Samantha is a mastiff cross, and small, dainty and elegant do not describe her. What she is, is big, although as we slogged through the rain and mud at Trout Lake yesterday there were bigger dogs yet at the offleash part of the park. My companion was amazed that there could be an offleash park where there were nesting birds, and I asked, somewhat rhetorically, if he’d ever been to Trout Lake in the summer time, when it is a warm green hymn to avian fecal material. Given that human beings also swim there (I have seen it, although you wouldn’t catch me in there unless the person next to me was encouraging me with a semi automatic) I don’t imagine the city fathers care if a few birds get harassed. The fewer nesting there the better, and none of them are exactly what I would call endangered species.
While we were there, the tree next to the parking lot was full of birds, all singing as loud as they could simultaneously. The light was crappy, but it sure sounded like starlings and red winged blackbirds having a smackdown. It was so loud that I just stood gaping in the rain.
Samantha got in the water and got very dirty.
When my companion came to pick me up, we attempted a greeting kiss. We both ended up kissing Samantha’s nose. I can’t remember laughing that hard in quite a while. After the park we went to Burnaby Palace (Jeff got the leftovers, so apart from waffles on Saturday morning I dodged cooking every meal this weekend), and had a lovely time.
Church was great yesterday morning, Marci Green did the service, which was about the Grandmothers to Grandmothers campaign.
