Oh, so much to write today...
Jason and Brian's wedding was slated for 5:30 p.m. on Saturday on the third floor of Toronto City Hall. So as to make absolutely sure we weren't late, we left home shortly after 9 a.m.
We parked at Yorkdale and did a mall walk, stopping for lunch at the Rainforest Cafe (www.rainforestcafe.com).
If you haven't been, I highly recommend this place. Rarely have I been somewhere that combined an enchanting atmosphere, delicious food, courteous and quick service and affordability all in one package.
Bring the kids...they'll love the huge assortment of animatronics (we sat not far from a couple of elephants, trunks a-swinging) and the giant fish tanks, filled with exotic fish)...although very young children might be frightened by the thunderstorm which strikes every half hour.
Yorkdale has always been a ritzy shopping centre. It seems to have gentrified even further in the past decade or so; there is a huge collection of stores that perform a credit check on anyone walking through their doors. There's this place called Williams-Sonoma..."for the serious chef", it says, so I was thinking a set of pots therein might retail for $300, maybe $400. As the saying goes, if you have to ask, you can't afford it...but for $1499.99 (save $500!), I'd expect these things to come with a year's supply of meat and clean themselves besides.
The insane prices continued. At PJ's Pet Center, we found what would have been our dog, if "robbing banks" was a respected profession: a golden retriever for just $2500.00. Fair price for a dog that retrieves gold, wouldn't you say? Unfortunately, we couldn't afford it.
Off to the subway, disembarking all the way downtown, at Queen Station, from which I'd read that I could see Nathan Phillips Square--and I could have, had I the ability to elevate myself a few hundred feet and punched a hole through several pesky skyscrapers. We eventually found our way there...only two hours early. Time to drag out the books.
Jay and Brian met us half an hour before they were to be wed and we made our way to the wedding chamber, to be greeted by a multitude of people in full wedding regalia. I know how silly this sounds in hindsight, but I never expected to be confronted with gowns and tuxes at City Hall. No, I didn't think that a church wedding was somehow more dignified than one performed by a justice of the peace, but I did think that maybe other people thought that way. It was something of a relief to discover I was wrong in this regard. The semi-casual dress among our party of five (the wedding couple, ourselves, and Brian's mom) didn't signify an occasion any less important, nor did the simple ceremony, standard in many respects. Consider: here was a couple who had travelled a couple of thousand miles not just to be married, but to be somewhere where they could be married. I don't know about you, but to me that means commitment!
The wedding supper was at Elephant and Castle: my second very good meal this day. After that we subbed back up to Yorkdale and made the trek to Barrie's Travelodge, yet another pleasant experience in a day full of them.
You know how most motel rooms are damn near identical? This one was about thirty percent larger and was blessed with what might be the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in away from home. It also had a shower that almost knocked me off my feet: the pressure yielded pleasure that bordered on pain.
In the morning we made our way northward to my father's for a couple of entirely stress-free days, the kind they specialize in up there and just what we needed. What did we do in Britt? Strictly R and R: reading and relaxation. Or C and C, if you like that better: conversation and contentment.
There are no pups up here, either. A caboodle of kittens, but no puppies.
We had thought about getting our pet at the Toronto Humane Society. Surely, in a city like Toronto, there would be a lot of dogs on offer. Checking out their website, we found this to be true. Unfortunately, those that weren't pit bulls were at least partly pit bull. And the ones they were really desperate to get rid of were labelled 'American Staffordshire Terriers'...the fancy name for pit bull.
Now, I am not entirely against pit bulls. I think the impending ban is a piece of something that rhymes with stoop and scoop: I'd much rather see owners of vicious dogs unfailingly charged with assault or worse, no matter the breed. Few people seem to remember or care that the pit bull was once advertised (in the 1920s and 30s) as the ideal family dog. Many of them still could be, with proper training.
But if I'm getting a dog from a pound, with no knowledge of its bloodline or prior behaviour, I want a dog of some breed that hasn't earned a nasty reputation. A Labrador retriever would be great. Better yet would be a mutt with a lot of Lab in it. I've raised purebred dogs, several of them. Their immune systems tend to be weak, in my experience.
Nothing like this in Toronto's pound. Nothing even close.
So we took the back way home, leaving the 400 just south of Barrie and taking 89 across to Mount Forest. This route may take marginally longer--and that's doubtful, given Toronto's traffic--but it's a much easier drive.
Shortly after we got home, we sat down to watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
My best friend often bemoans the number of movies I have never seen. If it was made before I was a teenager, chances are I've never seen it, no matter how much of a classic (or in this case, cult classic) it is.
This is one movie that now I can only wish I'd never seen. I think that in order to appreciate this film, one must first induldge in a great quantity of some mind-altering substance. 'Cause my rational mind just gibbered.
This morning we took a run out to the Kitchener pound to see if they had anything that wasn't a pit bull. The same dog we'd checked out a couple of weeks back was still there: a black Lab cross they'd named Sawyer. We were told that this dog needed a firm hand and probably hadn't seen a day of training in its life. Also, several families had been turned off by the dog's initial rambunctiousness. Well, I wouldn't have expected anything different: he'd been in the pound for almost two months. After he took me out for a walk (see: training needed), he calmed right down. Somebody at the Humane Society had taught him to sit, and he (sort of) understands that command.
We brought him home. He's alternated being a tad crazy with being perfectly docile. I can already tell he's intelligent. We didn't like the name Sawyer, so he's now Tuxedo: "Tux" for short.
The cats have no idea what to make of this thing. He's six months old, so he's already a big boy, but Streak's not afraid to stand up to him. He largely ignores both of them, though...probably a good thing.
The training begins in earnest tomorrow.
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