True story...

I was in a meadow. There was a little tree in the middle. I walked up to it and noticed that on the little branches of the little tree were 87 little cheese shops; each offering a different kind.

I slowly scanned through my options. The smelly cheeses tended to be towards the ends of the branches (I assume for ventilation's sake), while the soft cheeses were almost all next to the trunk, which worked out well for bark dipping. It was too much choice, too much pressure! Where to begin?

Found My Marbles was snugly situated on the tree's west side, about three quarters up, and next door to The Jolly Jarlsberg and Gouda, Wouda, Shouda; and it felt right. I knocked on the door and a little mouse in an orange and yellow chef's hat promptly answered. "We've been expecting you, Maui Monster" he said as the wonderful smell of his creations tickled my nose. "I knew you'd come here first so I had Jacques prepare you an amuse-bouche". He went behind the door and returned with a perfectly shaped sliver. He brought it towards my salivating mouth, and just as I opened wide to receive it, a parade of soccer fans went past my window and woke me up with their car horns, vuvuzelas and drunken cheering after a 0-0 result.

How do you say "I want my Cheese Tree back" in Portuguese?

That all natural copper look

I used to be all about showing off my beard, but now I think the 'stache is my facial piece de resistance. How great is the colour? I was a bit concerned a while ago when I started going grey on my back, but this has totally reaffirmed my follicular faith. I wonder if this is a Barbet thing or a me thing? I'm going with the latter because I like feeling special. Speaking of special, Dan gave me some of the good cheese today. Not sure what I did to deserve it but it probably wasn't rolling around in the smelly pile at Trinity – although it'd be really great if it was. Only one way to find out...

H2O my god that's cold!

"Look, I could tell you that it's just as awesome to be a herder or a digger or a climber or even a retriever. But then you'd notice my webbed feet, my non-shedding coat, my dorsal fin and how much faster than you I can swim – and you'd know that I was lying to your face, which would damage our relationship, which would be the worst. So instead, I'll just tell you the truth: one day, you'll wish you were a water dog. And no one will judge you because you'd be right to feel the way you do. Trust me."

That's what I think every year after my first swim of the summer.

Life can be fun when you've got nowhere to be.

Every once in a while, I get the insatiable need to annoy Dan. My method of late is to get really excited about playing frisbee, make one catch, then cop a squat and make him come to me.

The best part is when he attempts to stand his ground, as if he thinks I don't have the time to wait him out. Actually, that's the second best part. The best part is when he says something like "well, it's your loss", because it's so not.

Country livin'

Dan, Tiia and I went up to Cairo's place in Stoufville the other week for a day in the sun. I gotta tell ya, I could get used to life out of the city. It's not that I don't like being a WQW dog – the neighbourhood is great, I've got a lot of good friends here and the food I find on the street is lovely – but the thought of hanging out in a back yard is dreamy.

I overheard Tiia saying that she was gonna spend most of the summer in the Malbonoff's back yard. It's a good first step.

The new man of the house

This is the Burning Man. He was a birthday gift to Tiia from La Groupe. I've tried getting to know him but he's been remarkably unresponsive.