Number One: RasZoBai an awesome blog hosted by the lovely Chelsea who provided me with the right amount of gentle nudging, and spooning. Ok, there was no spooning, but there was the sending of the Weebly link a.ka. gateway to Blog Cloud Nine, easy kapeasy.....
Number Two: our Night Walk Episode on Tuesday. I usually take the Night Walks with Loki,but this was more of a mission of sorts.
That night, whatever it was, some say the ghost of Hurricane Sandy, others say a freak homage to The Wizard of Oz' uncredited character The Twister... It turned the evening sky rusty brown and ripped the surviving fall leaves off the trees. A sudden gust caused a hydro-transformer to explode while Loki Doberdog were walking by it. It was the loudest bang and scariest fireworks display ever. Unnatural. And NOT CGI effects.... (looking at you Michael Bay)
What followed was the instantaneous black-out of Centretown.
Loki Doberdog and I navigated back towards home, illuminated only by the passing of cars, the wind continuously pushing us home as if to say "Yeah, that's right...bitches, look what I gone done" That is some pathetic fallacy.
Loki was a trooper, he did take notice of the explosion but he was more interested in smelling all the smells in the atmosphere. As with all things in life, the show must go on regardless of a sudden loss of electricity. Thus, Mission Number 2 continued.
In the black out, the glow of my blackberry screen was too feeble to find the "parcel" Doberdog had left on top of a bush. He doesn't leave his parcels on lawns, he's very odd and prefers to leave them on top of things, plants, on top of bushes and on top street sign bases. Perhaps it's because he's tall, he's comfortable with this. It makes for a bit of an excavation when I need to "sign for it" (aka poop n scoop). It's as if he's shy about it when it's happening and then proud when he's done. "Ha ha, look at THAT"
And then this happened:
Passersby: "Oh no! Are you looking for your keys?"
Me (crouched down, scanning the ground, with a poopy sack over my hand/forearm..): "No, no, just looking for my dog's poop. Carry on"