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.

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.

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.

The Shechyanu

Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe who has kept us alive, and sustained us, and enabled us to reach this festive moment.

It's Zeddie's favourite prayer. Now it's mine too.

Also, I have to say that I'm a big fan of Zeddie as a name. I workshopped this a few years ago — I didn't get very far.

But when Milo was born and Dan saw Zeddie holding him, it just came out.

Dan's good like that. Not today, though. He passed over the seder reins to Zeddie this year (ba dum). Dan said he was "too tired". That's kinda on me. I put him through the ringer the last few weeks. He normally runs a killer Pesach. Auntie Robyn can attest to that. He will again next year. You're all invited. Seriously...just show Zeddie this post and he'll have to let you in. So let it be written, so let it be done. Boom.

Sweet dreams

Dan and I are on our way the park on a gorgeous summer evening. There's a slight breeze, the birds are particularly chirpy and I've finally mastered life on three. We get to the "big hill" and I'm ready for the big test. 

This is my moment of truth.

I sit in front of Dan.

"Water?" he asks.

I don't move. He knows what I want.

He puts the water back in the bag and pulls out the frisbee.

He fires it down the hill. It's a perfect throw. And I'm off.

I push off with back right. I've been strengthening it by hopping in and out of bed. I get a great jump. The frisbee's in sight and I'm keeping up. I dig my front claws into the ground with every gallop to pull myself forward. My front legs are super strong now. And my chest is as big as its ever been. I'm Buff McBufferson. 

I'm tracking the frisbee with hawk-like precision. I can't jump for it anymore so I have to catch it on the fly. But I've done the math: I have to be within seven inches of the frisbee when it's at snout level. That's how far I can stretch my neck forward. I know this because I made Uncle Peter measure it at Passover dinner.

The frisbee hits its high point and it's coming down now. It's spinning counter-clockwise which means I have to approach it slightly from the left so it rotates into my jowl.

I take a quick glance ahead. In a split second, I chart my path. I pick my spot. 83 strides away.

I stretch my neck and kick it into 5th gear. The frisbee's dropping fast but it's on course. And so am I.

This is going to happen. 

Six strides away now.

I open my mouth. I can hear the whiz of the frisbee (the whizbee).

I reach out...

TOUCHDOWN!

I look up and everyone I've ever loved is at the top of the hill cheering me on. Winston and Kenzo and Ella from Trinity. Winnie-Not-Sookie from the Argyle. Jenna, my first dog walker. And even those two RCMP officers from the ferry to PEI. 

And then they shower me with cheese.

Mmm.

Day 1 of Three.

Last night was rough. Sleeping was difficult. Getting comfortable was really difficult. But the worst was putting Dan and Tiia's minds at ease because the yelp I make when I'm looped up on pain meds sounds a lot like the yelp I make when I'm in actual pain.

One thing I can say about a drug-induced haze is your life does flash before your eyes. And mine's been great from the word go. Strangely, I dreamed about my birth father, Punch. He's still going strong and I think he'd be super proud of me. 

I think that's it for today. I need to rest now.

G'nite.

A second chance before a second chance

Yesterday didn't quite go as planned: in the best way possible. Instead of becoming a tri-paw I got one last day on four. And I gotta tell ya, it was EVERYTHING.

The surgery was postponed a day because a test came back later than expected. Good news, though: the result showed that the bump on my head (no...not my dorsal fin — the other smaller and far less cool bump) turned out to be whole lotta nuttin'. So we got the green light for today.

But it was a beautiful day, Dan blew off work and we took a little adventure.

We left the vet and walked up Roncy. This crew stopped us to admire my pink, easter-egg adorned bandage and we got to chatting. I hope Milo and Noah have friends like these guys when they grow up — and that they're in school at 2:30 on a Monday.

From there, we went to the subway. It had been a while since I rode the rails, and it was just as I remembered. Of course, I took the opportunity to meet some new people.

Those last two people have two dogs at home. I sometimes wondered what it would've been like to share Casa Yurkenbaum with another pooch. I wonder if all this has the peeps thinking about my heir apparent? I'm guessing he or she will be another French Water Dog. Obviously, Dan and Tiia would have move to the couch — four in the bed isn't an option.

We got out of the subway and went straight for Cedarvale park. I love it there. I didn't always though. Leaving Trinity Bellwoods was tough. But then I got to know the lay of the land. I discovered the back path. I rolled around in a dead animal or two in the ravine. And I made a few new friends. I got to see Jenn, a dogwalker and an OPB (original park buddy) of mine. She's been walking for years and she's had a few of us three-feeters. She always knows exactly what to say. And she nailed it.

"Maui. You're fit. And you're tough. You're gonna be fine." 

I believe her.

After that, I was okay with this being my last four-legged walk.  I'll learn to do it on three. I'll learn to do a lot on three. Pooing should be interesting.

From there, it was a sun-soaked stroll through the hood, and then home to the young'uns.

And that pretty much sums up life with these two. Milo and I love to share space. We're comfortable just being. Noah's right up in there. Both equally awesome.

And then evening...and then morning...and then...

See you on the other side.

BTW: If this is you, I have a few questions.

And we're back.

Well...it's been a long while since I jumped on here, but I'm gonna have some time now (hopefully more than less), so why not jump back in, right?

That's me and Dan and Dundas West Animal Hospital this morning. I've been coming here for a while, but more frequently recently as I've developed a nasty case of cancer in my leg. And from what I understand, they're going to be removing it today. This was obviously quite a shock to me, and more so for Dan and Tiia who haven't been handling the news particularly well.

But I think it's important, as I get back into this blogging thing, that I'm up front and honest : this is100% the right thing for me (because, as Dan likes to say, the alternative is much worse). As much as I'd like to see Woofy and Jackson and Diana and Cairo again, I'm not quite ready yet. So Tiia, please know that I'm not upset about this. 

Now, having said all that, I do have a few demands:

1. More cheese.

I used to get a lot of it. I used to dream about it. But then one of vets here (I won't name names) said the amount I was getting was "bad for me" or something like that. But, I mean, come on...

2. More frisbee.

Over the last few years, Dan and Tiia have been worried about my blowing out an ankle or a knee so they've been less inclined to fire the frisbee down the hill. Enough of that. I've worked pretty hard to become a frisbee dog, and one less leg isn't going to stop me. So if you bring it, so will I.

3. More questions.

Back when I was blogging a bit more regularly, I'd get some doozies. Keep'em coming! I have all the time in world now to answer them.

4. No more fentanyl

That was not fun.

Ok...I think that's it for now. It's time to go from four to three. I'll be back with an update in a bit.

Much love...and glad to be back at this. I think it's good for me. I'm sure it's good for Tiia. And I know it's good for Dan.

PS: Happy birthday Uncle Peter!

Preemptive Protesting

There are rumours of a back deck coming. This displeases me for a few reasons. Firstly, I like to be consulted on all home improvements, since I spend more time here than anybody. It was bad enough when the peeps decided to get the white couch they subsequently forbade me from sitting on — although I managed to wear them down on that one.

Secondly, a deck would rob me of my favourite backyard spot: the mud pit under the table.

At first, I thought about voicing my displeasure, but this new bark collar I now wear (story for another post) put the kaibash on that.

So, in protest, I'll be moving from the pit directly to the white couch as often as I can until this deck comes in. 

Booya.

A public service announcement

If you meet me on the street, I suggest that you scratch my chin in addition to petting my head. You'll get a much bigger smile from me, which'll make your day that much brighter.

Sincerely,

Maui

Dog log

I found this bad boy in the park the other day and carried it all the way home. I'm thinking if I bring enough of them back, Dan'll build me a doghouse. Then I watched him build an IKEA stool. I really should be bringing these to Uncle Peter's place.

Sad = Happy

I realized very early on in my life that I could use my sunny disposition to get whatever I want. More bum-rubs? Flash a smile. Longer walk? Flash a smile. Cheese? You got it...flash a smile. It never fails.

Lately, though, I've been watching how Milo and Noah (my baby bros) get what they want — and they take a different approach: they cry.

At first, I thought there was no way it was going to work on my peeps, given how prone they've been to rewarding happiness. Boy was I wrong. Crying gets them everything.

Now, I'm not one to mess with a good thing, but given my experimental nature (yeah, I drank a White Russian at a party one time just to see what it would do*), I thought I'd give it a try.

So for the last few weeks, I've been working on my sad face. It was tough to pull off given how unnatural it is for me, but I worked hard to perfect it.

I started by trying to fill my head with sad thoughts. Of course, my life's pretty charmed, so I had to strain to come up with a few.  I thought of friends no longer with us, like Wicket and Jackson and Ishii. That worked for a bit, until I thought of the big dog park in the sky and how they were all horsing around together, which made me smile. Dammit.

Next, I thought about how I was turning 10 this year. Surely, that would make me sad. But then that got me thinking about all the great times I've had over the past decade. Smiling again. Crap.

Ok, new plan. I had to think about something that had no upside whatsoever — something that could only bring me down:  never being allowed to see Bubbika and Zeddy's place because of their building's stupid no-dog rules. I thought about every time Dan and Tiia and Milo and Noah came home from there happy, and how I'd never be able to partake in the fun. Downside? Plenty. Upside? None. There. Sad.

I kept that thought in my head for two weeks. Every time something happy crossed my mind, I thought of missing out on the grandparent fun. It took dedication, but it worked. I had made myself sad.

I wasn't sure it was working, but then Lianne came by and noticed that I looked sad. Success! Now I had to test it. I thought I'd start with something small like a treat. It'd been a while since I had one, and even longer since I "convinced" the peeps to get me one.

Last Friday, my chance came when we walked by Bam! Dogwash and Pet Boutique. I knew this was my chance because we never go in there (even though I stop in front of the door every time). But this time would be different. I stopped at the door, looked back at the peeps and thought really hard about not being able to go to Passover this year.

And sure enough....

Bam! indeed.

* I ran around in circles for about five minutes, then passed out in the park. Good times.

Heart to Heart

Baby Noah: Why is Dad taking our picture?
Me: It's for the dogblog?
Baby Noah: The what?
Me: The dogblog. It's the story of our life together.
Baby Noah: Can you tell him to put the camera down and change my diaper? It's a bit ripe.
Me: I'll see what I can do.

Daydreaming

I'm walking through a forest. There's a slight drizzle. I come across a little hut. The doormat has "Welcome Maui" written on it. Hey...that's my name! I think I'll open the door.

Wait. No thumbs. Hmmm...

Ok, I can figure this out. I have a diploma in something similar to problem-solving. Think.

Think.

Think! Head! I'll knock on the door with my head. And I'll use my dorsal fin. I knew it'd come in handy eventually.

Knock Knock.

Ow.

Crap.

Knock knock.

OW!

Come on...I don't want to have to do this a th...footsteps!

Someone's coming! I wonder who it is? Maybe it's someone from my past? Is it a dog from my past? Dhaja? Kenzo? Winston? YoYo? I wish it could have been Jackson or Wicket or Ishii Or Woofie. Sad.

Maybe its not about the past at all? The future? A fresh face? What if it was someone famous like Obama? I love him. I'm sad to see him go. His waterdog's about the same age as me. I think Bo and I would get along well. But he'd have to change his name because we already have a Bo in our life. Of course, I'd offer to workshop a new name with him.

Footsteps. My lord this is taking a long time. It's not that big of a hut.

Finally.

The door opens. It's a chipmunk. Didn't see that coming.

"Hi Maui. We've been expecting you."

Hmmm...didn't expect that either.

"You're a talking chipmunk!"

"You're a talking dog."

Fair point.

"Maui, we prepared you a snack: chevre-stuffed mozzarella balls drizzled, wrapped in brie and drizzled with melted gouda.

Yup, that just about covers all the cheese groups. Except stinky cheese. But that's okay — my regular food stinks enough as it is. And then, of course, there's the effect.

"Great. Is it snack time?"

"What you think we'd make it that easy?"

"No, but I thought I might do. It's my daydream."

"Clearly you have some unresolved achievement issues you have to work through. Succeeding here may help you address some of them."

"Or it'd get me a bite of chevre-stuffed mozzarella balls drizzled, wrapped in brie and drizzled with melted gouda."

"True."

"OK then, so how do I make it snack time?"

"You have to say the magic word."

"Please."

"Come on."

"Um...ok...um....he's a chipmunk. He's brown with a white stripe. Um...he has big eyes and a bushy tail. Wait! He has buckteeth. No, that's nothing.

Think. This is your daydream. If you were going to give a Chipmunk a magic word, what would it be.

I've got it. I pull the chipmunk closer — close enough to read his name tag. Chip. CHIP?  No way my daydream is that first level. Wait, that's just his animal name code. His name's Horatio. I can dig that. Way better than Chip.

"Ho...can I call you Ho?" I said.

"No."

"Ho, I know the magic word."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do. I know it because I created it. This is my daydream, so the magic word's in my head. Just gotta find it.  Gimme a minute.

...

...

...

I've got it!

"The magic word is "Orange."

"Amazing! How'd you know?"

"The same reason you're now a Chipmunk wearing a pair of khakis, a fedora and a mezuzah around your neck."

"And what reason is that?"

"Because I make the rules here. It's my daydream. And I say it's snack time."

"Well, then it's snack time. Jaques!"

Jaques? There's a Jaques?

Hey! It's the mouse from the cheese tree. Awesome! I was hoping to see him again.

"Maui, let me show you to your table."

Great...it's about time. I can't wait to take a bite out of Téo Leoni.

Huh?

Téo Leoni?

Crap. I'm awake. At least Madam Secretary is on.

Come on...get it back.

Chipmunk. Mouse. chevre-stuffed mozzarella balls drizzled, wrapped in brie and drizzled with melted gouda. Nope. Too hungry to sleep. Maybe

I'll angle for a cheese string. It's not the same. But neither is the real world.

Toys of the trade

Dan got me an orange frisbee. I think he chose it match Milo's orange basketball. I'm thinking it's going to become our family colour, which I'm more than happy with because, well, because every family needs a colour. I think I'm going to start angling for an orange leash to keep the theme going. I just have to wait for the peeps to lose the leashes I have now, which shouldn't take too long. They've already lost one this year and it's only March.

That's it for now.

Bad dog

I rolled in dead animal today. Tiia was unimpressed. I think she'd feel differently if she tried it. That's it.

A white couch? Really?

Some dogs I know are never allowed up on the furniture. I'm not one of those dogs. Dan and Tiia tried to make me one of those dogs way back when they learned that Barbets were also know as "mud dogs", but that was never going to happen. I'm far too cute and cuddly, and way too good at getting what I want.

You'd think the peeps would have learned from our old white couch that they had to have cleaned repeatedly. It appears they have short memories because here we go again...a white couch.

You'd also think that having two kids would have dissuaded this kind of choice. Nope. Instead, they just cover it with blankets and pray that nothing spills on it. So far so good, actually.

A glimpse into the future

This is my birth father, Punch. He turned 13 this week. Check out the grey. I wonder if that's where I'm heading? Tiia tells me I have a few greys on my back and in my ears. I'll have to take her word for it, as they're the two places on my body I'll never see. 

Tiia's solution: pluck the hairs and show them to me. 

Dan's response: "Don't fall for that. I let her pluck me in 2002 and she's still going."

I think I have to go with Dan on this one.

See Spot Run

This is Spot. He lives down the street. I guess he got his name because of his coat. Had I been named for my coat, I might have been Curly. Or maybe Matt? But probably not Matt because we already know a Matt. Coincidentally, he has a pretty serious barbe too (Barbe means beard in French, hence Barbet).

Spot and I had a pretty good stare down the other morning. I tried to wait until he moved first before I pounced, but his patience wore me down. I jumped. He ran. Dogs pounce back. I way prefer that — especially in the morning when I need a little bit of a mono-a-mono.

There's always tomorrow.

Milo's Dog

I've gone by a few names in my life.

First I was Bart, son of Punch and proud resident of the Cour Ailée — one of the first Barbet breeders in Canada. I'm a Barbet — otherwise known as a French Water Dog. We're like Portuguese Water Dogs, only ruder and less useful in battle.

My first family lived in Montreal and called me Pirate — en français as pee-RAT. Of course, I didn't know how funny that sounded at the time. But when Patrick and Jezebel (yup, Jezebel) got divorced, and Patrick got custody of me and both the boys, he knew he couldn't handle it all. He called the Cour Ailée and asked them to find me a new home.

They found Dan and Tiia. And that's when I got my next name:  Maui "The Hawaiian Pirate" Yurkenbaum. It's perfect. I think I look like a Maui. I also think I look like a muppet version of Rick James. Pirate, is, of course a nice homage. And the Yurkenbaum's an interesting story. Dan's a Yurman. Tiia's a Birkenbaum. Together, they're Yurkenbaums. They have a family crest. It has my paw print on it.

I was the first Yurkenbaum. I went by by Maui, Maui Muffin, Mauzer and The Maui Monster. I tried out Chairman Mau for a time, but it didn't feel right. 

Kai was the second Yurkenbaum. He's the fish. He's been reincarnated a few times — first as Kaitoo then as Kaitrey and now as Kaitro.

Milo was the third. The Kai's and I have worked hard to make sure Dan and Tiia remember that, but didn't take long for us to lose our top banana status.  Milo called me Munya for a while — which I've  since adopted as my Yiddish name.

The other day outside of Hippo, I was introduced as "Milo's Dog Maui". That's my new favourite. MDM. I can see that monogramed on my new leash. Ahem.