I was hiking along the Toronto waterfront with my son 12 years ago on a cool fall day just like today. While we had a great time, I lost my red 3-season jacket that I simply adored. Ian and I retraced our route twice to no avail. Whenever I shop for a jacket I compare it to the memory of my red MEC jacket, which they don't make anymore.

Imagine my delight at finding the same red MEC jacket, in my size, at a Winnipeg Value Village store today for only $12.99!

Seems there is a God - and she has a very quirky sense of humor.

Some times you really have to believe it before you see it, and keep searching until you find it.

I'd say that Charlie loves routine as much as my wife hates routine. I'm more like Charlie than Michelle. For the last three months Michelle and I worked hard to get our home in Toronto ready to rent in April because we needed to move to Winnipeg. I tried my best to keep Charlie calm by respecting his routine: including feeding, down and walk times. To make a long story short we got through it all and now we're setting up a new life in Winnipeg where we'll help care for Michelle's father. And Charlie has become a different dog. In Toronto he was the cock of the walk, the dominant dog who challenged all comers. Here he's the new kid on the block, treads lightly and never strays far from my side or the house for that matter. It's been two weeks now and each day we walk the same 4 km. route to help him establish a new territory he can mark - and make his own. It's working. He's becoming more relaxed and walks with greater confidence and purpose. And we have to go around his territory counter-clockwise. Very important. Why? Please re-read the opening sentence.

I've heard that it takes a few weeks for us to internalize change. Seems that rule applies to Charlie as well. Just before Christmas the salt trucks came round to make driving safer in our neighborhood. But Charlie hates road salt (in his paws) and refused to go on the road that leads to the park that he loves to play in. So Michelle and I bought Charlie a set of winter boots.
He hated the idea - and hid in his room (AKA the Hall Closet).
I put them on anyway and dragged him out for his walk.
1/2 way through the walk he began to trot, and by the end our the 'walk' he ran.
Here we are - three weeks later. He's wearing his boots most every day because of the road salt. When we come in from our walk I take his boots off and lay them in front of a heating vent to ensure they're warm and dry for the next walk.
In the last few days I have noticed that Charlie is going to the air vent to pick up a boot or two which he then takes to his day bed.
It seems he's learned the value of his boots and bonded with them.
A lot of the good things in my life were also rejected before they were embraced.

Where I live winter days and nights are generally overcast - hiding the sun by day and the stars and moon by night. When I take Charlie, my black poodle, for our evening walk he blends in with the night and the dark fields we walk through. To 'see' him I need to listen for the tinkling of his dog tags - and then look carefully for a place in the field that is even darker than the surrounding area: a little black hole so to speak. And when I draw close - there's Charlie laying in the grass, tail wagging.
Once the snow comes it'll get easier.
For now Charlie's lesson for me is this: that which you love and treasure most will always stand out - and can always be found (again). But not always in the manner in which we expect. My ears and 'night vision' serve me far better than the narrow beam of a flashlight.

Winter arrived in the meadow in which Charlie and I take our morning walks. Most of the leaves are down and the tall grass that Charlie loves to jump through, like a little furry gazelle, is gone. Underfoot all is crunchy with frost, topped off with a dusting of snow. Here and there, there are bushes with bright red berries and a few old apple trees are hanging on to their fruit as well. On some trees - one red apple. On others many. On all of them - the fruit hangs between the Tropic of Cancer and Capricorn. The windfall, the low hanging fruit and the tops are long gone. Left are the tenacious fruits coveted by many of the meadow's hungry creatures. And as they hang there, glistening in the morning sun I see something else as well. The druid's inspiration to decorate trees with bright red and yellow orbs.