ALL THE POOP ON A CANADA DAY WALK
Canada Day walk brings encounters with friendly residents and a dragon
We took our annual Canada Day walk with Ollie the Pug through the neighbourhood last weekend, something we’ve been doing for many years. And there was an exciting new development — a dragon.
One homeowner has erected a large dragon sculpture on the lawn in front of his house. The metal dragon is painted a glossy black and red, very spiky-looking, and about seven feet high. There is a propane tank connected to the dragon sculpture. The intent is clear — no doubt this dragon is capable of breathing fire.
“I wonder why the dragon isn’t breathing fire right now?” I said to my wife.
“That’s probably only for special occasions,” she said.
But what occasion could be more special than Canada Day? Although well built, the dragon — obviously homemade — is spectacularly ugly. Above it, hanging from a porch overhang, is a handcrafted item that looks like a small version of a bomb you’d drop from an American B-52. The bomb has a shark face with a hideous smile.
Every year, my wife likes to walk up a particular street on Canada Day and count the flags. She tells me that, in days of yore, the street was a shining example of Canada Day patriotism. That’s because one neighbour encouraged all the other neighbours to put out flags and other such decor.
This super-patriotic neighbour not only made wooden flags for the other neighbours, he made them wooden signs, each containing one line from the national anthem. This meant you could sing the anthem perfectly while walking up the street, although there’d be gaps in the song while walking from one sign to the next.
These days, the patriotic fervour on this particular street seems to have cooled. There were no national-anthem signs and only two wooden flags. However, the total count (including regular cloth flags) was 13, as noted by my wife.
Ollie the Pug wore his traditional Canada Day outfit. It is, essentially, a red-and-white ruffle that barely fits around his fat neck. Ollie seems blissfully unaware when sporting this accessory. It’s a good thing, because it makes him looked a bit bonkers — an effect heightened by his tongue, which lolls crazily out to one side.
At one point, Ollie crouched in one of the neighbours’ yards to make a Canada Day deposit. A neighbour from an adjoining house walked over to us briskly, with a slight limp.
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “He’s going on your neighbour’s lawn.”
This woman, a jolly middleaged person, said she didn’t mind, as dogs will be dogs. Then she told us a very interesting story about their family cabin, situated on a lake. Her neighbours there allow their dog to make regular deposits on her lawn. She politely removes these, but is less than thrilled with the situation.
One day, a friend was visiting when the dog made his customary visit. This friend yelled to the neighbour: “Hey, your dog went on our lawn. Come and pick it up!”
The jolly middle-aged woman said she was a bit taken aback. But overall, she was glad her friend had spoken up in a firm, civilized manner. No Americanstyle hyperbole, just respectful Canadian assertiveness. I was glad, too, as I always pick up after Ollie, and indeed, have spent a significant proportion of my life doing this.
The jolly neighbour then revealed she couldn’t go downtown to be part of the living Canada Day flag because she’d broken her toe by stubbing her foot. Immediately after this happened, she was rolling around on the floor. “I’m always rolling around,” she added, smiling pleasantly.
This last remark make me like the jolly neighbour immensely.
We walked back toward our house via a parallel street. Only eight flags on this one. We passed a woman and a man washing their van in the driveway.
“Oh, he looks festive,” said the 30-something woman, grinning.
Ollie was trotting along, still oblivious to his red-and-white ruff, which for some reason makes him look like a harlequin.
“Yes, it’s not really all that embarrassing walking him,” I said.
We walked up the driveway to our place. My wife had just a few Canadian flags on display. There were little ones placed in planter pots, and another one — a page cut from the Times Colonist — in our daughter’s bedroom window.
I don’t always go on the Canada Day walk. It depends on such factors as whether there’s something good on TV or whether I’ve just made a cup of tea.
But this year, in light of what’s happening south of the border, it seemed an especially good thing to do.