Sophie Rules the World

The Juicy Bits

Let's see. What did I say I would talk about?

• Charlot
• a party
• a smoky fireman
• stitches
• Boston Terrorists
• a hospital emergency room
• Cha Cha
• summer hair cuts
• a bobtail
• the fleur de lis

Charlot and the Fleur de Lis
Check.

If you've been following along, Charlot (Charlie in English) is staying here this weekend, and it is a long weekend because of St. Jean Baptiste Day, which is a French holiday, and since I live in the French province of Quebec, we are required by law to celebrate, hence the fleur de lis, which is the symbol (x4) on the flag.



A Party, Boston Terrorist and a Bobtail

There was a party, here, at Chez Sophie. But let me be clear. It was not a St. Jean Baptiste Party and it was not a dog party. It was a people party, and although there were francophones and dogs present, the sole purpose of this party was to warm the house. Party, check.

But as usual, the beasts took over.
Sophie was already feeling like her space had been invaded when these two crazy pups showed up.

Can you find the TWO dogs in the photo?

The big guy is Ziggy. He's just over 1 year old and is the sweetest Old English Sheep Dog ever. He lives just around the corner and we see him several times a week. For those of you not up on your Old English Sheep Dog lingo, they are also called Bobtails. Bobtail, check.

The little one is Lola, only 5 months old. She's harder to spot. Notice the Doofus-like spot on her head. hmmmmmmm. Boston Terrorist, check.

_____

An aside.
Sophie and I got to bed at 4 a.m.,
only to be awoken at 8 a.m. by Sir Charlot, arriving for his retreat.

After a night of revelry and keeping the dogs out of the artichoke dip,
there's nothing quite like a 130 lb. Bouvier jumping on the bed
and flopping down on top of you.

But I digress.
_____

This next bit involves no dogs whatsoever, so if you can't handle a dog-free moment, now would be the time to fix yourself a snack and come back later.

A smoky fireman, stitches, and a hospital emergency room

I was having a quiet moment, cutting baguette (a long crusty piece of bread) when suddenly, out of nowhere, I attempted to amputate my finger, which required three sutures and four hours in emergency ward of the Royal Victoria Hospital, which is hands down, one of the scariest looking hospitals around, even though it looks quite beautiful in this photograph. Stitches, check.

My friend Alanna was gracious enough to zip me over in her zippy Honda civic, and even gave me her most recent copy of Bitch magazine to read while waiting. Hospital emergency room, check.

The triage nurse was a very happy francophone guy. When I told him I was a total wimp, he didn't know the word, so we had to ask the woman at the admitting desk. She translated it as "le prende dramatique," which basically means drama queen, which isn't really what I meant, but hey, close enough, and when they stuck those freezing needles in my finger (five of them, to be exact) and gave me a tetanus shot, I was feeling quite like things had taken turn for the dramatic. No check here, but interesting aside, nonetheless.

I'm not sure if I was in shock or just dog-tired, but when the admitting nurse asked me for my mother's first name, I drew a total blank. But I didn't want her to know I'd drawn a blank since it seemed ridiculous to forget one's mother's first name, so I tried to buy some time by saying things like, "Pardon?" or "Was that her first name or last name that you wanted?" or "Pardon?" I'm not sure if she was wise to me, but I did eventually remember. Again, no check, although perhaps a brain scan would be in order.

The wait was pretty dull, considering it was St. Jean Baptiste weekend. Three young guys played cards and slapped each a lot. No money was changing hands, so really, how much fun could it really have been. (apologies to those with gambling addiction ... humour can sometimes be a cold, harsh beast)

Then a boy was looking for his lost girlfriend. Then a girl was looking for her lost boyfriend. If only one of them just sat down and waited, they eventually would have found each other. There was only one moaning guy somewhere down the hall (aren't there usually few of these?)

Just when the snooze fest was getting into full swing, the room erupted with excitement as a fireman in full fire gear was rushed in. There were loads of paramedics and lots of action, and not even one second of waiting, and zoom, he was rolled off in the direction of the moaning guy. The smoky smell lingered for some time and there was much mumbling among the staff. Then his fire gear was carried out by some guy in a crew-neck, black knit sweater. More details were not forthcoming, but aside from the near amputation, it was the highlight of the evening (if you consider amputation a highlight). A smoky fireman, check.

And this brings us to...

Cha Cha and Summer Hair Cuts

And guess who got one?

Cha Cha!
check and check

In the midst of everything, she popped by to show off her new do, play a bit of tug with Sophie, and check out the franken-finger.



Cha Cha arrives tomorrow for Day One of her month long visit, which happens to be the same day that Sir Charlot checks out.


Well, really, Charlot just goes back to sleeping next door instead of on my chest. I wonder what it will be like to breathe again?


Note: No dogs were injured in the making of this post.