Ms. Mistoffelees

   
There is no doubt in my mind that Mimi is a cat trapped in the body of a petite cocker spaniel.  This is somewhat problematic for me because I don’t really enjoy cats (the animal and the musical).  Before you scoff at the notion that Mimi is in fact a cat, let me give you a list of cat things that she does.
1.  Jumping on your face while your sleeping.  Check.
2.  Randomly nip at your face for no real reason.  Check.
3.  Stands on the back of the sofa and walks around.  Check.
4.  Jumps on or off of things with no regard for her own well-being.  Check. 
5.  Has a holier than thou attitude.  Ok, this one is no but all the others are there.
I’ve never seen a dog act quite like Ms. Mimi does.  Between routinely walking on the back of the couch, jumping up by way of the arm of the couch rather than the MUCH easier and more straightforward way…it’s just all a bit troubling.  Why is this so?  Well, it stems from my experience as a young, glasses-wearing, straight blonde hair having 6th grader.   
Back in the day, mom and pops did not have much money so when the opportunity came for a class trip to Toronto to see Cats, it wasn’t something that was on my radar.  My memory isn’t exactly clear on how it came to pass, but somehow, the money was found to send me with my classmates to the big city.  I think I didn’t mind the show for the most part but at intermission, our class was invited to go and meet the cast.  For whatever reason, this did not strike me as particularly appealing and I initially hung back with the intent of not going at all.  
After a few minutes sitting by myself, I decided to go down and see what all the fuss was about.  I got there as all the commotion was subsiding and within a few minutes found myself alone with a very sweaty, very large Old Deuteronomy.  Against my instinct I decided I should ask for his autograph (since this is what apparently you were supposed to do although it seemed a bit silly to me even at such a young age).  Old Deuteronomy looked at me and said, “beat it kid” and walked away.  
I returned to my seat and watched the rest of the show.  Needless to say I wasn’t upset when Old Deuteronomy died (wait, did I just make that up?  Someone dies don’t they?  Whatever, it totally didn’t faze me).   
In hindsight, this proved to be a great lesson.  Actually, two great lessons.  One, show business is bullshit (much like other things in life that seem great from the outside) and two, my instincts are generally on point.   

run-mimi-run

   

The latest from Mimi’s world: her ability to expunge substances from her body at astonishing rates.  I would guess that she weighs….oh….about 15 lbs. but has taken to dumping and vomming like nobody’s business.  I’m not even mad, I’m impressed.  Since she decided to urinate on my bed last Saturday at 3am, Mimi has proceeded to drop bombs three times every walk.  THREE times EVERY walk.  You ask, is that even possible?  Yes it is.  Not only that but she also enjoys vomming once a day.  All this and she still has the same energy level she normally does.  It is impressive.  And gross. 

In other news, Mimi still trusts no one on the streets.  I think she’s been paying a little too much attention to The Wire.  Most recent craziness happened the other morning.  We were out for our first walk and I decided to stop in the local 7-Eleven for a breakfast taquito (ok, not really for that I just wanted to say “taquito”).  Since there was nothing to tie her up to, I pretended I did so and told her to stay.  About a minute later I emerge from the store only to see that Mimi Manning had disappeared.  Without a trace. 

A guy in his car shouts at me to inform me that my dog ran “that way” and pointed south.  I half-heartedly run down the street calling out to her.  Nothing.  Hmm, this could be a problem I think to myself.  I turn a corner and see Mimi sprinting towards our house, legs flailing and booties flying.  I call to her, she stops and turns around.  We’re about 100 meters away from each other and I can see her checking me out.  Once she realizes it’s me she rockets towards me and automatically goes into a sitting position as she arrives at my feet (spraying slushy snow everywhere). 

100 miles and running.  Mimi-styles.

oh no!

Saturday night. Shortly after 10pm. I take Mama Mimi out for a late night pee. We descend the front steps and Darkness starts to kind of scuffle and growl while pulling in the direction of the recycling bin. I turn around just in time to lock eyes with a little skunk. I’m not sure if animals feel the range of emotions we do but this guy sure as hell looked as surprised and terrified as I felt.

After I made a run for the sidewalk, I thought that we had managed a clean escape. I hadn’t heard anything nor felt anything. I assume that when skunks spray, you hear and feel something. Within about oh, 10 seconds Mimi started sneezing and burying her face in the snow. Dang…Never one to want to accept reality, I thought that perhaps this was something else, somehow NOT skunk related. I bent down to smell her head and…yup…….skunk!

I’ve been one of those people (I am assuming I’m not the only one) who have always found that the smell of skunk is not that bad. Cow, pig, or chicken crap smells way worse than skunk (I thought). Raw sewage and sulphur, also very unpleasant. But THIS, THIS…was horrible. I’m not saying that it’s worse than any of those things I’ve just mentioned but still, fairly nasty. It’s as though you’ve crawled up inside someone’s ass and you discover that somehow, SOMEHOW, this person has been storing dead bodies up there. And leftover Indian food.

Anyway, after about 15 minutes of Mimi giving herself snowjobs, we finally return home. And yes, the smell was overwhelming and horrible outside the house, inside the house….everywhere.The magic of the internet gave me a recipe (not tomato sauce) to bathe her in. White vinegar, baking soda, peroxide….dish soap. So I proceeded to bathe Mimi only to run out of hot water (fyi: dogs do not like being rinsed off with ice cold water…they’re kinda human in that regard). Many cups of microwaved water later, Mimi is rinsed off, totally unhappy, and still really really smelly. Once out of the tub, Mimi felt like the best thing to do was to rub her smelly self all over the house. I put her on lockdown the rest of the night.

Funny thing about skunk smell, apparently, it gets STRONGER as time passes. Like a punch in the face, the putrid smell actually woke me up in the middle of the night. The only time a smell has ever woken me up in the middle of the night was when one of my former girlfriends had the hummus platter at a middle eastern restaurant. THAT was horrible. I actually got up and left the room to regroup only to go back to discover that IT had gotten stronger as well. I ended up elbowing her awake to see if maybe, MAYBE she had left a hot lunch in the bed. Ok, the very last part did not happen but everything else is true. It was truly traumatizing. For reals. She’ll never read this but if somehow she does, she’ll know it’s all completely true (you know who you are).

One day, and another bath later, Mimi is still kind of skunky. It’s not bad anymore but it still makes me scrunch my nose. The question is, has she learned her lesson? I say no. Damn her.

the sweater

It finally happened. Mimi wore a dog sweater on a walk. Not only that, but it was a dog sweater that one might describe as a fashion sweater. Stylish. Breathable. Slimming even. Please not that I did NOT buy this article of clothing. Ami hand-stitched it the other day. That’s old world craftsmanship people, it doesn’t get any better than this (cue the Old Milwaukee commercial). Seriously, it’s pretty awesome. Ami could sell that shit on the internets. Much like the booties, Mimi in a sweater elicits much laughter in our house. On the street, it elicits even more “oh my god, she’s so cute!” looks from 40 something women.

For her part, Mimi seems to like it. She’s the type of dog that doesn’t freak out when you put things on her like sweaters, booties, t-shirts, hats, sunglasses, bows and the like. Hey, she’s confident with who she is and is not defined by her material possessions. Having said this, it is clear that Mimi has been undergoing some not so subtle personality changes in the last two weeks. Namely, it’s getting harder for Ian and Ami to take her to the red zone. Indeed she’s no longer a girl but not yet a woman. It’s like Britney wrote (?) that song for Mama Mimi.

This turn of events is most welcome considering that having a fucking puppy is a complete pain in the ass. And no, their cuteness doesn’t make up for crap. Could it be that I’m just a lazy, selfish, prick? Yes, but still.

So, bottom line, fashion sweater is amazing and Mature Mimi is pretty amazing too. Me? I’m still the same. There has been no type of growth or maturity on my part. I’m hungry, I need to go eat.

Urine Soaked Pants

On a recent episode of a show I watch semi-regularly, the host said something along the lines of “dogs don’t care what you look like, what you do, how much money you have…all they care about is the energy you’re projecting.” If that’s the case, this city is in a bit of trouble.

If Mimi’s instincts are at all accurate, many people in the TO aren’t feeling that great. And I ain’t meaning the homeless. In fact, Mimi rarely reacts negatively towards the greasy homeless people we see. There is nothing about how people she passes look, that tells me she’s gonna have a freak out. It’s the energy they’re projecting that she, A. usually senses well before the person passes us and B. causes her to want to avoid that person at all costs.

Of course, she does look for a pretty wide detour for those homeless persons who really reek of urine but then again, who doesn’t? Listen, I can appreciate such a strategy among those people who are less a home. The dirtier and smellier you are, the more chance that some bougie taking in “all the culture” Toronto has to offer will give you some money. How do I know this is a deliberate strategy you ask? One guy told me that’s what he did. That’s right one guy. One. Uno.

Many times it’s the people who look like they have their shit together who elicit the most frantic responses from Crazy Eyes Mimi. Is it the crushing commute? The meaningless 9-5? Being trapped in a loveless marriage? The sense that we’re slaves to our possessions? I have no idea nor do I particularly care, I just look to avoid well-dressed people that seemingly have it together. I think that’s a pretty good life strategy. And so does Mimi.

ca-caw! it’s me snitches!

One of our newer routines consists of going to Bellwoods (not new), locking ourselves in one of the tennis courts, and playing fetch. This accomplishes two things: one, it allows Mama Mimi to chase sticks while two, not allowing the same Mama Mimi to run away when I call her. Because she’s fenced in. Brilliant.

Did I think of this myself? Yes. No. I saw someone doing it with her dog and went ahead and stole the idea. In fact, the first time I did it that same girl showed up with her dog but was forced to use the neighboring (and in all ways inferior) court next to us. Sucker.

This is a particularly awesome situation because the last time Darkness played fetch with me she constantly ran away (I may have wrote about this…) when I called to her. One of the ways I’m trying to combat this is to instill the fear of god in her. This is not hard to do because she is already quite paranoid of everyone she doesn’t know in the outside world. What I noticed yesterday was that if I yelled “HEY!” and sprinted towards her, she would drop the stick and run in fear. I found this funny for about 1.3 seconds but I quickly called for her to come mainly to assure her I wasn’t about to beat her. I have never beat her. Yet. The problem with beating her is that she’s just too petite to be beat. Don’t get me wrong, she deserves to be beat approximately 3-34 times per day but alas, I don’t think it will ever happen. Anyway, the Hey/Sprint technique worked consistently yesterday and today, we graduated to simply me saying “HEY!” followed by her instantly dropping the stick and sitting down. She was so good at it today that one might think, “man, that guy must beat his dog. She’s so well-behaved.” But, as you all know, I do not beat her. Yet.

The other benefit of Tennis Court Fetch is that running on concrete trims her nails. Go figure. It works so well that I’m considering using it for myself. God. What a stupid thing to write.

Paranoia

Although she hasn’t quite been in this world for 10 months, Mimi clearly, consistently, and firmly believes that everyone and everything is out to get her. And you know what? She’s right.

Whether she’s walking, sitting, lying down, indoors, outdoors, wherever, she is stared at, called to, and touched. As a result, she’s constantly on edge. On the street her ears flail around as she looks to see who is coming up behind her. At home she monitors the door to see who may be coming in everyday, all day, 24/7 (once she’s a year old you can add 52 weeks a year).

The upshot of all this is that it absolutely obliterates whatever paranoia I (or anyone else around her) may have. I’m not a paranoid guy but I am damn sure that no one on the street gives a damn about me. This is exactly as it should be.

If I were motivated, I could use Mimi to dedicate myself to a life of petty theft. After all, no one would suspect the owner of such a cute dog to pilfer, purloin, or pelf in some way shape or form. So the next time you see a cute dog on the street, watch your nuggets!

Names

Everyone I know and every pet I have ever had has had multiple nicknames.  While I like to think of the practice in a terms-of-endearment type of vibe, I imagine it is not always perceived as such.  Since Mimi is unable to speak our language, her opinion in this matter will remain, forever, unregistered.  Humans I know may want to weigh in but this is blog is about my life with Mimi not my life with Humans.  That would be a much different blog…I think.

Lately, Mimi’s actions have revived the monicker (god, what a pretentious way of phrasing this…it’s almost like I’m becoming a prose poet except for the fact I don’t know exactly what the difference is between a poet and a prose poet.  Also, I don’t want to know) “Beans.”  I dubbed her Beans in early fall because, well, she was full of beans most mornings.  She never really responded to that name but then again, it was never intended to get a response from her.  It was, simply, funny to me.  As it happens, the past week or so, Mimi has been having freak out periods in which she literally bounces off the furniture while sprinting around the house.  This is not unusual because I have seen other dogs do this.  There are many reasons why this happens but that’s not the point of today’s entry.  

Today is about listing off Mimi’s alter egos with brief commentary about each one.  In no particular order, here they are:

Mama Mimi–this one was given by housemate Ian after we watched The Godfather one night.  It is simultaneously anti-Italian and anti-dog.  Good work you Waspy son of a…

Any variation of Mama, Mumu, Momo…for reasons that are fairly obvious.

Venom–because she spreads herself out when she pees and looks like, you guessed it, Venom.

Darkness–she’s almost completely black.  Is this racist?  Um, I think no if you do it in Dave Chappelle’s Rick James voice.  (I’m fairly certain I spelled Chappelle wrong but who cares?  Nerds, that’s who.)

Midnight–see Darkness

Crazy Eyed Mimi–when she’s running at full tilt her with her ears flapping and eyes looking, yup, crazy.  If you watch Curb Your Enthusiasm you’ll know this reference.

Mims–after the one hit wonder rapper who penned This Is Why I’m Hot.  I just took the “i” out of Mimi.  Genius.

There others that I won’t agree to but they should be listed: Pretty Lady, Trouble, Mimi Larue.  

Of course, I also call her every curse word I can think of but those can’t qualify as nicknames.  Yet.  

Red Zone

Mimi’s favourite place to be these days is the Red Zone.  The Red Zone is a lawless place where rules, boundaries, etiquette, nature, integrity, and hygiene do not exist.  Sometimes Mimi is taken to these places by roomie Ian but usually, she manages to find her way there on her own.

Today’s Red Zone adventure happened at Bellwoods Park. After barking incessantly at some kids frolicking in the snow (ok, they weren’t actually frolicking, they were sledding but I can’t figure out how to spell toboganning [crap!]) she happily trotted over to me when she saw that I had found a stick roughly twice as long as she. I decided to throw it down an icy hill thinking that it would make for some laughs for me and good exercise for her. False. Mimi easily fetched it and then proceeded to prance around the park with the stick in her mouth. Just far enough out of my reach but close enough to show off.

Channeling Cesar Millan’s Calm Assertive Leadership energy in me I called for her to Come. Rather than obey, she pranced in the opposite direction. This public theatre lasted for the remainder of the walk and despite my best effort at Calm Assertive Leadership what I really wanted to employ was Aggressive Beatdown Leadership.

Bottom line, Mimi really likes visiting the Red Zone. And you can too, just come for a walk with us one day.

Booties

On a slushy, wet New Year’s Day, Mimi visits Lake Frontenac.  She’s wearing booties which is always hilarious and humiliating.  I feel that booties really confirm the fact that life in a city like Toronto is very different than life in “the country.”  And by country, I mean not a large urban centre.  My dog from a previous life never wore booties and every fiber of my being did not want to get booties for Mimi.  In downtown Toronto, dogs with booties are as prevalent as bourgeois  kids pretending to be poor (from this point on, I will use the term “bougie” as a catch all when referring to those people).  Point is, me and Mimi hate booties. 

Once we arrive at the lake I proceed to let Mimi off her leash.  Once released, she heads directly for a stick.  Mimi loves sticks.  Big sticks, little sticks, sticks that are really broken tree branches, they are all fair game.  Within about 10 seconds a piece of a very small stick is lodged in the roof of her mouth.    Not only does she not come to me for help but she actively resists my aid.  I do manage to get it out and Mimi spends the rest of the time prancing (yes, prancing) around the snow carrying a very large stick in her mouth.  She really really loves prancing around with sticks.   Much of my time is spent monitoring the booties.  Are they going to fly off?  (yes).  Will I be pissed if I lose one?  (yes).  I notice that Mimi (despite her stick-fueled joy) is shivering and it hits me…I need to get her a jacket.  God.  What have I become?  

Everything about this feels wrong.