Reflections On a Morning's Dog Walk

Jane the Dane and I hit the pavement early today. I'd had a good sleep. Spent most of yesterday giving Peace a Chance by napping on the couch in the front room with the curtains open.

No bad dreams. And no sore knees keeping me awake half the night thanks to those shark-cartiledge pills. Thank the Lord for old wives and their tales. As for young nubile wives, after half an hour of poking and prodding, I eventually came to the conclusion that I wasn't getting anywhere so I roused the dog and we went for our walk.

A typical London day greeted us. Overcast with just a hint of sun. The kind of day that sets your mood by clicking on the jukebox-in-my-head to 'Out on the Weekend' by the Neiler, the Pride of Omemee. "Think I'll pack it in/And buy a pick-up/Take it down to L.A." Anyone with the confidence to kick off an entire album with that sentiment is okay by me.

A few observations on the walk. That cardboard container that once housed a Presidents Choice Shepherds Pie has moved from near the corner of Stanley and Wortley where it fell out of the recycling box on Garbage Day last week to now being almost halfway across the York Street bridge and on its way downtown.

If your dog does his business in the bushes along the riverside, it seems better for the environment to cover it up with a few dead leaves and let nature take its course rather than waste a plastic bag scooping it up and filling up the landfill sites. We all have to do our part.

The new Spanner billboard at Wortley and Stanley where a new Spanner Girl is wearing bright spring colours, high heels, a long skirt and low-cut top - has already been replaced after only two weeks. By an ad for Jason Sims, the real-estate guru who has his face on billboards all over town.

There is still an election sign up on the Horton Expressway for Ed Holder, of the Progressive Conservative party. From the federal election like last fall. Ed is now our elected Member of Parliament. Okay, Ed. We get it, you won.

Picked up this random scrap of paper from someone's driveway. Three by three inches and cut out of a decorating magazine. The clipped-out part has a bit of an interview with some Hollywood starlet with the initials N.K. I'm guessing it's Nicole Kidman because one of the interviewer's questions is 'What was your first real break?' And NK answers, "My first movie was called 'Bush Christmas'" So it's either Nicole Kidman or Nancy Kay. After all, who can forget 'Bush Christmas'? ... the answer doesn't really matter. What matters is that someone actually took the time to clip this out simply because they thought it was important. Nothing on the other side. Just part of a photo of some Australian-looking chick holding her pet which looks like a cross between a kangaroo and a dingo. And dressed in the bright spring fabrics as foreseen by Spanner.

Since it was a Sunday morning and there wasn't any traffic on the Horton Expressway, Jane and I made our usual Sunday pilgrimage up to Hobo's Vista. For you out-of-staters, 'Hobo's Vista,' is this hill alongside the railway tracks the other side of Wortley and Stanley. It overlooks the River Thames and the Expressway on one side and the train tracks that lead to and from downtown on the other.

You can tell that it's not quite spring yet because there were no empty liquor or beer bottles up there. Nor roll-your-own cigarette butts. Just the view. And the quiet. It's easy to understand why this spot is so popular with hoboes and those just passing through town.

And this morning, of all mornings, it also provided the ideal accompanying visual image. A young guy in a hoodie came a-walking down the tracks from downtown, the early morning sun rising behind him, a pair of earplugs to his IPod or Walkman in his ears as he stared down at the wooden railwsy ties under his feet.

I pulled out the harmonica, Jane started howling and we sang, "See the lonely boy/Out on the weekend/Tryin' to make it pay/Can't relate to joy/He tries to speak and/Can't begin to say."

And you just know The Loner was listening to the same song - "The woman I'm thinkin' of/She loved me all up/But I'm so down today."

I ask you, who makes better Sunday morning hangover music than Neil Young?

An Environmental Horror Story

A bit of excitement at work this morning.

It's my job to empty and sort the materials in the bin from the Overnight Book Returns Chute. On a Tuesday, that's a lot of books because the library has been closed for two days. And lots of DVDs and CDs. The late-fees on those are a lot more than on books and people prefer not to have to pay them. Tryin' to save a dollar.

Anyway, I'm about halfway through and come across a 3-by-8 white envelope. Unaddressed and unsealed. Inside is a hand-written note - "I'm hiding in the boiler room. Waiting for you."

And something else. A severed toe. Not the big guy who likes to go grocery shopping but the little one who goes wee-wee-wee all the way home.

The cops are called. The building is evacuated. No one is found.

The thing is, this particular branch library was built less than five years ago. It's heated by solar energy. There is no boiler room.

And that was the start of my day. And about all we talked about till closing time.

It was late when I got back to the three-floor walk-up I call home. I got my mail from the wall of mail-slots in the lobby. Amoungst the bills and new copy of TV Guide was a white three-by-five envelope. No postmark. No stamp. But this one was addressed. 'To Sonny.' Inside was a severed big toe. No note.

I went upstairs, got my gun and headed down to the boiler room. 'Fuck this shit,' I thought.

I'd had a hard long day. I was hungry. This little piggie just wants to stay home. And have roast beef. And that little piggie will get none.