On Dogs and Dog Days

How I have neglected my website these past two months! John and I landed safely back in Cowichan Bay after a couple of weeks of meandering around the Gulf Islands taking pictures, fouling the prop, etc. etc. There we were in Princess Bay at anchor. We were quite pleased with ourselves until we realized we’d backed over the darn dinghy-painter and wrapped it round and round the prop. FYI, we didn’t use the word ‘darn’.
So the man I love took off his shirt and girded his loins and just as he was readying himself for a jump into the water, and I was wringing my hands and worrying who would marry me if he drowned, when a diver swam by. Yes, a diver. A lovely man from Seattle whose wife talked him into helping us – he dove on the prop five or six times and unwrapped and cut away enough line that we could continue our voyage without having to find a diver from somewhere else. God loves us.
The man who dove on our boat didn’t want to come for dinner, so I dropped off some brandied blackberry jam instead and we fed another, Canadian, couple who had rowed over to offer moral support. We had such a nice evening, and the whole time we were eating and drinking and laughing and exchanging stories, our prop was innocent of dinghy-painter. Knowing this made the food taste even better.
After that, how could we lose? We motored to Montague Harbour and stayed a couple of days and visited with some friends, and then we made our way to Port Browning to drop books off at the bookstore and take photographs for an article that had been commissioned by 48 North magazine.
Then we came home with no mechanical issues whatsoever, docked neatly without hitting anything, and I finished all my article-writing before labour day.
I lucked out this year – two or three magazine editors actually got back to me. Mostly magazine editors don’t talk to writers because it just encourages them. Then the editor of one mag said he thought he could publish four articles from me a year, which is great. To my surprise, in August I was published in four different magazines. I hope there was no overlap – I was too frightened to look.
Just as I was sure there was no more excitement in store for me, the tenant’s pit bull attacked me. I was very lucky, though it didn’t feel lucky at the time or for one or two weeks afterward, that the dog didn’t tear off my mons pubis instead of puncturing it and turning it black. I’m not what you’d call a fan of dogs in general, so this was a very satisfying experience that confirmed every vicious prejudice I harbour against dogs. And don’t anybody say, “It’s the owner, not the dog.” The owner didn’t damn well bite me. The dog did that, and thoroughly. Forgive the snarling, but I don’t like dogs, pit bulls or people who defend them. For heaven’s sake, it’s like owning an Uzi and then being all surprised when there’s an accident. That’s my rant for the month, and I defend my right to make it.
My latest opus, “Darling, the Gulf Islands Have Moved, or our Anchor Has!” will likely come out in December.At the same time I also hope to publish the first collection of my ‘Jessica’ stories – “Jessica and the Polar Bear.” I sent my three Jessica chapter-book manuscripts to my parents, who told me they have no immediate plans to sue me. Good news! I shall rush out and publish before they change their minds.
And that is all the news that’s fit to print. Our vessel works so well, we are rubbing our hands and planning a whole summer of boating next season. I am healing in body if not attitude toward furballs with teeth, Paul had a wonderful visit this month, and I’m back in the swing of substitute teaching.
May God be with you now and always.