Tuesday, April 17, 2018

A correction.


A few years ago, I got an interesting Ask The Maui Monster question about preparing for life with kids. My last piece of advice to him was:

"As for becoming second fiddle, I don't think you have to worry. But just in case, you may want to be extra nice. I, for example, have started spending nights on the floor next to the bed rather than on it, draped over Dan and Tiia. I'm sure this gesture will not go unnoticed when their time comes."

I'd like to redact this, as nothing about it was accurate. I became second fiddle immediately, then third fiddle shortly thereafter. Also, sleeping on the floor? Yeah right.

On a related note, Milo told Dan the other day that he thought he was a cat person. I wonder if that means we're getting a cat?

I can't be fourth fiddle.



Sunday, April 8, 2018

Ask The Maui Monster...


Dear Maui Monster...

Your story's inspired me — so much so that I want your vet to be my vet. Also, I don't love my vet. Too many cats. My people are moving next month, so I'm thinking this is a good chance to push them in a different direction. How should I approach this? 

- Dundas Envy


Hi Dundas Envy...

Thanks for the question. And yeah, you SHOULD want my vet to be your vet, 'cause the docs at Dundas West are amazing. And when say amazing, I mean fantabulously, phonmeniminally, stupenditiously amazing.
Dr. Bainbridge (my "family doc") and Dr. Kilburn (lady with the sharp knife)

After my surgery, when Dan was a mess and didn't have the strength or alertness to look after me, the DuWe crew let me hang out there all day for three full days. They took turns chillin' with me on the floor, takin' me out for air and toppin' up those lovely pain meds.

Funny thing about vets: the more you go, the more comfortable you feel there. Not so much with the groomer.

But I digress....

If you want to move your file to Dundas West, here's what you do:

Step 1: Get your peeps to turn on your current vet.
To do this, you have to create a bit of anxiety.

So next time you're in an examination room and your vet comes in, hide under the table and make your vet literally drag you out. Now, it's important NOT to resist. Go limp so your people see the vet drag your "lifeless" body into the centre of the room. Yeah, it's a bit manipulative, but so effective. It's one of those things no one can un-see...like when Dan saw me peeing on a lady's wheelchair.

Anyway, once that image is burned into your peoples' heads, your vet is subliminally tarnished for life. That's not to say they'll rush home to google "new vets," but they'll definitely be open the idea. This leads you to...

Step 2: Put Scott Bainbridge on your peoples' radar.
I credit Dr. B. with turning my people on to turning me on to cheese. That alone should be enough, but if it isn't, here's some more ammo: he runs a kids future vet camp; he always sits on the floor with me; and he's handsome with a great smile.

Of course, your people are gonna need more than that to switch vets — perhaps something so practical or awesome that it's worth the drive to Dundas and Roncy...like the lunch menu at Barque. It's a few doors down. And the name's...well...pretty perfect.





Step 3: Pick a fight at Dog Hill in High Park.
Now, for this to happen, you have to get yourself to High Park...and it's remarkably easy to do this time of year because of the cherry blossoms. But, because (I'm guessing) you haven't mastered speech yet, you'll have to "suggest" a visit. Here are a few ways to do that:

1. Pick a white flower out of someone's garden and show it to your people (upside: easy connection, downside: possible shoe thrown at you by a stranger).

2. Pick a cherry out of someone's picnic basket and show it to your people (upside: where there's picnic baskets, there's almost always meat and cheese, downside: see above).

3. Spell out "cherry blossoms at high park" using individual pieces of kibble while your people are at work (pros: on the nose, cons: same).

When you get to High Park, you'll no doubt get to Dog Hill. No one goes to High Park and doesn't go to Dog Hill It'd be like taking a trip to Amsterdam and not going to the Clara Maria Kaas & Klompenmakerij. Insane, I know.

When you get to Dog Hill, look for the biggest, baddest bruiser and throw down. You'll have to stand in there long enough to get scratched or bitten. But when you do, and your peeps ask the other peeps there about the closest vet, at least one of them'll mention Dundas West.  Of course, your people will remember the name from the all the Bainbridge material you fed them and the circle will be complete.

You'll go there, your people will fall in love, and that'll be that.

Monday, April 2, 2018

A Three Like Me!


This is Sydney. She's lives down the street from me.  She's been walking around with a big-ass grin on her face for as long as I've known her. I used to wonder if I'd be the same way. Turns out, I would be.

We got to chatting last night and I got a few pointers. She said the big thing she had to get used to was people feeling sorry for her. And I get it. I have people all over the place feeling sorry for me because I'm on three.

For the record, the only reason anyone should ever feel sorry for me is because I lost my seat in the car.