Feb 23, 2022 | Editors' Blog, Humour, Memoir, Non Fiction
HEY! WHOSE PARK IS THIS?: A Guide to Off Leash Dog Behavior at the Dog Park
I have learnt it is a very good idea, if you know you have a high-energy dog, to first take him for a long walk so he can be more relaxed in the park.
He will not be so prone to causing trouble and racing around like a lunatic which will generally incite the other dogs and ultimately cause chaos.
When I first started taking Buster to the park, I realized after removing his leash, he just couldn't contain himself and would immediately gravitate to any dog and even more so if they happened to have a toy in their mouth which, if he got lucky, they would drop or he could play tug-of-war.
At some point, he would grab it and start a chase or else find a quiet corner to trash it.
I have had owners shout at me: “Control your dog,” “Tell your dog to drop it,” “That's my dog's favorite ball, it belongs to me” etc. etc.
…In hindsight, the comments are funny but at the time, things can get pretty unpleasant with everyone shouting and then the dogs start reacting to the raised voices and everything escalates.
Naturally, the culprit would just look at me and wonder what we are all carrying on about.
That's my dog!
Have you ever experienced or witnessed this?
C.D. Rahm
Jun 3, 2016 | Humour, 1st pages
Chapter 1
So You Want to Be in I.T.
Whether you’re a seasoned I.T. professional or just breaking into the field, sooner or later you’re going to be looking for a job. Here are some tips on what to look for, what to look out for, and what to absolutely avoid if you want to keep your sanity (which is questionable considering you’re deciding to go into I.T. in the first place).
The Greatest Story Ever Told
Naturally when you are seeking a job, you want to know what the job actually is. The way you’re supposed to find out is by reading something called a job description. Job descriptions are actually works of fiction composed of cute euphemisms to make the position sound good.
Ray Iallonardo
May 27, 2016 | Humour, 1st pages
This is the photo that started it all. I was sitting at the dining room table and had to jot down something, and grabbed the closest Post-it®. I noticed that someone wrote “over” on the backside. Evidently, dad felt he needed to make sure which side of a Post-it people should write on!
Emilio Boechat
May 27, 2016 | Humour, 1st pages
ABOUT WEIGHT SCALES
I was bulimic when a teenager. Fortunately, I have overcome it and today I’m a perfectly ordinary woman. After each meal, I take a laxative.
As every other woman, I got a problem with weight scales. They, same as men, are: mean and blunt, never telling what you expect.
Currently, I’ve discovered an infallible method to lose weight: not eating anything after eight. I wake up, have breakfast, and starve untill bedtime.
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WORKOUT DAY
LUCREZIA wears a leotard and hops up and down while she prepares to leave home. It is quite early in the morning. Her HUSBAND enters the stage just when she is about to set off for the gym.
HUSBAND
(Yawning)
Lucrezia, what time is it?
LUCREZIA
(Excited)
It’s five in the morning, honey.
HUSBAND
(Sleepy)
What are you doing up this early?
LUCREZIA
(Jumping up and down)
Going to the gym! Nothing will stop me from starting my workout! I joined a class last Friday, paid six months in advance and today is my first day!
(Pointing finger at her husband)
I feel sorry for anyone who chooses to stand in my way!
HUSBAND
But why so early?
LUCREZIA
(Angry)
Why so early?
(Outraged)
Why so early? Because it’s impossible to do anything for my own sake after you and the children wake up.
HUSBAND
(Heavy-eyed)
You’re exaggerating!
LUCREZIA
Yes! Exaggerating at my candy, lunch, and dinner eating. The time to diet and work out has come! I refuse to become one of those obese housewives that won’t go to the beach because they are embarrassed to put on a bikini.
HUSBAND
(Sluggish)
You look great!
Julian Worker
May 6, 2016 | Humour, 1st pages
According to the Lindisfarne Chronicles, “Walking the Ways All” was an annual tradition in all Anglo-Saxon towns. The third Thursday in July was set aside for the townsfolk to walk along the common pathways and re-establish their right to frequent these paths. According to the English Common Law, if this annual reclamation wasn’t performed these pathways would become the property of the local landowner, who could then collect tithes from the townsfolk for using the paths.
In 1471 a drunken clerk, Oliver de Turnhouse, misheard the Cleckheaton town crier’s proclamation and so the new tradition began. The town mayor for that year, William de Gradlove, had to walk around the paths dragging a small mammal with sharp teeth behind him. Animal rights not being of top priority, it’s believed that a different weasel was used every year.
One particularly cruel mayor, Edgar Stride, decided to ride around the paths on a horse as he didn’t want to be bitten in the ankle by the weasel. However, his fear caused his death. The weasel’s leash wasn’t quite long enough for it to walk on the ground. Not wishing to be strangled, the weasel fought and writhed against the leash until it managed to sink its teeth into the horse’s haunch.
This powerful nip caused the horse to bolt – Stride was knocked from the horse’s back when it ran under a low branch. Stride hit the ground hard and died from his injuries. His quick-thinking deputy, Mortimer Sanderson, jumped over Stride’s body and managed to pick up the weasel’s leash before it could effect an escape. He walked around the rest of the paths without further mishap. This act of quick-wittedness is now enshrined in the ceremony. Since that day, when the mayors approach the area known as Mortimer’s Leap, they have to sprint for approximately one hundred yards, ensuring that the weasel is keeping up.
Only when the role of ‘The Walking Weasel’ became an officially recognized position in 1661, to commemorate the restoration of the monarchy, did the same weasel perform the ceremony more than once. Indeed, it’s understood that the walk began to appeal to the weasel, as it came across the warrens of the local rabbits, which it could visit at other times of the year. The record for the number of walks undertaken by one weasel is 18 between 1872 and 1889 by Walter the weasel, whose son Barney succeeded him for a further 14 years. The ceremony has been performed nearly 540 times in a continuous line that hasn’t been broken by World Wars, Civil War, or the election of Margaret Thatcher.
Katrina Morgan
Apr 29, 2016 | Humour, 1st pages
September 2nd: Stalking the School Bus
“Oh my God! Stop it!”
I leaned over and yanked his pants up, covering his naked little butt. The need to reprimand warred with the need to laugh, and I bit my tongue. Hard. Spencer, my youngest and overly dramatic child was standing with me on the front porch. We were supposed to be waving goodbye to his older brother, standing as witnesses to his growing up and going to middle school.
It all went terribly wrong.
The day had started as all first days of school start: chaotic, frantic, and nerve-wracking. Michael, anxious about the new school and suddenly being the lowest on the totem pole, had been full of angst. “Do I look alright? I feel like a geek.”
I understood. We’d carefully shopped for the correct clothing and shoes, and bought a cool new book bag along with all the middle school essentials. Still, he was apprehensive. I stopped packing his lunch and paid attention. I took in his appearance, flattened his stubborn cowlick and assured him, “You look great! No worries, I promise.” I gave him a squeeze and went back to shoving the oversized sandwich into a zip-lock bag.” Bear, the dog, and Fat Cat Chance twined between my legs hoping something would drop to the old wooden floor.
I nudged them both aside, and asked the required questions: “Did you get all your supplies? Do you have milk money?”
After he muttered his responses, I grabbed the camera to mark the occasion. “Stand over there by the fireplace so I can take your picture.” I smiled as a good example.
“Moomm, this is stupid.” He groaned even while moving toward the tiny kitchen hearth.
“No, it’s not. You’ll be glad to have these pictures someday.”
Why Moms say such things eludes me. It ranks right up there with “There are starving children in Africa.” Something happens during child birth creating the need to spew these ridiculous statements. We can’t help ourselves. “No, I won’t.” I heard Michael mutter. I clicked away, acting like I didn’t notice and effectively captured what was surely the first of hundreds of eye rolls aimed in my direction.
“Smile!” I yelled once more, hoping for a better snapshot. Spencer, my youngest, stood behind me making faces at his brother.
The foray into the middle school universe was a huge step toward becoming a young man and Michael was adamant about not being walked to the end of the driveway. “I’m not a baby.”
I nodded and tried not to cry. Spencer and I had stationed ourselves on the old porch instead. It was the best compromise I could give. Bear and Fat Cat Chance nosed their way out the crooked screen door, curious as to why we were on the porch. They sat flanking us hoping something fascinating would take place.
Michael stood at the end of the driveway trying to look grown up and aloof. It came across painfully. My tears threatened as the bus shuddered to a stop and the doors swung open.
I waved and smiled. I admit to being momentarily confused by all the other kids pointing out the bus window and laughing. Spencer had opted to send Michael off in style. The little cretin had dropped his pants and was mooning the school bus, shaking his booty and giggling.
“Oh My God!”
