paging doctor doolittle

My pet-sitting gig in Toronto has brought me into contact with all manners of creatures:

Ranger is a mopey dog. He's about 7 years old, starting to show his age as he takes the stairs slowly now. He's half Labrador, half Rotweiller: a good regular and well-behaved dog. I think he misses his owners, because he's been moping about the house like some cheese-eating emo boy, er.. dog. He picks at his food, sleeps all day. I should see if he has some Cure albums hidden about the house. At least he cheers up when it's time for a walk. If I need to do a few extra blocks and that takes us past these nice bakeries and cheese shops in Leslieville, well so be it. That's the sacrifice I'm willing to make for the happiness of a dog.

The cats are a handful. The momma cat and two kittens are playful, with the two kittens taking turns playing follow the leader, which leads into wrestling and more chasing about the house. Last night the games continued into bedtime. As I started to doze off, I heard the faint sound of a little collar bell growing louder, and then ZOOM over the top of my head and then gone again. I forgot how weird cats can be.

And lastly, a word on the raccoons in downtown Toronto. These guys are hardcore. I have 2 different restraints on the garbage bins to keep the little buggers out, so they found a new way to entertain themselves. I woke up to find that the defunct BBQ in the yard had been wiped the hell out. From the quick look this morning, it seems some critter knocked over the BBQ last night (no propane tank) and took the BBQ apart, with the grill, the element and the lid scattered on the patio. I didn't see any footprints, because my other suspicion was that someone had tried to stand on the BBQ in order to climb up to a window, but I saw no footprints and there were other, more stable footholds to be used (regardless, the alarm didn't go off).

raccoons killed the BBQ. That's just mean.