by William J. Gibson

Two Golden Retrievers: the ongoing saga of 2X Golden : one named Diamond (female, four and a half years old), the other Shakespeare (male, two and a half years old). They are truly sister and brother, their parents Lady Ashley and Lucky. What bothers me the most is the clear evidence on almost a daily basis that they are smarter than me.

From July 2, 2001: "Quite a bit of excitement yesterday afternoon with Diamond. With the big wind that came up yesterday, many branches down. Both she and Shake were chewing sticks. I went into the cottage for ten minutes. When I came back Diamond was gagging and retching. This didn't look too good. Took her inside, where she continued retching and gagging. Trying to put her paw down her throat. Laying down on her side. Getting up. Trying to retch. Then moving to the bath tub to lie on her side. My sister becoming as frantic as me and quite a bit more verbal about it. The dog trying to wag her tail through the whole thing. More gagging. I tried phoning the vet, but couldn't get through, I think because wires were down, both phone and electric.

Finally got through talked to someone who recommended we go to the better equipped vet service in Barrie. I had by this time reached down her throat a couple of times but could feel nothing lodged. We were pretty worried. So driving a little bit like a madman, 140 km/hour in a 100 km/hour zone, not all the time but a good chunk of that route, we get there. And after a lengthy form to fill out, someone took an initial look at her. Turned out to be a two inch piece of soft twig stuck in the arch of the roof of her mouth. The fellow took it out. Both my sister Mary and I went limp with the release of our worry. I cannot imagine what it must be like to have a sick child. Anyway, the guy said, there is no need to see the vet and therefore no charge.

Diamond was happy to meet some new friends continued to work the crowd in the waiting room then away we went back a little slower on the highway back to the cottage.

I will keep the twig as a little souvenir and reminder. As I type this, she is playing with a squeaky ball, trying to get her little brother to play with her."

From July 10, 2001: "Today we met the world's largest Rotweiller (sp?). His name is Roscoe and he lives in Victoria Harbour, Ontario, on the church hill near the old school. His head is the size of a pumpkin, the rest of him is in proportion to that. I now know where the jack o lantern idea got its start.

I was walking with Diamond, she is a little overweight. I am a lot overweight, so were attempting a little exercise and had walked from the cottage around the shore road to the "Harbour" and were looping back through town. Roscoe's owner had all the doors of his car open, his blaster blasting, and when he spotted Diamond and I, decided to speak to his dog about staying to home.

Roscoe went deaf and arrived at high speed to kill Diamond. She being brilliant and a lover not a fighter, bailed and lay on her side and looked at me to take the hit for her. Roscoe arrived, realized she was a female and the look of disgust on his face clearly indicated that he was disappointed that she wasn't a male because he felt like some light exercise. Roscoe's owner apologized. Then he grabbed his dog by the collar and said to go home, Roscoe remained deaf, until his owner got him about five yards away and starting across the road and then proceeded to kick the dog in the ass. Roscoe looked less than thrilled but went home.

Diamond and I continued on our way home. We are working up a revised long distance route for future outings."

General Question: When I let my dogs out to run down to the beach, how is that that they always find an enormous dead fish, most often just the skeleton and skull, but still fragrant, to roll on?