4 and 5

There is nothing like a fresh snowfall to open up opportunities to be kind.

I have a golden retriever, Jackson; he is a ball dog to the end. Jackson has the uncanny ability to hear a ball being picked up, you could pick up a book, a coffee cup or a hat and he will lay there… a big gorgeous golden reddish carpet, his ears pouring like velvet onto the floor, lost in some deep dog thought. When a ball is picked up, unannounced, gently plucked from its resting place into your hand and it’s a cell phone ringing “sexy and I know it” in church, an mc calling wedding guests to the buffet, a lock tumbler turning on the electronics store door on boxing day – suddenly you see the hunting dog alert and at the read, eyes transfixed on the sphere of wonder in your hand. Is there a heaven for dogs? Why, yes there is, it’s the Chuckit! Factory.  Cock your hand back and the golden jet will launch with his head cocked towards the heavens looking for his precious, nothing will deter or dissuade him from his mission, not oncoming dogs, pedestrians or vehicles, he is transfixed and lost in the moment.

When white flakes begin their descent from heaven my ears start to tingle, my body grows restless and I come to attention like Jackson anticipating his ball, my eyes darting from shovel to walk shovel to walk shovel to walk… waiting for my moment to throw my 10lb snow boots on and launch into a shoveling frenzy.

I have a friend, one who I don’t really like, but is with me till the end, like it or not, and this friend is named – fibromyalgia. What is fibromyalgia? Pain. Pain set off by many things but quite strongly by physical exertion… like shoveling snow. You’d think screaming pain would be a strong deterrent but you probably haven’t seen Jackson stare at a ball.

Waking to a chorus of aches and pains from the typical erratic Calgary weather system and insomnia tried its best but I was up and out shoveling the block early in the morning. As I climbed up the steps to my porch I looked across the street and noticed my neighbors driveway was in need of shoveling. Across the street lives a wonderful woman whose husband’s immigration is still in limbo while she attends school and lives her with their two daughters as he remains in China, visiting once a year. I marched across the street, cleared her driveway and had a good chat with her, she has completed her veterinary tech schooling and hasn’t had any success in her job search, and sometimes it’s nice to have company, not finding steady employment isn’t one of them.

I think one of the really cool things about Warren was his ability to chat up anybody, literally anybody, this was a very valuable skill in running The Attic as you couldn’t help but be drawn back to the incredibly curious shop and it’s equally charming curator. One had to be careful what they wished for as they were sure to find it on their returning trip. As Jack Nicholson said in playing the Joker in the Batman movie, “where does he get those wonderful toys?”

If the ball is Jackson’s first love, the second is dog cookies. When he hears his cookie box rustle, slide or open he is at immediate attention. It’s become a fun ritual in giving Jackson a cookie, I tuck the biscuit into my pocket, pour myself a coffee, tidy the kitchen a little and the casually walk into the living room as if I totally forgot I had a pocket of puppy treat nirvana.  Jackson looks at me, his ears perked up, his head tilted, watching me like a commissioned cell phone sales clerk poised to leap on the first set of fingers to dance across the latest smarty pants phone. I then check my pockets as though I have forgotten where…. Where is that cookie? I know I had it here, aha! Found it. By the time I get the cookie out, Jackson has a string of elastic drool hanging down from his lip, swinging with the breeze but not breaking, his body vibrating as I hand him the cookie and he just slightly opens his mouth as if he’s afraid to bite it… then it’s gone in like 10 seconds. Literally. You can count it off.

I don’t know how to spell the sound of car tires spinning in snow and ice, but that sound, that is my cookie box, and tonight as my wife and my three daughters watched X Men First Class, I heard it. Someone was stuck. Someone was stuck in the snow. Someone was stuck, in the snow… on my block! I was very sore from the shoveling, the weather change, and the stress of – where and when am I going to get back to full time work… at one job? ONE job? So I let it go. My neighbor has a bizarre ritual where he spins his tires forward and backward, rocketing towards our van then back towards the little SUV behind him… over and over again. I once went to push him out, only to find – he’s crazy. It wasn’t him. I ignored it. Tried to. My wife said, “no, we have company tomorrow and if you go push him out, you’ll be in agony.” 10 or 15 minutes goes by and nobody has gone to help this guy. I am dumbfounded and I the need to go help is tearing me up inside, my wife says “go ahead.” I run out with two shovels and this guy has torched a good amount of his all season biscuits while he’s high centered on a pile of frozen nasty snow. I dig. He digs. I push. I drive and he pushes. I dig. He digs…. You get the idea. It has now become my mission to get his guy out, anything less is failure. An hour later and he gives up, shuts the car down, thanks me profusely and as we set to pack up show two cars drive by and this time people get out and we get behind this moored corolla and push as the 15 inch boots send smoke out the front of the boring but reliable econobox, and he is finally freed!

So I sit at the end of the day hammering out this blog update and I see a post by Warren’s daughter Bella, it’s on a bright pink sticky note, “50 is the minimum but change the world with more!” And I thought about Warren. And I thought about Bella. And I thought about Bella, losing her dad, losing her Superman and writing this note and I cried and as I write this now I’m crying again. Bella has more strength and more courage and more selfless heart in her tiny little body than I can possibly imagine. I look at that little pink post it note and all my complaints and worries come into perspective. Writ this down. Go get a rock and a chisel and write this down. Bella will change the world. Some cranky people bemoan the future generation and the future of the world. I think it’s going to be ok. God bless you Bella. God bless you Kai. God bless you Danielle. Thanks Warren, for being here even when you’re gone on ahead of us.