Day 2 Cross Canada: Sault Sainte Marie, Ontario to Thunder Bay, Ontario

 Some stressful stuff with the dogs closed out Day 2 of our drive across Canada.

Arrival at the hotel. You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

On day 2, after the roach motel stay, we were in Thunder Bay, Ontario. We were staying at a pet-friendly hotel, in a room on the second floor. We were near an exit door, which is good for us with the dogs, as we need to spend as little time in common spaces/stairwells/corridors as possible.



If you are not familiar, we have a 2 year old yellow Lab cross Ella, and an aging Great Dane, Schultz (he's about 7-9 years old). Both are rescue dogs. Schultz was abused badly before we adopted him and he has certain extreme behaviours and aggression triggers that we can't seem to help or overcome with him. If anything, I think he feeds off of my anxiety and that I have made it worse for him. If only Cesar Milan knew I am simply not capable of "calm, assertive".

Now he wears a wire basket muzzle that he can pant, drink and bark safely out of. It's the best way to keep everyone from trouble, though we regularly get dirty and/or terrified looks from people. I understand that it must be intimidating to see him coming towards you...

Schultz got the cargo area and Ella had to share the back seat with our clothes. She consistently moved the bars on the barrier to always end up nose first in the centre arm console between us.

When we tried to get him down the stairwell at the hotel for a bathroom break in the evening, he was absolutely terrified to traverse down the tile stairs, and he resisted and splayed his legs out to hold steady.

There was no elevator, so we knew we had to get him down. We assumed this would happen with a little reassurance and cooing. He was not having it. We had to move him ourselves, as gently and kindly as possible.

Somehow, we made it to the landing. Half way there.

We had to move quickly to get him out of the stairwell before others could come in and have the shit scared out of them. Plus, Ella was waiting for me in the room and you're not supposed to leave the dogs alone in the room at any time. I was high strung and my heart rate was up.

Following the landing on the landing, he braced himself with all his might. And his paws slid. And as we moved to the first stair, something went wrong.

He wouldn't move any more.

He couldn't move any more.

And he was in full panic mode. It took a minute for us to realize that his foot wouldn't move because it was stuck in the steel stairway framework. Somehow, he pushed his foot hard enough, and just awkwardly enough, that it somehow got stuck below his back ankle.

He was full out shuddering and we couldn't figure out what to do. My normal panic reaction is to  forget where I am and piss my pants  cry, but I knew I didn't have the luxury this time. We needed to free him, and fast. "Man, I wanna cry, holy shit what do we do? I really need to cry. What do we do?" : A brief glimpse into my brain functioning during panic.

Then a man came charging through the main floor stairwell door. Me and the hubs both shouted out. I  begged  asked the stranger to please give us a minute. If Schultz even started to bark or jump in the position he was in, he would break his leg. The man waited for a moment, cursed us, then went another way. Thank you strange man at the hotel in Thunder Bay. We owe you one, for real.

What could we do? We tried pulling on his leg. The stair depth was too deep and his leg was at such an awkward angle, it wouldn't come out. We both tried various angles. I was in full fledged panic, and feeling so bad for him because he had no idea what was going on.

If we broke his leg, not only would it be horrific, but where the hell were 24 hour vet clinics in Thunder Bay? What do we do with Ella? How can we ensure he doesn't get hurt?

So I actually thought under pressure. It may have been a first for me. Nothing short of a miracle.

I climbed under the stairwell on the right side. The stair was sealed off, so we were screwed. I tried climbing under the left side. Lo and behold, there was his foot pad and all his Great Dane toes. I tried to be as careful as possible as I pushed one shaky toe up and out, along with the others. There was still a risk of his leg twisting or breaking, but we had to try.

We were fortunate. His toes came out eventually, with the Hubs engineering the front, while I pushed below the stairs. That sounded really dirty... sometimes you really shock me with the way you think, people...

He was free... but he still had several more stairs to get down. It was f_cking terrible. When a 140 pound dog is terrified and shaking, and you can't soothe him, it's pretty easy to feel like a shitty owner.

I had to basically push his bum down, while trying to keep his paws going forward. The Hubs was so good at staying calm-sounding and reassuring Schultz, while he led him down the front of the stairs.

I ran ahead to check just outside the door, then cleared them to exit, and ran back upstairs to get Ella.

And now for something completely different: The moose look REALLY angry in Northern Ontario.

Outside, with Ella on leash around my waist, she darted to the right. The leash slipped up over my hips onto my stomach and back. Without warning, she darted left, as if the flower bed had the opposite magnet to her within it. Maybe she saw nail clippers... Who knows? I flew after her, totally unprepared, and she did something painful to my lower back. I ended up bawling my eyes out right there on the boulevard. 

Not five minutes later, as we tried to get to the grass behind the hotel, she saw something else interesting, and as I tried to run her forward, she went full stop, and ran the other direction, making direct contact with my shin bone via her skull.

I dropped and was in a LOT of pain. I was bawling as the Hubs tried to calm Schultz down (a lady had come out of the hotel with two small yapping poodles), offer to take Ella, and make sure I was KO  ok. I imagine he was pretty stressed then, too.

I'd like to think that my getting hurt was the trade-off to the Universe for Schultz not breaking his leg.

After several minutes of being unable to get up, I couldn't take the mass of grasshoppers jumping on and around me. The pain was intense. Between my back and my leg, I couldn't breathe quite right.

Fast forward to sleeping in one position all night in my clothes, and I was much better the next day. My shin still hurts, and that was over a week ago.

So pretty in Northern Ontario. But it really smelled like dogs.

We still had to get Schultz up the stairs, and back down the next morning. The dread hung between us like one of Schultz' massive drools...

Anyone have a towel? And an appetite still? No? Okay.

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Day One Cross Country Canada

So we started our trip cross country on Saturday.

I took a video log/vlog/video blog on day one to share with you guys, as I sat in the Bel-Air Motel in Sault Sainte Marie, Ontario.

Then, on days 2 and 3, shit got REAL.

So, here is day 1. [Better late than never edit, video contains some swears].



You may get a day 3.5 post, but probably not.



Yeah.

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The Cheapest Homeowner Ever

So I had an amusing conversation with my husband the other night.

No, he isn't the cheapest homeowner.

As I've been pulling my hair out, rocking in the fetal position, and packing the odd box or so, it seems like I am being forced to make decision after decision about whether or not everything I've ever owned is worth packing.

As a frame of reference, the reputable moving companies are quoting us around $1.52/lb to move our shit. Yes, PER REMOTHERBLOODYFRIKKENDICULOUS POUND.

That 30lb ceramic slow cooker from 1972 that doesn't even have one of those one-prong-bigger-than-the-other-electrical-cord-safety-plugs? GONZO.

That sweet stereo from 1995 that took me forever to save up for? You know the one... with the real, ADJUSTABLE equalizer on the front? With the double cassette deck? The one I was listening to when I heard Kurt Cobain killed himself? That doesn't even have a CD player, just an auxillary plug where you've housed your sister's ancient 6-carousel CD player? YOU KNOW, for those DISC things that us old people use to play music?

(Jeez, kids these days, what with their minuscule iPods and lack of interest in hulking stereos and obscenely huge CD storage cases that outweigh the car's spare tire) . GONZO.                                                                                                     (._.)   (<- That's me looking all sad at it, while I grieve the loss)

QUALITY = Goldstar. Although, in all fairness, it HAS lasted me almost 20 years... Christ I'm old. (Image = my own, yo).

That six thousand pound ORANGE wall unit from IKEA that cost a whopping $780 about 8 years ago? You know the one that took up the entire dining room wall? The one that took a day to assemble with your handyman father? That had a GAJILLION pieces, screws, shelves and was dearly beloved by your husband?  / sarcasm font. Yeah. GONE. For a huge loss.

I only bought it for the 649 free Allen keys. And so I could get the 99 cent ice cream cone. (Image = my own, yo).

Lather, rinse, repeat.

House in shambles? CHECK.
Giving shit away for free online? CHECK.
Donations through the wazoo (again - is it good enough to donate? should it just be thrown out?) CHECK. Then second guess. Then change your mind. Repeat.

So I dismantled the lamps in the house as best as possible. We'll see if they make it to the end destination in usable condition. It's a crap shoot, really, when you throw something with a lamp shade into a wardrobe box.

Yeah, I live on the edge, motherf_cker.

After said dismantling, I have a pile of energy efficient CFL bulbs, full of trace amounts of harmful chemicals. Not supposed to throw them out, you know. Don't want to pack them poorly, have them break, and end up with shattered glass and MERCURY on, or in, our shit.

So I am on the phone and I ask the hubs what I should do with the light bulbs. He pauses. Then he says:

"Aren't we supposed to leave them there?"

Careful, there, photographer person. You rattle that change too much and you're lookin' at mercury poisoning.

Okay, not really.  (Image VIA)

I ponder this. I'm pretty sure that lamp contents were not signed over in the deal. So I sass him about it.

He still seems unsure of what to say to me.

It is at this point that we realize that I am talking about loose lamp bulbs, and he thinks I am contemplating removing every single light bulb from every single overhead light fixture in the house.

In the midst of my stress, I had to laugh. Could you imagine moving in to a house and some bastard taking all the light bulbs? Moving in the dark?

In some ways I am surprised the people we bought this house from didn't do the same. They took all the toilet paper and even window coverings that were supposed to stay with the house.

Ah well.

MOVING F_CKING SUCKS, Y'ALL.


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