Thank God I was awake

Some claim that Thanksgiving was celebrated in Canada as far back as 1578 when Martin Frobisher survived a long journey in his quest to find a northern passage from Europe to Asia. Others state Canadian Thanksgiving wasn’t properly observed until 1957 when it was established that this holiday would be celebrated on the second Monday of October.

https://www.timeanddate.com/holidays/canada/thanksgiving-day

Personally, I didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. Being born and raised in Belgium, the holiday doesn’t mean anything to me. Other than that, I’m not fond of the traditional food … turkey.

That being said, that doesn’t mean that I’m not thankful for a number of things. Family, a few good friends, a great number of acquaintances, a reasonably good health, and life in general. We should always keep in mind … no matter how bad it gets, there’s always someone who is worse of.

As for giving thanks … yesterday I did exclaim “Thank God.”

Let me explain.

After going to bed, I prepared for half an hour or so of reading. Reading helps me relax. Propped up against two pillows I picked up my Kindle (I’m getting quite used to electronic reading) and continued with “The Melody Lingers On” From Mary Higgins Clark. An excellent read by the way.

Suddenly, through my eyelashes, I saw something. When I looked up I saw that it was a medium sized spider coming down from the ceiling on an almost invisible thread.

Good Lord, with considerable speed I scrambled out bed all the while calling for my son, “Dieter … Dieter … DIETER!”

He could hear that something was wrong, so he quickly pulled on his jeans and t-shirt and came to my room.

“Look, a spider,” I said, “Go get a shoe.”

Even though there are plenty of shoes in my room, but Dieter went to go get one of his own.

The spider, perhaps knowing of his imminent demise, didn’t waste time. While it has almost reached the duvet of my bed, it quickly clambered back up again on his thread. So fast was he that by the time Dieter came back with a shoe, the spider was back on the ceiling.

Dieter climbed on my bed, aimed the shoe at the spider and … true to male form, he missed and the spider fell on the duvet. This had me screaming in panic. If the spider couldn’t be found, I could never sleep in this bed again.

Fortunately, the nasty creature was spotted and Dieter proceeded to knock the spider over the head again and again until it was dead and I said, “Thank God I was still awake.”

Can you imagine if I had gone to sleep without reading a few pages of my book first? That monster would have come down from the ceiling and landed on my bed, free to wander around. Eeeeewwwww!!!!!

www.connymanero.weebly.com

I'm leaving

Fall has arrived. Yes, I know, officially fall arrived on September 21^st but on that day, and the days that followed, Toronto enjoyed a bright sun in a blue sky and a temperature warm enough to be outside in shirt sleeves.

Today all that has changed. The sun is nowhere to be seen, the sky is a mass of grey clouds, and it’s cold. To make matters worse, it’s raining, and rain always makes a day seem even colder.

Ordinarily, I love a rainy day, the harder it rains the better I feel. I get really creative or I curl up on the sofa with a good book, with tea and chocolates within reach.

When I have to go out I don’t like a rainy day quite as much. I have to put on a jacket and instead of sunglasses take an umbrella along. Not that an umbrella guarantees me staying dry, I’ve had more than one umbrella ruined when the wind blew it inside out.

Some might say that fall is beautiful, and I agree. The Don Valley in Toronto displays a magnificent array of colors, but for how long. Soon those yellow, orange and red leaves fall off the trees and then they lay on the ground, rotting away. Except for chrysanthemums flowers are dying and nature loses all its color.

And from here on it’s only going to get worse. If meteorologists are to be believed, we’re having a tough winter ahead of us. We’ve had a wonderful long hot summer, so they are predicting an awful long and cold winter. Ugh, I can just imagine, temperatures way below zero, snow up to our ears, black ice … well, it is Canada.

If Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year, to me this is the most miserable time of the year. Fall has only just started and I’ve already had enough of it.

In winter, with packs of snow, nature at least gets transformed into a magical landscape and there’s some fun to be had. Skiing, ice skating, throwing snowballs at each other, but what’s to be done in the fall … throwing wet leaves at each other?

Maybe I should do like the Canadian geese, head south and wait for winter to pass. I can’t fly, but I can walk.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

Visiting Australia

One of the perks of having friends all over the world is, should I ever decide to travel, I won’t need hotel accommodation.

Just the other day, I received a message from a friend in Melbourne, Australia. She told me that, should I ever want to come for a visit, she has a spare bedroom in her house.

The first thing I did was Google Melbourne. I admit, I don’t know much about Australia. I know the Opera House in Sidney and the outback where one can go for a walkabout, but other than that, the land down under is pretty much a mystery to me.

The second thing I did was look up flights from Toronto to Melbourne and, well, the chances of me going to Australia are slim to none. Toronto to Los Angeles – 5 hours, Los Angeles to Melbourne – 15 hours … can you imagine, being cooped up in a plane for 20 hours!

And then there’s another little problem with Australia … apparently it is home to some of the biggest spiders.

Some of you may know that I spent fifteen years in Africa, which also houses some large spiders, but in all my time there I never saw one. Correction, I did see some large spiders, but they were dead ones, framed behind glass.

According to my friend, in Australia they are very much alive. In fact, she keeps a can of fast kill insect spray (also lethal for spiders) in every room of her house.

That’s all I needed to hear. The chance of encountering a spider in any room at any given time; the chance of such a creep walking over my bed at night; or worse, a spider taking a stroll along the ceiling and losing its footing … no, thank you.

It’s a shame really because I wouldn’t mind seeing Australia. In particular the many kangaroos, wallabies, koala bears, parrots and all the places I read about in books.

Speaking of which … in the latest book I read, it took the main character three months to get from England to New Zealand. Compared to that, what I am moaning about having to fly 20 hours from Toronto to Australia.

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The rest of the story: Zoe needs a new companion

Our guest blogger today is Diane Quinn from Las Vegas.  Diane recently lost her beloved cat Zorro, and successfully introduced a new kitty.  I asked her about this experience and she was kind enough to put "pen to paper".

You last met me when our beloved cat, Zorro, died unexpectedly of a heart condition.  (See EveryCloud Can Have a Silver Lining blog post.)  I introduced you to the Poppy Foundation and explained the outstanding work they do for unhealthy and unadoptable cats.  What I later learned is that our vet, who houses the Poppy Foundation in her hospital, also takes in feline patients when their human owners can no longer keep them.

In the weeks that followed Zorro’s death, we watched as our female Ragdoll, Zoe, went through a disturbing grieving process. Her personality changed, she pulled fur patches off the back of her neck, and she hid a lot under the bed, something she had never done before. She stopped sleeping with us as well. Our normally perky diva was depressed.  Fortunately, after about two months, she seemed almost like her old self again.

I came to realize that Zoe had never been an “only” cat before, and I wondered if she would be happy without a feline companion.  Then I began to think about what would happen when we traveled.  Even though we have two caring friends who stop in and cat sit, I had deep concerns about how she would manage basically by herself for a week at a time.

After a lengthy discussion with my husband who was resistant to getting another cat, he agreed to let me call the Poppy Foundation to see if they had a mature male at least five years old that needed a home. Zoe was about to turn nine, and we didn’t want a large age gap. Turns out they had three candidates.  As we were driving to the foundation, my husband said, “You know, I’d like to have a black cat with green eyes.”  At that point, color was the least of my worries as I focused on age, a personality fit and solid house training. 

When we walked into the Poppy Foundation there sitting on a chair all by himself was a black cat with green eyes. The volunteers told us that his name was BamBam, that he was their official greeter, and that he was one of our candidates. After we met the other two worthy felines, we had to make a decision. We both agreed that charming BamBam was the best suited for our home and as Zoe’s companion. 

We came back four days later to get him after he had a physical, dental work, updated shots and was groomed.  The Poppy Foundation never allows an adoption without knowing the adopter’s background and making sure the cat is in perfect health. 

This event was almost two months ago. The first thing my husband insisted on was giving our new black kitty a “manly” name more suited for his age—Rocky! It took just a matter of days to introduce him to our home. It was obvious that he was happy to find a real home again where he didn’t have to compete for attention.  Zoe was put out at first and exerted her diva personality in mostly non-aggressive ways.  Lucky for us, Rocky’s super friendly and loving personality won her over more quickly than we could ever have expected.

Zoe and Rocky are the best of buddies. They play together, watch birds and lizards side-by-side at the screen doors, and lick and love each other frequently.  Sure, they might have a territorial disagreement on occasion, but after a little boxing match, one usually gives in without any aggression.  More important is that we can go away now without guilt knowing that they have each other for loving companionship.

Where are the real Canadians?

Years ago, when I was very young, I met a couple who lived in Canada for a few years.  They entertained us with stories and I listen open mouthed. 

It all sounded so wonderful.  Canada sounded beautiful, but forbidding.  A place where men could be men, and women could proof what they were made of.  A land were the strong survived and the weak were send packing.

I knew there and then that I wanted to see and experience that land.  Years later I got the chance and arrived wide eyed and full of wonder in Toronto.

What I heard and saw was not what I expected.  Where were the tough men and women who took a no nonsense attitude to life?

I saw people bundled up from head to toe in a temperature of -3 degrees C (26 degrees F).

I heard that schools closed when a 30 cm (a foot) of snow was expected.

I heard of a record of car accidents because of slush on the roads.

I saw people sanitize their hands after opening a door, afraid of germs.

I saw folks lining up for a flu shot.

Who were these people and where were the tough Canadians?

We just left a hot South Africa and we were better equipped against the cold than people who lived here for years.

These weren’t Canadians. These were wimps.  When I saw a poster on a subway train stating “Citizens of Canada, show new immigrants what we are made of” I thought “What? Fluff?” 

Of course, the Canadians I met weren’t real Canadians, they were imports from other countries.  To find a real Canadian in Toronto you have to search far and wide.  You’ll find immigrants from various parts of Africa, India, the Middle East and South America, but to find a real Canadian (someone 2^nd or 3^rd generation) … no, no such luck. 

Back in Belgium we had cold winters too.  When I was a child we had no duvets, but had to make do with flannel sheets and blankets and occasionally a hot water bottle.  The bedrooms had no heating and sometimes we woke up to ice flowers on the glass windows.

We had no snow days at school.  No matter how cold it got or how much snow was on the ground, we went to school.  Not in pants and parkas mind you, but in skirts (short skirts) with no leg protection other than knee high socks.

As for snow fall … take your cue from Switzerland and Austria, Canada.  You haven’t seen snow until you’ve been to Zermatt.  Packs and packs of white stuff.  Yet nobody complains.  

Cars and trains drive on mountains with ravines of a few hundred meters (feet) deep, and everybody goes about their business like it’s just another day.

The men might offer you a glass of mulled wine or Jagermeister, while the women cheerfully fling open the windows of their houses to throw bread and nuts for the birds and squirrels.  They go about their business and when given half a chance they strap on their skis and head up the mountains.  Cold?  What cold … it’s winter, isn’t it?

In Canada the country all but comes to a standstill when the temperature drops.  Car and bus drivers turn into clumsy idiots, tacks freeze and trains get stuck, companies close early and schools don’t even open.

What happened to the Canada of my childhood stories?  What happened to all the real Canadians?

In memory of Zorro

Diane Quinn is my guest blogger today. I hope that a few of you will share the blog post as Diane talks about Zorro, who recently crossed Rainbow Bridge. At the same time she draws attention to the Poppy Foundation, which deserves a lot of exposure.

Every Cloud Can Have a Silver Lining

In Conny’s last blog post, you learned of the passing of our beloved Ragdoll cat, Zorro, who succumbed to a heart condition called FHC (Feline Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy).  This silent killer is common in Ragdoll and Maine Coon cat breeds.  Quality breeders certify that their cats have been tested and do not carry the FHC gene.  Unfortunately, we adopted Zorro when he was a year old from a friend-of-a-friend who was moving, and he was a day away from being deposited at a shelter. 

One expects older pets to die, but not pets that appear to be in perfect health and in the prime of their life.  That was Zorro—so handsome, so loving, and so special.  The shock of losing him at age eight will linger along with our grief.  Our only solace is that he slipped away without pain on our sofa, in his favorite napping position and with his family nearby.

Many believe that every cloud has a silver lining.  That even in the worst of situations good can emerge to neutralize negativity.  I like to believe that is true.  Toward that end, my goal is to introduce the followers of “Under the Toronto Sun” to a worthwhile foundation that my husband and I support and where we made a donation in Zorro’s name after he died.  It’s called
The Poppy Foundation (http://poppyfoundation.org/) 

The Poppy Foundation is located at the Bonanza Cat Hospital (http://www.lvcatvet.com/) in Las Vegas.  Dr. Linda Steelman is one of those vets unable to turn away a cat in need.  Her hospital is the last stop for unadoptable kitties through the Humane Society and other cat rescue groups.  They are unadoptable because of incurable health conditions or because their injuries have left them so unattractive that no one will adopt them.

Within days after adopting Zorro when he was a year old, I took him for a checkup with Dr. Steelman.  Imagine my surprise when I walked into the hospital’s tiny waiting room and found myself surrounded by cat condo’s filled with snoozing kitties.  Then there were the dozens of others walking around wherever they pleased, even taking advantage of empty laps and head rubs wherever they could find them.  Parents of patients preferred to stand rather than take a chair away from a sleeping feline. The office volunteers often had to remove their furry helpers from the top of the printer, telephone console and sign-in sheets in order to do their jobs.

I admit that my heart skipped a beat the first time I watched three-legged cats limp by, cats with cuts resulting in ugly bald spots on their lovely fur, or who now had to view the world with only one eye.  At one time, when I asked how many cats were in residence, they admitted they had lost count but that they were well over 100. 

I’m happy to report that over a year ago, the Poppy Foundation at the hospital was able to add more space.  There is one large room now dedicated to cages for seriously ill cats (sort of an ICU) and a play area for those kitties that are able and willing. 

I can think of no better way to honor our beloved Zorro than by helping to bring attention to the well run, making a difference, Poppy Foundation.  In addition to money, they are grateful for used cat care items and food donations. 

Even though Conny had never met Zorro (it’s a long way from Toronto and Las Vegas), she came to know him almost as well as one of her own furry gang.  It’s comforting to know that a memorial to him will remain a permanent part of Conny’s “Under the Toronto Sun” blog site.

Gaining popularity

This blog started out as a way to vent.  You know how it goes, something gets on your nerves and sharing your grievances with your cat just doesn’t cut it.  A blog seemed like the ideal solution.  I could have my say and move on.

For the longest time “Under the Toronto Sun” had limited viewing.  A few friends followed my posts, averaging between 35 – 50 views per day.

That has changed.  I don’t know what happened, but ever since “Under the Toronto Sun” reached its 25,000 mark, readership has exploded, averaging between 400 – 500 views per day. 

Much to my surprise, I’ve noticed that “Under the Toronto Sun” isn’t just being read in Canada in the United States, but enjoys readership in other parts of the world as well.  Statistics show that this blog has readers in England, Scotland, France, Spain, Belgium, Chile and (a large following in) Brazil.

Unfortunately, so have the comments.  Some are flattering and encouraging, others are on the hurtful side, and then there are the spam messages: financial consultants, marketing experts, diet programs, sex toys and porn sites, they all hope for a posting.

If I see a site I agree with, I will let it through, but most spam messages get deleted.  It’s one of the reasons I started screening the comments.  When this blog was young, anyone and everyone could leave a comment, but since gaining popularity all comments have to be approved by yours truly.

My message to spammers … don’t bother.  If I don’t agree with what you’re advertising, your comments won’t see the light of day.

Fall has blown into town

I put flannel sheets on my bed, retrieved my winter socks and dusted off my fleece slippers.  It seems that with the arrival of October, the temperature has drastically dropped.  

What people like about the fall is beyond me.  Some get quite lyrical about it, admiring the trees and their color changing leaves.  Sure, the trees are beautiful, but the way the wind was blowing yesterday and this morning they won’t have their beautiful leafs for long.

Even though I can’t quite say that it’s grown cold, it has become rather chilly.  Chilly enough for me to have changed my shoes for boots and my cotton jacket for a woolen one.  

From now until April, or even May, I won’t be able to sit on the balcony in the canopy swing anymore; and the cats won’t be able to go outside in their kitty run.

Oh I can’t bear the thought that it will only go from bad to worse.  Flowers will completely disappear, the bare trees will soon be covered with frost and I will need to wrap myself in layers of clothing.  For the next couple of months I will need a proper winter jacket, a hat, a scarf and gloves. 

Next there will be snow and ice and with it all kinds of dangers.  I will no longer walk to the subway station, but slip and skid my way over there, desperately trying to stay vertical.  I dislike the fall and I hate the winter.

So what am I doing in Canada?  Good question.  While living in South Africa, I longed for a proper winter.  I missed the cold that brought snow and ice.  In the 15 years that I lived there, I just never got used to celebrating Christmas under a blazing hot sun.  Back then I wanted snow and ice.

Come to think of it, I like the seasons the way they are in Canada just fine.  The spring ... chilly and wet; the summer ... short but hot; the fall ... windy and somewhat depressing; and the winter ... deep freeze cold.  

I need a cup of hot tea.