33. Construction

Dear Boomer,

            The weather gets warmer.  The Pup has his bicycle out -- still with the training wheels on.[1]  Maybe this summer your pup will get a bicycle as well, so you’ll learn there are certain advantages, and one disadvantage.

            One advantage is that we spend more time in Windsor Park.  The Pup wants to practice riding his bike several times a day.  This means taking a few runs along the pathways before gravitating toward the swings and the play structures.  Taken all together, it adds up to more quantity of Windsor Park moments. 

            And it improves the quality of Windsor Park moments as well.  When the Pup’s cycling around the river path, Alpha leaves me to sniff around at my leisure.  When we get to the swings, there’s lots of opportunities for ball tossing -- and lots of other humanoids who, I know, want nothing more than to throw a ball for an eager doggie.

            So lots of advantages.  But the disadvantage is a certain shortness of temper in Alpha when he tries to herd the Pup, his bicycle, and me across Riverdale Avenue to get to the park.

            It’s bad enough most years.  This year, Alpha is testier than usual – and the traffic is enough to give even a dog of fortitude and ambition pause to reconsider whether it’s worth trying to cross Riverdale Avenue.

            What’s gotten into this crazy world?  The stream of traffic is unrelenting.  The humanoids seem very grumpy indeed.  The only things that cheers them up is to see one of those cars with the flashing lights chase another car down the street.[2]

            Our friend Jacob the German Shepherd tells me that he and his Fem-Alpha were almost hit the other day while they crossed the street.  It didn’t seem to matter that they were at the cross walk and there was a stop sign.  A car ploughed through nonetheless, passing the car that had stopped for the pedestrians, and nearly clipped the pedestrians as it rushed by.  I’m hearing more of these stories in the afternoon romps in the Park.

            Bank Street has become transformed in recent weeks as well.  Lots of new smells.  Lots of big holes where the humanoids try to bury these huge blue bones.  You gotta hand it to humanoids: when they decide to bury a bone, they don’t go for half measures.[3]

            I’m able to keep a close eye on the developments on Bank Street because Alpha brings me along when he meets with the neighbours to complain about what is happening on Riverdale.  These meetings take place nearly every day, which is a good thing for a dog who wants to go out into the world and be seen.

            Alpha and the neighbours meet at different coffee shops.  I’m becoming quite a connoisseur of which ones I like best.  Some let you sit and wait at the front door.  Others don’t.  Some give you overhead protection against April showers; at others, you sit and look miserable as your fur grows more wet.  At some, you end up tied to trees and can sniff the tidings of doggies who have been there before you; at others, you’re tied to a parking meter with no scent but the dust of street construction.[4]

            So when I hear Alpha talking with the neighbours about how they want these streets to look when the construction is all finished, I’m all for it.[5]  I think we should submit our wish list as well.  A fire hydrant on every corner.  More trees so that the concrete will be cooler in the summer, and there’ll be enough squirrels to keep us entertained.  Grassy strips between the sidewalks and the curbs, so that when we piddle, it soaks into the earth and doesn’t run across the sidewalk.  And how about doggie-treat dispensers at every cross-walk?[6]

            “Take back control of our neighbourhood streets,” I keep hearing Alpha say.  I couldn’t agree more.  Let the motto be: “This neighbourhood is going to the dogs!”

                                                           Watching the cars and the world go by,

                                                            Zoscha

[1] “The Pup” would have been six years old that April – and not long for training wheels.

[2] Calista McCaffrey, “A Dog’s Eye View; Zoscha and the world of Old Ottawa South,” Carleton University Review, Summer, 2009, notes that Ottawa traffic police sometimes wait at the corner of Riverdale and Cameron to catch motorists who run the stop signs

[3] In her unpublished Master’s thesis, A Dog’s Eye View, Zoscha and Windsor, (Carleton University, 2010), Monica Tardif reveals that Bank Street was under construction during spring and summer of 2003.  She concludes that the “huge blue bones” were, in fact, water pipes.

[4] Tardif, op. cit., lists the possible Bank Street coffee shops referred to at that time as the Second Cup at Sunnyside, Starbucks at Hopewell, and Tim Horton’s near Riverdale.  At the time of her thesis she observed that dogs continued to wait patiently outside Starbucks.

[5] More recent construction on Bank Street in the Glebe underscore the importance of these community advisory committees in helping redesign the streetscapes as part of the City’s projects to replace aging sewage and waterline infrastructure.

[6] Zoscha wrote this article before doggie boutique stores such as “Wag” and “Global Pet Foods” opened on Bank Street.  No doubt she would have approved.

31. Excrescence

Dear Boomer,

            What’s the scoop,

            Betty Boop?

            What’s all this fuss

            Over doggie poop?

            The humanoids are getting their snouts in a snarl again.  Seems that opinions are polarized on what to do about cleaning up after us.

            Some humanoids are elevated souls who understand that there is no greater calling than to take care of the lower members of the pack.  The lower members, sad to say, are us. 

            Our alphas acquire a degree of humility by stuffing their pockets with plastic bags and taking us to the park.  Christ washed the feet of His disciples.  Alphas clean up dog poop.

            One of the rites of passage in the weaning of humanoid pups is training them to pick up after the doggies.  Often my Alpha let’s the Pup or his friends hold my leash when we go for a walk.  He always asks if they will clean up the poop if I make a deposit during my perambulations.  Always they refuse.  They are not yet weaned.  Once a humanoid pup is old enough to clean up after a dog, he or she is no longer a pup.[1]

            And for our part, we understand the importance these routines, rituals and rites of passage have for humanoids.  So I do my best to hold on until we reach Windsor Park, where I know my Alpha will dedicate the appropriate attention and care to our daily needs.

            The humanoids erect shrines to these activities.  Spaced throughout the park, like stations of the cross, the garbage receptacles welcome our little offerings.  Every once and awhile, the high priests of these ceremonies come by and unload the receptacles into a city truck.  And therein lies the source of the dispute.

            Because some humanoids do not appreciate these rituals at all.  Or at least, they think the rituals should be extended by having the humanoids carry the dog poop back to our homes.  It should be flushed down the toilets, they say, and the poopy bags stored with the general garbage under the kitchen sink, I guess. 

            Or the humanoids should carry with them poop and scoop buckets, rather than plastic bags.  The buckets would be placed at the front door, along with our leashes and combing brushes.  But above all, say this school, poop bags should not be left in the garbage containers at the park itself.

            The humanoids get quite animated over this debate.  On the one hand, the challenge of landfill sites filled with plastic bags and excrement.  On the other hand the problems of hygiene at the home. 

            On the one hand, City councillors maintain that it would cost more than a million dollars to keep emptying the park containers.  On the other hand, dog owners say this is only a real problem in the summer when the aroma of the shrines can discourage humanoid activity in the vicinity. So why would it cost a million dollars to hire a couple of summer students and a truck for four months to go around to the dog parks? 

            They ask where the money from the purchase of dog licenses goes – and some say they wouldn’t mind paying a few dollars more per dog to get adequate service from the city.

            On the one hand, a television newscast maintains 90 percent of dog owners the City consulted have no objection to taking dog poop home with them.  On the other hand, we’ve found but one single dog owner, out of the 100 or so consulted in Windsor Park, who is part of this overwhelming majority.

            On the one hand, the demand for a higher degree of civic responsibility on the part of the dog owners so they don’t leave their litter in the containers.  On the other hand, a remarkable degree of civic responsibility already shown by dog owners.  They don’t leave the poop on the ground.  They are very hard on those among them who neglect to clean up.  And every Spring, they get together for the pick-a-poo harvest, when trowels and bags in hand, the humanoid gather together to clean up anything they may have missed in the snowbanks of winter.  And in the process, they clean up the park of all litter, making it a better place for everyone.[2]

            The debate continues.  Tempers are getting hotter.  So I have a modest proposal. 

            Neither Alpha nor I condone the civil disobedience of some who say, “Well, if they’re going to make it so much harder for us, we just won’t bother picking up.”  This is not the way to inter-species harmony.

            Nor do we condone the suggestions that the contents of the poop bags be mailed to city councillors with a note asking them to do something with it.  I, for one, have too much pity for the letter carriers.

            I like the idea of new technology for chemical disposal of waste in the parks.  But the city won’t spring for a couple of summer students to clean up containers, so I doubt whether it would go for special doggie doo doo depositories, or even biodegradable plastic bags available at the park entrances.

            But it seems to me that the heart of the issue is recycling.  We need recyclable containers for doggie poop, and we need something to do with it afterward.  And so what I propose is the wheat flour and corn starch cornets used for ice cream cones.  They are biodegradable.  They are insoluble enough for your average dog walk.  Using one cornet, humanoids can scoop our deposits into another cornet and take it home. 

            Put it in the receptacles and let the city biodegrade it?  Maybe. Take it home and flush it down the toilet, cornet and all?  Perhaps. 

            Or maybe just put them in the freezer for a few months and, on the hottest day of summer, when so many people have forgotten all the effort of the poop-and-scoop harvest, take them out of the freezer, go down to city hall while they thaw, and offer them to councillors and city employees.  Call them poopsicles, if you like.

            Just don’t go near the Dairy Queen.

            Advocating a dog representative on city council,

                                                                        Zoscha[3]

[1] R.J. Huxtable, “Rites of Passage,” Carleton University Review, Spring, 2010, comments on how Zoscha perceives the human progression.

[2] Zoscha often wrote articles about the annual cleanup of the park.  See, for example, “Poop Picking Harvest,” Windsor Chronicles, Part 3, April 2000; “Cleaning Up the Park,” Part 34, May 2003; “Harvest Time,” Part 52, April 2005; “Playoff Season,” Part 71, April 2007; “No Country for Old Dogs,” Part 83, May 2008.

[3] The debate about what to do with dog waste in Windsor Park has escalated in recent months, with the City putting signs on garbage receptacles prohibiting their use for animal poop.  The Windsor Pups Community Action Group, representing about 250 dog owners in the neighbourhood, has submitted a proposal recommending dedicated covered containers for animal waste. They have asked for a meeting with City officials to discuss possible solutions.

27. Zoscha-Speak

Dear Boomer,

            Sometimes it is hard to tell whether humanoids truly understand what you tell them. This is true with body language.  It’s even more true with monthly columns in a community newspaper.

            This was brought home to me last week when Alpha was talking to Winnie’s alpha.  My Alpha understands Winnie’s body language, alright.  When the little dog barks and snaps at his ankles, it is a communication that is hard to misinterpret.  But meanwhile, Winnie’s alpha was asking my Alpha some questions about last month’s article, and I realized that many humanoids do not understand our world – or at least the way that I describe it.

            In the interest of inter-species communication, here is a glossary of Zoscha-speak:[1]

Humanoids: A particularly obtuse species of the animal kingdom.  They are, however, blessed with hands capable of opening dog food bags and throwing tennis balls. [2]

Pack: A cohesive unit of humanoids and dogs, characterized by a rigid social hierarchy.

Alphas: The lead member in any pack, responsible for ensuring we get fed.  They also mete out justice and dictate the pack’s sleeping arrangements.

My Alpha: In our pack, the humanoid who relegates me to the cushion under the desk, while he sleeps in the big bed with the flannel sheets; and to the floor in front of the fire while he lounges on the sofa.  He gets annoyed to find I’ve explored how the other half lives.

Lumps: Humanoid offspring so young that they have not yet acquired the dexterity to throw a tennis ball.  As such, they are rather useless creatures.  One of the greatest of life’s injustices is the way that, in the hierarchy of humanoid packs, Lumps automatically assume a preferred position to faithful and long-serving dogs.

Pups: Humanoid offspring old enough to throw a tennis ball.  They are more useful in this state, but their value to the pack is diminished by their tendency to want to ride you like a horse.[3]

The Pup: My Alpha’s other constant companion.  Sometimes at Windsor Park we conspire to divert his attention.  The Pup will insist that Alpha push him on the swing; that leaves me free to explore the swamp on my own.  Alternatively, I do my business as far away from the play structure as sight-lines allow.  That way, when Alpha comes over to clean up, the Pup has several minutes to try out gymnastic tricks on the high bar that Alpha would otherwise prohibit.

Pup Kennels: Buildings with fenced-in yards where, on most days, adult humanoids deposit their pups.  This leaves the adults free to concentrate on throwing balls in Windsor Park.  There were two kennels in our neighbourhood – St. Margaret Mary’s and Hopewell. St. Margaret Mary’s was smaller, quieter, and had better sight-lines for Alpha-watching, but the humanoids decided that it was altogether too dog-friendly and they have closed it down. [4]  

The Noisy Box: A contraption in the corner of the living room that can absorb a humanoid’s attention for hours at a time.  Rather like a squirrel, only it doesn’t move and can’t be chased.[5]

The Giant Drinking Dish: A big cement pond behind the play structures at Windsor Park.  On hot summer days, the humanoids thoughtfully fill it with fresh water; then they don’t let dogs near it to drink, but they let their pups splash in it.  They’re a peculiar species, humanoids.[6]

Boomer: Some humanoids think I’m addressing my letters to a generation.  They’re so species-absorbed.  Of course “Boomer” doesn’t refer to humanoids of a certain age.  It means you – my beagle buddy!  You, who have your own take on life, with your companion Jasper.[7]  As always, I’m looking forward to having a good prance together the next time we meet in Windsor Park.

                                                                        Hoping all this will help them understand,

                                                                       Zoscha

[1] This is one of several attempts Zoscha made to provide a lexicon of her vocabulary.  See “Vocabulary for Snow,” The Windsor Chronicles, Part 48, December 2004.

[2] Much academic speculation has centred around why Zoscha used the term “humanoids” rather than simply “humans.”  For a review of the current literature, see “Species from Another Planet,” Janet Carruthers, Carleton University Review, December 2010.

[3] Zoscha first explored the process of maturing from lumps to pups in her inaugural column, “Into the White World,” The Windsor Chronicles, Part 1, February 2000.

[4] These are the names of the two elementary schools in the area at that time.  Hopewell Avenue Public School remains today.  St. Margaret Mary’s Catholic School was bulldozed to make way for condominiums.

[5] For the packs, television viewing habits, see “The Magic Box,” Windsor Chronicles, Part 22, April 2002.

[6] See “Giant Doggie Dish,” The Windsor Chronicles, Part 25, August 2002.

[7] Nathalie Nowlan, “The Windsor World of Yesteryear,” Descant Monthly, Spring, 2008, surmises that Boomer and her companion Jasper may have lived somewhere near Riverdale and Fentiman avenues.

24. FURLESS, FURLESS, FUR-URLESS

Dear Boomer,

            It’s been a sweltering summer -- the kind where you just want to dig a deeper hole under the back step, and lie in the shade with your fur against the cool earth.

            When Alpha and the Pup pack the van, I wait in the shade of the front doorway until they’re done. There’s no need to work up the heat by prancing around to attract their attention. I have more confidence now that they will take me with them to the cottage.

            Occasionally they mislead me.  They pack me into the back of the van, and I’m excited about a trip to the cottage, but then they don’t make the turn along the river and head east towards the lake.  They continue driving south, and in a short while my suspicions are confirmed when they drop me off at summer camp.[1]

            Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not that I mind spending a week or two with our friends.  I don’t mind the quarters – bunking out in the rows of pens.  I certainly don’t mind the air conditioning.  And it’s always a pleasure to see who will be at summer camp this time around, and to play with the others when they open our crates and let us run free.  The food is good.  The humanoids who run the camp are very agreeable. 

            But it’s just that, compared to the joy of going to the lake, and sniffing around for frogs, and chasing fish in the shallows, and having all manner of new humanoids to throw the ball out into the water, and swimming out into the cool lake to retrieve it, well, summer camp is just second best.

            I always know that my stint at summer camp is coming to the end because the humanoids give me a bath.  I don’t like baths normally.  Who does?  A bath removes much of the aromas we work so hard to acquire, and we take on a rather humanoid scent of soap.  But at summer camp, a bath also means that Alpha will come later that day to take me home.  I withstand the indignity of it all because I know that, in a few hours, I can begin to reacquire more dogly smells from Windsor Park.

            And sometimes there are unforeseen advantages of having that last bath at summer camp.  The humanoids remove my collar to bathe me, of course.  Usually Alpha makes sure that my fur is well dried before putting my collar back on.  Drying sometimes takes several hours – which means a degree of collar-less and leash-less freedom for the first walk to Windsor Park.

            But at the beginning of the summer, Alpha put my collar back on before my fur was fully dry.  What’s more, he made the collar a little tighter than normal.  I didn’t mind the discomfort at first.  But after a day or two, the combination of wet skin and tight collar began to create real problems.  Before I knew it, Alpha took off my collar and brought me in to see those people with the white coats who seem so nice until they start poking you in all kinds of places you don’t want to be poked.[2] 

            This time, it wasn’t a case of poking so much as shaving.  They shaved the fur from my neck and provided Alpha with all kinds of pills and sprays as minor torments for me in the short term.  But the long term benefits have been terrific!  Alpha seems to be waiting until my neck fur grows back in before getting me a new collar.  The result:  months of glorious freedom.  No collar.  No leash.

            All I must do in return in not abuse my new privileges.  I’ve paid special attention to his commands.  When he whistles, I come.  When it’s heel time, I heel.  And when he leaves me outside a Bank Street store, I wait patiently, trying my best to prove to him that, once the collar and leash are restored, he won’t have to revert to tying me up again. 

            Of course, there is that problem of my short attention span.  When there’s so many smells and other distractions on Bank Street, I sometimes forget that I’ve been instructed to lie down and stay.  But hopefully, before my fur grows back in, I can train Alpha to be less uptight about giving me a certain degree of latitude in the streets of our community.

                                                                                    Counting on my fur growing very slowly,

                                                                                    Zoscha

[1] Zoscha’s first reference to “summer camp” occurs in Part 5, August 2000.  Recent scholarship by Cindy MacLaren (unpublished Master’s thesis, Carleton University, 2011) concludes that the “camp” in question was the Gloucester Boarding Kennel on Ramsayville Road.

[2] MacLaren op. cit. has concluded that Zoscha’s medical care was received at the Alta Vista Animal Hospital on Bank Street.

19. Tobaganning

Dear Boomer,

            What wonderful weather for sleds and toboggans   The snow is packed and firm, with icy patches for those who want momentum before they hit the speed bump at the foot of the run.  The snow is firm enough, in fact, that tennis balls bounce and skitter, rather than bury into the drifts.  Now that the fence has been removed from the ward yard, there are more possibilities for sledding and chasing – chasing sleds, chasing balls, and chasing other dogs.(1)

            When the humanoids and their pups assemble at the top of the hill, they are all very willing to kick or throw the balls down the slope.  Maybe it’s their way of keeping us out of the way while the pups line up for their turns on the sled runs.  I sometimes like to tease them by loitering about in their path, but every self respecting dog knows enough to keep an ear cocked for the approach of a hurtling toboggan.

            Each year, there’s a new technology for humanoids to apply to the hill.  Last year, Alpha and the Pup’s favourite was the hard plastic “flying saucer.”  This year, humanoids seem intrigued by the possibilities of inflatable sleds, shaped like space craft, that whine down the slope with the sound of a strong wind blowing through a small opening.

            I think someone should come up with an idea of skis for four-legged creatures.  Maybe attaching the dewclaw to a safety binding.  I think I could get the hang of shifting my weight to carve a turn in the snow, or relaxing my stifles enough to take the impact as I schuss straight down the hill.

            In the meantime, I have been thoroughly enjoying the new technology the humanoids have developed for ball-throwing.  I’ve heard the humanoids call it a “chuck it” and it’s the greatest thing since sliced meatloaf.  It’s nothing more than a stick about the length of Alpha’s arm, with a claw-like cup on one end and a handle grip on the other.(2)

            Humanoids like the cup because it lets them pick up the ball without touching it.  They seem to have an aversion to dog slobber, these humanoids.  They need to get more in touch with their inner pup.  Some of the more senior of the species also like the chuck-it because they don’t have to bend down to pick up the ball.  It’s as if their arms can now reach right to the ground.

            And I like the chuck-it because it opens new vistas for exercise.  I still have to get the hang of this, however.  I’m still not accustomed to Alpha being able to hurl a ball over the hockey rink, over the kiddie rink and clear over the tennis court fence.  I go off in search of the ball, can’t find it, and am usually surprised to find that it has gone about twice as far as I had estimated. 

            This is good exercise for Alpha as well – not just the throwing, but trudging off to the far corners of the park to help me find a ball that has been launched well beyond my radar.  In the coming months, I’ll no doubt get accustomed to the new technology.  I’ll be able to calculate how far out and in what direction the ball has gone.  And in the spring, we will go out sniffing for all those tennis balls that Alpha and I have not been able to find in the snow.

            I’m looking forward to summer, when I hope Alpha will take the chuck-it out to the cottage.  I want to see if this new technology enables him to throw a ball all the way out to the little island where the herons scoop for minnows.  But that is still a long time away, and right now, I’m very happy looking for tennis balls in the snow.

                                                            Enjoying the winter of our content,

                                                            Zoscha

(1)  Recent scholarship confirms that the toboggan run Zoscha refers to lies on a slight rise near the west end of the park.  It continues to be enjoyed by dogs and humans alike.  See Martha S. Van Yard, “Places and Playthings: The World of Fun in Zoscha’s Chronicles,”  Journal of Canine Studies, Vol 2, No. 1, Summer, 2008.

(2) Ibid.