One “Magic” Christmas

Our first pet, “Magic”, was a delicate creature in spite of her wolfish appearance.  She was a Canadian Champion and won the biggest crown of “Best in Show”.   She maintained the dignity befitting that title.

The retired show dog was given to us on a trial basis.  We were to keep her for a couple of weeks and if it didn’t go well, she can be returned.  It is obvious the outcome of those two weeks.

It was a Christmas in the early eighties.  We were on our way to see Santa at the mall.  Rod had wanted Amber to ask for “Robotix” instead of “My Little Pony” (full of baloney, as he would add).  He should have worked for an advertising agency as his campaign convinced Amber to do just that.  Perched on Santa’s knee, the small voice of a five-year old squeaked out “Robotix”.  The shock in Santa’s eyes as he looked upon this delicate little creature asking for a toy meant for a ten-year old boy.  Little did he know that the ten-year old boy was standing on the side, beaming at his little girl.  Amber didn’t have a clue what she asking for.

For those of you that don’t know.  “Robotix” was a line of modular construction kits  that you make into Robots.  Some come complete with motors to allow electronic movement from a wired remote.

Leading up to Christmas Eve, we had decided to give this “Robotix” gift from Santa already assembled.  Rod’s Christmas came early as he spent days hidden in the basement putting together the robots.  Of course, he had to add some extra electronic gadgetry to the remote.

Christmas eve had arrived and Amber scooted off to bed early leaving Santa the standard Heineken and cookies.  Santa doesn’t get milk at our place.

This was the same Christmas we decided to give “Magic” her own special present…a bag full of doggie treats.

Approximately 2:00 in the morning, we were awaken by the sound of the Robotix motors.  Letting out a groan, we thought Amber had attacked her Christmas gifts.  Finding her still asleep, we thought the Robotix had magically came to life.

Instead, we discover Magic attacking her Christmas present with one of her paws pushing down on the Robotix remote.  As she happily devoured her scrumptious treats, the R-2000 series was destroying the earth with it’s little robot hands.

Magic was the “magical that came to our lives”.

Cadence

1996 – 2005

Our puppy never grew up.  Yes, in dog years she was 63 when she passed away.  As far as she was concerned she was living human years.  In her mind, she was 9 years old.

We had scarred her puppy brain when she was at 8 months.  Believing she was like her predecessor “Magic” (who loved to swim), we plunged little Cadence into the shallow depths of Lake Waskesui for a swim.  She became a speeding bullet at that moment and was back on the sand before we can say, “Ca…!”.   Through the years, when Rod would take her running by the river, she may dip her paws into the water.  If she does, she would give him the See, I’m not afraid of water! look, then dash off with her head held high like she just swam across the English Channel.

Our backyard was her home.  Given up on trying to maintain a manicured lawn, we allowed her the run of the place.  For some privacy, we planted a row of six 5 feet cedars along the edge of our deck.  Back from work the next day, we find one of the cedars ripped whole, including roots, from the ground.  Laying in the middle of the yard, it looked like it was Cadence’s playtoy for the day.  It was manhandled or more like Malamute-handled like a rattler in the clutches of an exuberant baby.  We replanted the poor thing hoping it will survive.  Many years later, of all the cedars that were planted, it thrived the most.

She was an independent individual who would rather be outside, rain or shine or blizzard, then to be in the house with us.  But when it came to food, she was our faithful companion.  Her favourite treat was grapes.  She can smell a grape a mile away.  She knew grape season.  The distinct sound of the sliding grape bowl out of the fridge and onto the counter would make her bound up to the backdoor and scream, “Let me in!”.

She wasn’t just our pet.  She was our laughter that existed in our soul.  She would make us all smile at least once a day with her innocence and naive antics.

When she passed away, we never replaced her with another pet because she still exists.  Whenever Rod goes for his run, I’ll ask him if he’s meeting Cadence.  His reply is always, “Yes, down by the river.”