hemisphere. Greek and Roman astrology connects this period of wasabi-hot days, drought and sudden thunderstorms with lethargy, fever, bad luck and mad dogs. Siriusly? This dog could be the poster child for the dog star days of summer year round in Ambergris Caye, Belize.

This pot-bellied pup on the beach in Dickenson Bay Beach was just about the perfect size to smuggle back in my carry-on. He was dopey new at six-weeks-old with sand granules peppering his wet nose as he sniffed his way along the powdery footprints with one eye on his person.

Along the Camino de Santiago and Camino Portuguese, Kim and I often encountered more dogs than humans in the misty morns. The snarly, scrappy incognito guy sounded off from directly above our heads. He had patiently waited until that ideal moment for us to be distracted and oblivious and 100% startled. Look at this threatening face from five pounds of fur! On the flip side, this regal lab was available for a portrait and pet, no problemo. “Would you like my paws crossed or un-crossed? How’s the frill around my neck? Does it need a fluff? Are my nails okay?”

The sleepy, slinky cats of the Camino occupied the other half of my film reel. Some acknowledged us with a half-interested "mew" while others bounced down from their perches to take full advantage of a possible pet.

When Kim and I landed in the tiny mountain village of Foncebadón, Spain, there were three hostels to choose from, a small mercado and definitely more cats than people. At this point along the Camino, Kim and I were definitely not the cat's meow. We were barking our heads off (an unspoken side effect of the Camino). This was the not-so-surprising result of 20 nights of chronically broken sleep, sleeping with 30 different strangers each night in soap-less accommodations and walking 30km a day.

I was in the full throws of a serious coughing spell (insert snot bubble, half-wet shorts and tears streaming down my hot cheeks here) when I noticed this lovely little kitten wearing a dream catcher. He was pre-occupied and stalking so I had no time to dilly-dally and cough until throwing up as I needed to. Squatting and squat-chasing this kitty I was able to click this shot. Close enough. He was being a bratty subject and refused to turn his head (and Kim was certain I was going to hyperventilate in my attempts).

Of all the pics I took in Croatia, I'm still most crazy about this one of from Brzac. She had a tinny squeak of a meow and hid behind these brilliant berries in a massive bush that made taking her photo near impossible. She was curious but too shy to emerge for an ear scratch. At this point, Kim had doubled back, wondering what was wrong. She should know by now that I’ve been sucked in by a mewling kitten or sleeping dog on a front stoop. Like this darling ginger in Holetown, Barbados.

There are lovely dogs and cats everywhere—-thank you to those who have them and generously share their loose fur, muddy paws and candid photos. I could really runaway with this theme of dogs and cats I don’t know but feel like I do through the persuasive powers of Facebook.

Adorable image and fearless cat couture credit: Kaye Olsson

This is wily Willy from Hamilton, Montana sporting a designer cat puffa. He belongs to our friend Kaye Olsson (or, let’s get real, she belongs to Willy). Kaye has an unheard of magical superpower: the ability to put an item of clothing on a cat unscathed! Or, she has mad photoshopping skills that she hasn’t disclosed. Or maybe she was scathed behind the scenes!

This dog doesn’t belong to me either. However, I was asked to hold him while his owner queued up in the coffee joint behind me in Pitlochry, Scotland. Kim and I were trying to crack the code to get into our Airbnb so I left Kim to figure out the frustration while I held back the howling beast. He was small but so mighty—-he swallowed the treats provided by his owner like Pac-Man and was very thrilled to see her return.

Do you share this same affliction of taking photos of other people’s pets? Maybe you have a pet of your own that strange people like me stop to lovingly smother with affection. I’m available for temp dog-sitting too!

And now for a special shout-out to Miss Moppet and Raffles! My parents adopted these two gentle Himalayans from the SPCA a few days ago. We’ve yet to meet them so for now, they are cats I do not know but already love! I know my parents are going to have them brushed into cotton candy consistency with adoration.

Happy new year, everyone. YOU are the cat’s meow and your subscription makes me happier than a dog with two tails. As Bob Barker would remind, “have your pets spayed or neutered. Goodbye everybody!”