Tornado aftermath in Durham, Ontario

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A destroyed building is seen Aug. 21, 2009 in Durham, Ont., where an 11-year-old boy died after taking cover from a storm under a wood-framed picnic shelter.

A destroyed building is seen Aug. 21, 2009 in Durham, Ont., where an 11-year-old boy died after taking cover from a storm under a wood-framed picnic shelter.

I imagine a few people have tried to call after yesterday, but we are still without a phone. Thankfully, our internet is back up and working, although we had to tweak the satellite dish to get it working again. Our power came back on late last night, after hours of it being on and off.

So, an update:

A class something or other tornado touched down about five minutes north of us, cutting a swath north east and then heading south into Vaughn. The tornado decimated most of the south end of Durham, knocking down buildings and snapping two hundred year old oak trees like they were twigs. We saw sections of aluminum siding embedded 100 feet up in a tree, and a car on its side in the middle of a pasture. It’s fairly surreal. I HAD to get to work this morning, but had to take a 20 minute detour. This took us down a road that had been hard hit. Massive trees down, barns decimated, fences thrown hundreds of feet. One local boy is dead, two others in critical condition, but otherwise limited injuries.

Oddly enough, the only sign that Sean and I had that anything was seriously wrong, other than a thunderstorm, was that Petal and Sailor both went NUTS mid storm. Petal was yowling and screeching and hiding under the furniture, and Sailor was at the door barking frantically. The puppies were all scared, I imagine mostly from the lights being off. Thankfully, we have a good supply of emergency lights, so I sat with them and sang silly puppy songs.

The worst damage we suffered personally was the wind threw our pool cover roller into the deep end… we’re feeling very lucky. Somehow I never pictured that this area would be at risk from a tornado. I guess I was wrong.

Sean and I have offered our house for any pets that won’t be allowed into temporary shelters with their owners. The red cross is here, and every spare police man and fireman from the area. We’ve been declared an official disaster area, so hopefully things will get turned around shortly. They’ve told us we can hope for phone service as early as tomorrow morning, so fingers are crossed.

Stories and what not are here — http://www.thestar.com/News/Ontario/article/684327 and here — http://news.google.com/news/search?pz=1&ned=ca&hl=en&q=durham+tornado

French Bulldog Photo Surprise

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I absolutely love finding ‘surprise’ photos on my camera.

This one of Pickle is a perfect example – I swear that when I went to snap her photo, she was sitting there, looking cute and normal, and with both ears up where they always are.

Then, when I downloaded the photos onto the computer, this is the picture I found –

Pickle the Crazy French Bulldog puppy

Apparently, it’s not just human kids who make stupid faces when you go take their pictures. Also, Pickle can apparently put her ears up and down at will. Surprise!

Two Short Films – Vela and Dexter

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Ain't no party like a Peanut Butter pool party!

Ain't no party like a Peanut Butter pool party!

A pair of (very) short film clips. The first is of Dexter doing his second story, dinner time, crate jump. The second film is a lucky capture.

The day before Vela went home, I’d told her new mom, Melissa, that Vela always had to have something in her mouth – very much like her Uncle Dexter, actually. Later that evening, I was out in the yard doing poo patrol. I’d put down the long rake type implement I used for scooping, and two seconds later I saw Vela bolting across the patio with it, a trail of fascinated puppies in her wake. I ran for my video camera, and caught her doing the same thing on her second pass.

That’s a mighty big pole to be carried by such a small puppy – I hope Melissa knows what she’s in for!

Added bonus: New puppy photos, including Peanut Butter pool party! The hot weather has Pickle, Pammy, Luke and PB hanging out in the wading pool, but no one loves it more than Peanut Butter, who’s been known to flop down and nap in there.

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Amazing Flying Frenchies

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A recent email exchange on the FrenchBulldog-l mailing list had one overwhelming sentiment – French Bulldogs, at least well made French Bulldogs, are not supposed to be able to do agility. To do agility, your French Bulldog would automatically have to be ten feet long and look like he’s wearing stilts. That’s an interesting sentiment, and it’s also a very common one. Even breeders who’ve been around forever believe that Frenchies can’t – and shouldn’t – do agility. Or, that if your Frenchie is built in a manner that will allow them to do agility, then they’re obviously not going to be conformationally correct enough to compete in the show ring.

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Quasi Hate Mail – I gets it

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Apparently my blog postings on changes to the weight portion of the Canadian French Bulldog standard struck a nerve with someone, because I received this in my inbox:

On Tue, Aug 11, 2009 at 9:06 AM, user wrote:

Do you think that maybe the reason you are so pissed off about LONG OVERDUE changes to weight in Canada is because your dogs can’t compete against the more robust dogs that win here regularly? THINK ABOUT IT.

Would you like some whine with that Frenchie?

Would you like some whine with that Frenchie?


Well, I did think about it, oh anonymous chicken shit free web mail user, and my answer is still “Umm, no. That has nothing to do with it”.

Itsy bitsy 20 pound Butters did just fine here in Canada quite recently (if just fine can be said to include multiple group placings, a group win, and a Best Puppy in Show, and all before seven months of age). Dexter is getting ready to kick Canuck Frenchie butt, and at 23 pounds of lunkheadedness, I expect him to do just fine as well.

My objections to the weight change can be summed up quite simply – grown ups don’t get to change the rules to be able to win the game. That was fine when we were kids, and our parents would say “Yes, sweetie. If you land on Park Place with hotels on a Tuesday, you don’t have to pay rent” just so that they wouldn’t have to watch us thrash around on the floor in a losing induced temper tantrum. As adults, if we can’t win the game with the rules that are in place, then we’d better just step up our game, or else take our cards – and our dogs – and go home.

Also, “robust“? Who the hell calls their dogs robust? What, they’re red wine now? I can just see the judge’s critiques –

“That brindle was robust, rich and earthy, with overtones of tannin and chocolate. He’d go nicely with a venison steak, and I awarded him my best of breed for it”.

Oh well, I’m off to stuff Leah and Pammy full of butter, so that they grow up to be hefty and robust little Frenchie girls. Dwight is on his own – and with his appetite, he’ll do just fine.