First We Take Toronto

Guest Blogger: Bailey Schmailey

2007-06-26T12:59:00.000-04:00

In my benevolence, I have decreed that Schmailey will be the story-teller of our epic voyage to the dog park. He knows that, should he let me down, I will have no choice but to eat out of his dish for the rest of his stay in Toronto. Read on...

Hell-lo! While Suki, being the old dog that she is, is passed out under the coffee table, I will do some show and tell about the park. As with most walks, this is how our adventures begin:

After an unventful walk down to the park, we settled in. I quickly made friends with my buddy, Bill. He's a pretty cool guy, but as with so many of my colleagues in the dog world, Bill proved to be fickle.

Bill! Biiiiiiiiiiiiill! Oh look, Cheerios! Hey everybody, there are snacks growing in this patch of grass over here!

Eph and Anne-Marie are cool, although not as cool as Kathy and Boberino (see my post below regarding the snacking issue). However, Eph did bring some treats to the park, which Suki and I appreciated.

Of all the ways that we've distinguished ourselves at the dog park, this one is definitely the best.

We're pretty much celebrities around there.

Suki in one of her better moments.

Dog park aftermath.

The Money Shot

2007-06-25T14:10:00.000-04:00

My publicist recommends that I put out this photo. Some have accused me of having work done, but I think we all know that this face is free of Botox and plastic surgery.

S.O.S.

2007-06-22T11:07:00.000-04:00

Boberino, Kathy, please come get me. It's not that I don't love the dog park, the squirrels, barking at my own reflection in the windows or the television, but Suki is one grumpy dog. If I go near her sitting on the couch or even if she's on MY bed, she growls at me! Seriously?! Growling at me from my own bed? We had some good times there on Zancada when you freezed us out of the cabin while you had a dinner party, but now it's like we're strangers. Also, the quantity and quality of snacks in Toronto is rather appalling. Eph's gone for the weekend, so there's not even a corn chip to be found on the floor. This morning I had to settle for hoovering up some mueslix. Oats? Really?! The only solace I find is creeping right onto Anne-Marie's pillow and settling in there while she sleeps...

Let's get something straight

2007-06-22T10:32:00.000-04:00

My communications director (pictured at left), who has been woefully neglectful in recording my life and times, has an office mate from Monday through Thursday. Needless to say, blogging at work is discouraged, but she is free to post on Fridays, hence the flurry of information. Please be patient; I have docked her pay and curtailed her sleep immensely, but I'm still working on wearing down her spirit in the hopes of complete and utter compliance.

I'm with Stupid

2007-06-22T10:09:00.001-04:00

There has been some talk among the lackeys (Anne-Marie and Eph) that I am "difficult" or "crazy" for not willingly succumbing to my Halti-collar before I take them on walks. However, I would like to point out the following and then open up the floor for comment:

I don't share dog beds in Toronto

2007-06-22T10:06:00.000-04:00

What?

My Chauffer

2007-06-22T09:55:00.000-04:00

Boberino, to whom I owe a debt of gratitude for taking me on dinghy rides to shore and for flying me around to my various estates, had a long trip up from Georgia to Toronto. I gave him the night off when we arrived at my Canandian condo.

I'm BAAAAACK!

2007-06-11T13:10:00.000-04:00

Having rested and relaxed quite a bit over the past month and a half, I am now ready to resume my blog posts from Toronto. As we speak, my scribe is typing these short musings, but I will land in Toronto at about 6:00 p.m. from my international travels in the Bahamas, Georgia and the wilds of Birmingham, Alabama. Please stay tuned for pictures, accounts of my exploits, dead squirrel tallies (current score is Suki: 3, squirrels: 0), and invaluable pearls of wisdom.

Until tomorrow, my friends.

P.S. Kathy, that was so uncool of you to pack us into the plane and then stay behind. I know you just want to have the remote control all to yourself, but we could have sent Bob and Bailey off on their own!

The Reckoning

2006-11-30T10:28:00.000-05:00

As time marches inexorably towards the day when I crush Schmailey like cream cheese, I feel it’s necessary to justify my outrage at being so coldly usurped. “Why?” you ask, “Why is does your anger run so deep?” And I offer this as inexorable proof of Kathy and Bobarino’s lack of decency and, frankly, dignity:

Just a few months ago, the couch on Cedar Ridge looked like this:

You see it, right? He looks just like me. HE LOOKS JUST LIKE ME! I'M COMING UNGLUED HERE!

Bobarino, I don't even know what to say to you.

Suki: 1, Squirrels: 0

2006-11-06T10:22:00.000-05:00

Ding dong, the squirrel’s dead!
Which old squirrel? The nasty squirrel!
Ding dong the nasty squirrel’s dead!

Everybody now!

Wake up, sleepy head; rub your eyes, get out of bed.
Wake up, the nasty squirrel’s dead!
It’s gone where my poop sacks go,
In the trash, below, below…

Sing it with me!

Ding dong, the merry-oh
Sing it high, sing it low,
Let them know
The nasty squirrel’s dead!

And…take five everybody. Good work, folks, good work. Make sure you know the dance steps by next rehearsal.

Well, in case the news in your area has been dominated with trivial things like “mid-term elections” and “dictators being sentenced to death,” let me fill you in on the real news: I killed a squirrel. I’m a squirrel killer. I kill.

First of all, someone is clearly intimidated by my prowess, because I was poisoned—poisoned, I tell you!—this weekend. Monarchs don’t go into the details of their gastrointestinal problems, but let’s just say it was coming out of both ends with alarming frequency. Should a certain interloper in Georgia think that he can orchestrate hits on me while in the kennel, please be advised that I now have food tasters, and Anne-Marie and Eph will be sampling all that is put in front of me from here on out. Schmailey, don’t get too comfortable—I’m returning to my Georgia estate for the holidays, and there will be a reckoning, so help me God.

In spite of the fact that I puked three successive times at about 5:30 a.m. on Saturday morning and then had to be taken out to relieve myself in the cold, dark morning, my iron will prevailed. Much like Michael Jordan in Game 5 of the 1997 NBA Finals, I suited up for game time. Whining conspicuously, scratching the door, Eph and Anne-Marie were fooled into thinking I had to take yet another bathroom break. Leash on, poop bag in hand, they led me to my recreational facility, known colloquially as “Washington Huron Park,” where I spied my nemeses, grouped in droves on my property.

Huddling behind the perceived safety of the wrought-iron fence, two squirrels in particular nattered on mindlessly to one another, frolicking like fools in the piles of fallen leaves. Hunched in stalking position, I skulked closer with panther-like stealth, eyes narrowed and locked on my prey. Waiting, waiting, I patiently let them continue their chatter until the final second when I sprang into full sprint towards them.

They froze for a deadly moment, wide-eyed in terror, as I came closer and closer. One had the presence of mind to leap up into a tree, but the other ran for the fence, stupidly thinking it could squeeze through the chain link. But no, I caught it by the tail, dragged it into the open, seized it in the vice-grip of my chompers and shook like no squirrel has ever been shaken before. It squealed, trying to squirm free, and Anne-Marie and Eph—traitors!—came running to its aid. But they, like the other squirrels who looked on in horror from the trees, were not to win this day. Clenched in my jaws, I thrashed and thrashed until the death rattle sounded and the rodent, deemed a “two pounder” by Anne-Marie, went lifeless. Evading Anne-Marie and Eph’s multiple attempts to wrest the corpse from my grip, I buried my enemy in the dirt under a jungle gym as the rest of the park stood silent and still.

Let this be a warning to all squirrels: I will tolerate your presence no more. You, the pigeons and the raccoons will no longer operate your Axis of Evil, and I am prepared to pre-emptively invade surrounding neighborhoods to protect what is rightfully mine (as designated by the telephone poles and fire hydrants I’ve peed on).

Journalists and the public should direct all inquiries to my press secretary, Fresno. I bid you good day.

2006-10-19T10:43:00.000-04:00

That's right, I went there.

2006-10-19T10:32:00.000-04:00

I thought we had something, Boberino. You can just go ahead and eat that bowl of dirt.

Bailey Shmailey

2006-10-19T10:25:00.000-04:00

And that's all I have to say about that.

Snacktime Tutorial 101

2006-10-02T21:05:00.001-04:00

Now, misunderstand not: I love my native land of Georgia, "Mother Georgia" as I call her, but there are things to be said for this New World I have conquered to the north. Yes, yes, the indigenous people are a bit too fond of plaid flannel and all things related to hockey, but I believe they can be taught to love and fear me as they should. As long as they keep dropping food, I believe we can work out a suitable arrangement.

Preface aside, everyone sit down and be quiet, for class shall begin momentarily. Please wait a moment while I lick this interesting thing on the floor that you, mere human, cannot see. And...finished. You in the back, pipe down! Silence!

LESSON #1: Cities are good for snacks. And when I say "snacks," I mean "things that one can eat straight off the sidewalk." Case in point: just today, I encountered a pile of what appeared to be Lucky Charms on the concrete, fortuitously placed near a crosswalk where we conveniently stopped to wait for the light to change. Anne-Marie attempted to wrench me away from the aforementioned pile of sugar-laden General Mills goodness, but she was duped (hah!) by the short leash she kids herself is reigning me in. Please, I use such "fetters" to my advantage. When will they ever learn?

LESSON #2: Strategically plan your route. Oh sure, sylvan walks in parks of rolling hills are great, but if there aren't hotdog vendors placed at close intervals throughout the place, kiss your chances of epicurean grazing goodbye. Therefore, I enjoy urban centers most for the plethora of opportunities and variety. On Bloor Street alone, I move from falafel to Indian to Thai to Italian in fewer than two or three blocks. I had to unbelievable fortune to stroll through Chinatown last weekend, and I was in snacktime heaven (dumplings, my God, the dumplings!) until Anne-Marie decided she'd play Joan of Arc and pick me up "for fear of me getting pancaked by ladies with shopping carts." Honestly.

LESSON #3: Leave no styrofoam container unsniffed. I am fully aware that dogs' cognitive capabilities put Stephen Hawking's to shame, but I even surprised myself with the speed at which I learned that those white containers more often than not contain goodies of every kind. Oh sure, some of it has been out on the concrete for awhile, but I never eat steaks that are aged fewer than 4 months.

LESSON #4: Know your allies. As my final bestowal of wisdom, I choose to emphasize this most important element of snacking. While strolling Queen Street on a Sunday morning, I happened upon a goldmine for snack hunters: a whole hamburger patty. Savoring it joyously, I could not help but let the sounds of pleasure escape from my lips, only to alert Anne-Marie and ignite her insane jealousy. Ravenous for a taste, clawing at my prize, shouting, "Put it down. PUT. IT. DOWN!" she attempted to wrest this gem from my mouth, but a group of homeless gentlemen sitting on a stoop nearby began to cackle at her feeble attack. As her cheeks colored to a tomato red, I could tell her spirit was lost, and I chewed on in glee. The matter was made still worse for her when one of the gentlemen offered her a napkin, which she reached for, and then he yanked it away, and the group of vagrants laughed some more. Fellow comrades, you shall not be forgotten.

That's it, my pupils. Office hours are as posted on my office door, and do not forget that your 15-page essays are due in precisely one week. I bid you adieu.

It Was the Best of Walks, It Was the Worst of Walks

2006-09-21T14:57:00.000-04:00

Well, the inevitable happened: Eph locked himself out of our apartment. The absolutely fantastic part about it initally was that it was when we were on a walk. Anne-Marie was working late, so after Eph's initial moment of being "crestfallen," as he told Anne-Marie later, we went on our merry way to the park. Hah! I have learned to trick these fools into doing my bidding.

It all went sour when the rain started. Then Eph got hungry and decided it was a good idea to tie me up outside in the veritable deluge of the downpour while he ate pizza and read the newspaper. This was my approximate level of amusement:

Not to be deterred, of course, I simply resorted to the slam-dunk tactic of barking incessantly until he came out and placated me by continuing with the our walk. He was a fool to doubt my capabilities in the first place.

After about two hours into our little expedition, we found ourselves hunched like the huddled masses underneath a concrete overhang at the University. Eph remained "crestfallen," but I have found a new sworn enemy: rats. Those magnificent bastards. They roam freely around the colleges Dumpsters, and I may replace squirrels with them as the objects of my rabid voracity. Down, you vermin, down!

And So It Begins

2006-08-30T10:39:00.000-04:00

Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. I was too busy licking the squirrel entrials off my war-weary legs and, well, heinie. Yes, for those of you who have not heard the latest reports off the AP wire, the opening salvo of the Dog Squirrel War was fired this morning. As with many major conflicts, this initial skirmish didn't have clear winning and losing sides: I cornered the squirrel, got it in my mouth, shook it until I thought it was dazed, and then it went ahead and bit me on the nose. The carnage was something to behold, as were Anne-Marie's anguished cries of , "Suki! Suki! Stop it! Eph! EPHRAIM!" It's true, I walked away (ok, Anne-Marie played medic and carried me off the field) bleeding, but I think we all know that she who bites first bites hardest. I am declaring this a victory for caninekind. And for all of you out there who say that I am the aggressor, I'll have you know that this squirrel was on my property, and I was defending our hard-earned garbage from the onslaught of squirrel invasion. I sleep the sleep of the just this day.

Goodnight, and good luck, comrades.

I Don't Deserve This Kind of Shabby Treatment

2006-08-12T09:31:00.000-04:00

This is precisely the kind of discrimination I fled when I moved to Canada.

You cut me, Bob. You cut me deep.

Dog Park Extravaganza!

2006-08-05T09:46:00.000-04:00

There have been numerous requests for press photos from my latest gig at the dog park, so, to the little people out there, I say, “Voila!”

First of all, give me a treat. Seriously. Now. I’m wagging my tail, but that’s going to stop and the whupass is going to begin in a second.

For real, just give it to me. De-lish!

Moving on, there has been some grumbling from Anne-Marie and Eph over the canine sanitation “situation” here in Toronto. Nothing has really changed for me (squat, poop, on my way), but there have been some not-so-veiled insinuations that picking up my excrement is not a desirable task. I believe Anne-Marie has deemed it, “really gross,” because I “ate some paper products a few days ago and am still expelling them through [my] rear end.” Be that as it may, I personally am totally fine with this system.

This is the piece of land I’ve requisitioned for myself in High Park. Conveniently, it came with a secretary. She is screening my calls there in the background. For Christmas, I shall reward her liberally with somewhat creepy licks on the leg.

This is how I normally greet squatters on my property. Justice is dealt swiftly, even to those who could, in Anne-Marie’s erroneous estimation, “eat me for breakfast.” Spare me.

After close inspection, this dog’s story checked out. I have hired him as my personal assistant and head of security.

When I’m not hiring and firing, I generally solicit treats from the spectators who have come to watch me kick some dog park butt. I’ve learned from my friend, Christopher Rubin, that it never hurts to ask for a treat. Also, if food is being handed out, just get in line and take a snack. People usually fork it over if you’re just standing there. Foolproof.

And yes, I climb trees for treats. I was falsely led to believe that there were more treats further up the trunk, and ended up high in the branches.

That was so uncool, guys. So. Un. Cool.

Hot Diggity Dog!

2006-07-20T20:55:00.000-04:00

I am about to relate my account of what could only be called "the best day EVER." It all started when Eph and Anne-Marie decided to present me to my minions on the path that runs along Lake Ontario here in Toronto. But, before we even got to the lake trail, what did I spot but an entire patch of hot dogs, that's right, HOT DOGS, growing in a stand of grass near the sidewalk. Not only were there hot dogs, but buns, I tell you, buns! Do I know how or why they got there? No. It may have had something to do with the close proximity of what I presume to be the neighborhood crack house, but do I care? Again, no. Eph and Anne-Marie were occupied with their own conversation (yeah, I don't get it, either), but I managed to cram two dogs into my mouth before they woke up and smelled the fatty pork products. I had to relinquish one--my precious!--when the nimrods turned around and started yelling at me, but the one I ate was memorable, to say the least. Dreams do come true.

The Landed Gentry

2006-07-07T21:38:00.000-04:00

Eph and Anne-Marie took me to High Park today, which is right near my pad here in Toronto, and it was fantastic. Anne-Marie got a new camera phone today, which makes her think (erroneously) that she is a) awesome and b) too good for her digital camera now, so naturally I have no pictures to post. However, I showed several squirrels that there is a new sheriff in town, and the geese know to toe the line now, too.

I staked out some pretty nice land, which I've colored in green there in the map on the left. That's right, it's all mine. Seriously, get out of it. Now. I had a great time defending my turf at the off-leash dog park, but apparently Eph and Anne-Marie just don't know how to kick back and relax, because they insinuated in the car on the way home that I, quote, "humiliated myself and them" when I spent a good five minutes running around and barking aggressively at humans and canines alike. What?! How else am I to rule? They also implied that the mud covering my face and paws was "disgusting," but those fools just don't know that a facial's a facial.

Finally, I just want to set the record straight: there is an internet rumor going around that, in a standoff with one of the neighborhood cats, I "charged the beast, then retreated with ears back and tail tucked when it meowed at me." Let it be known now and forever that the story is totally and completely false. Larry King was going to have me on the show to dispell the myth, but I got bumped by the President. Larry, you are dead to me.

Really, I Can't Stop Laughing

2006-06-24T16:47:00.000-04:00

Laundry Day 3
Originally uploaded by TheNewtonator.

Hysterical. Just hysterical.

Give Some People a Little Bit of Power...

2006-06-24T16:45:00.000-04:00

Laundry Day 2
Originally uploaded by TheNewtonator.

...and this is what happens. Oh, a dog wearing a liger t-shirt and underwear on her head. Apparently this is what passes for comedy these days.

I'm Pooped!

2006-06-23T18:08:00.000-04:00

Suki's main activity
Originally uploaded by amnewtonator.

Dominating is hard work, so this is what I did for about 48 hours after returning to Griffin.

The Cade

2006-06-23T18:05:00.000-04:00

the cade.jpg
Originally uploaded by amnewtonator.

Ok, I admit it, I'm totally confounded by this one. He's smaller than everyone else, they speak to him in a different language, and he has the tendency to projectile vomit after eating. I do that sometimes, but no one ever makes cooing noises and pats my rear end. I don't get it.

Time Out

2006-06-23T18:02:00.000-04:00

Christopher in Time Out
Originally uploaded by amnewtonator.

Yep. They've tried to do that to me, Christopher, but their underwear paid the price.

My Staff

2006-06-23T18:01:00.000-04:00

See Saw (no, Christopher!)
Originally uploaded by amnewtonator.

These some more members of Team Suki, the Rubin siblings. We are not quite sure why a pool store has a see-saw on its premises, but we're just going to go with it, ok? Christopher is attempting to straddle the middle bar, but you'll soon see what happens when he doesn't listen to his aunt and uncle.

Frappuccino, Anyone?

2006-06-23T17:54:00.000-04:00

Frappuccino 6
Originally uploaded by amnewtonator.

I felt like 10:00 a.m. was a little early for beer, so I had Green Shirt and Donald head out and get me a frappuccino. Please note that I like to have my frozen coffee drinks accompanied by a glass of water. It's how they do it in Europe, guys. Let's try to have some class.

Please

2006-06-23T17:50:00.000-04:00

Leash is a Formality
Originally uploaded by amnewtonator.

I would like to make it known that the leash is a formality. I rule. Everything.

My Posse

2006-06-23T17:48:00.000-04:00

My Posse
Originally uploaded by amnewtonator.

This is part of the crew I roll with in Area Code 205. Eph, who will be referred to as "Green Shirt" from here on out, spent most of his time in that chair as we watched three nail-biter baseball games on Saturday morning. I made sure that all who came near us knew I was in charge. I find that wagging my tail while barking creates the perfect amount of confusion and consternation in strangers. I think we can all agree that it's a good system.

Fresno

2006-06-23T17:34:00.000-04:00

Fresno
Originally uploaded by amnewtonator.

This is Fresno. He chases squirrels with me, but I don't know if he's as hardcore about it as I am. He's more of a "Squirrels Light" kind of dog. We still have fun together, though. He bore some of the blame for chewing up a certain carpet, but I think we all know who was solely responsible for that. He is George Bush to my Dick Cheney.

Oh-oh, Alabama

2006-06-23T11:56:00.000-04:00

Last weekend, I visited my old hunting lodge in Birmingham. The squirrels needed to be taken down a peg or two, and let's just say, "mission accomplished" on that point of business. The Rubins have been taking wonderful care of my property, but we all sat down and decided that there would probably be a better dog:squirrel ratio at a different house in the area, so we'll be moving there soon. I don't dirty my paws with such things as lifting or packing, so Donald and Melissa are going to handle all the details. Oh, and guys, careful with my stuff.

My photographer got some pictures of the trip, which will be posted via Flickr hereafter.

I bid you good day.

And So it Begins

2006-05-30T05:05:00.000-04:00

Now that I am heading back into the custody of my total absentee parents, Anne-Marie and Eph, I have decided to reveal my true calling in life: world domination. This will start in July of 2006, when we move to Canada. Those of you who know me will not be surprised: I realize that I may look cute, but you do not want to mess with me. I fight dirty, I eat underwear for breakfast, I bark at small, adorable children, and don't get too attached to your nice Persian rugs because they are shreds, I tell you, shreds!

Obvious thanks go to Kathy and Bob for taking me in while Eph "studied" in Greece. We won't even talk about what Anne-Marie was (or was not, as the case may be) doing there. Apparently, taking me for walks and worshipping my every move now takes a back seat to a "once in a lifetime experience." If you're interested in knowing what I was doing, please refer to The High Seas (and other) Adventures of Suki. Kathy, Bob, if taking over Toronto doesn't work out, I can always re-take Zetella and Zancada, right? Great, thanks.

For those of you who may not understand the title of my manifesto, please refer to Leonard Cohen's song here. It's part of the lexicon, people. You have to know this stuff cold if you want to lord it over everyone, as I intend to do.

Posts will begin in July. I look forward to sharing my conquest with you.