One of my Facebook friends posted this:
I’m going to be hearing that creepy “Mameshiba!!!” in my dreams. Aaaagh!
Coombs is an awesome little place between Parksville and Port Alberni. It has become something of a tourist attraction, especially the Old Country Market. There are a lot of little shops there and it’s jam-packed in the summer. Despite the tourist traps that some of the stores definitely are, I love it there.
During this morning, the temperatures got up to about 30 Celsius. That’s 86 Farenheit. Whatever scale you go by, it equals not leaving the dog in the car, so my boyfriend and I took turns visiting the Market. When I returned from shopping, Mischa had an interesting story to tell me.
Apparently a Korean guy came up to him and was very excited about Tierce. Unfortunately he didn’t speak a lot of English, so the conversation went something like this.
“No, Shiba inu.”
“No, no, no! Jindo-ka! Korea!”
“No, man, this is a Shiba inu. Japan!”
And the man wanders away, probably convinced that we had picked up a Jindo from a shelter somewhere that had it listed as a “husky mix”.
I’m totally not begging. Really. I’m just observing your eating habits. It’s fascinating, the culinary behaviour of humans. Just fascinating. If you don’t mind, what is the origin of that cheese-covered bread crust peeping at me from the upper left quadrant of your plate? I’m just curious. I’m a big fan of cheese, by the way. It’s kind of, like, a life calling for me. But don’t mind me; by all means continue with your meal. I’m just an impartial observer. How does it taste? I’ve always said that you were an excellent cook; other people might not share that opinion, but I know it as fact. I’m just wondering, as a matter of detached interest, are you planning to eat that aforementioned crust of bread? I’m just curious, because if you weren’t going to eat it, I could be prevailed upon to ensure that it doesn’t go to waste. Humans are so wasteful. Oh, I don’t mean you… you’re different. You wouldn’t just throw out a perfectly nourishing 5 cheese bread dripping with paillot de chevre if there was a hungry mouth that would be grateful even for the tiniest crumb.
I’ve always said that you were the best person ever.
This was not created by me, but as I have seen it in several places on the Net, I thought it would be entertaining for y’all:
When my boyfriend and I go to bed, the general outline looks like this:
The bed is a double and has ample room for both of us. Generally, when we fall asleep, it’s quite comfortably and with plenty of room to stretch out.
However, come the morning, the outline looks more like this:
Somehow, during the night, a 23 pound dog manages to move 350 pounds of human onto half the space it started in. Does anyone else have this issue with their Shiba(s)? If we got another Shiba, would we be evicted from the bed altogether?
The other day, I got a letter from City Hall. It was about Tierce’s license, but it wasn’t a polite reminder. No, it was a threat to send my account to collections. Apparently, since I haven’t purchased a license yet, they think that this will be an effective method of making me trot my ass to City Hall and merrily pay the fee.
Now, I believe in licensing and everything that my municipality does to improve and maintain the dog poop bag dispensers, the dog park and the animal shelter. I appreciate and support what they do to aid dog owners. If the letter had been a polite reminder that it was time to renew, I would have eventually headed over and ponied up the $25.
But I do not support threatening dog owners in order to force them to pay licensing fees, especially when they are good enough to alert City Hall to the fact that they have a dog in the first place. I think it’s stupid and offensive. So, tomorrow, I’m definitely going to go to City Hall.
I’m going to tell them that the dog’s dead.
Still, you don’t need to have squandered two work weeks glued to the puppy cam — that insanely popular streaming Internet video that’s been focused on nothing more than a crate full of adorable Shiba Inu pups since this month began — to know that was some calculated speechifyin’ on the president-elect’s part.
It’s this allergy business that’s causing the — um — less professional of Internet animal advocates to fear the Obama family’s final choice. Sure the president-elect talks rescue, but then he uses his daughters as a caveat.
What if these allergy constraints of his daughter might cause him to waver — resulting in a canine flip-flop of national proportions? Because, let’s face it: crazy cat people get a bad rap, but crazy dog people are so much worse. Crazy dog people will cut you.
I know. I am one. And I have a knife. Generally, it’s used to chop fresh organic ingredients for meals served twice daily to my herd of rescue pugs, but I’m not above turning it on a backyard breeder … or animal-as-accessory maven Paris Hilton. Whatever.
I’ve just decided that Helen A.S. Popkin, the author of this piece, is teh awesumz.