Keira-anne.com

My drive and desire behind participating in 2008’s SPCA Paws For A Cause has remained completely unchanged. My passion and love for four-legged friends - and dogs in particular - is what pushes me to speak for those who have no voices.

Being that one of my very best friends feels the same way and is a committed dog lover himself, I asked Matt to come on board. Paws For A Cause is really and truly about the animals, and only the animals, and so I re-vamped my participation profile to reflect that.

While I will still be holding the leashes, it is Benji, Casey, Pete, Bella and Jorja that will be walking on September 14 to speak for their furry friends. I know my girl Charley would participate too if she were in Vancouver. Between the donations I’d already raised and those we’ve raised by way of Matt’s blog, close to $3,200 over $3,300 is going to the BC SPCA - all thanks to you!

This West Coast weather cannot get more gorgeous, and so with all the sunshine and heat, I’m trying to make the most of it. Lucky for me, I am in charge of my favourite charges, Benji and Casey, for another fun-filled week. We hit Crab Park yesterday for a long while, are hitting it with Becky tomorrow and had a play date this afternoon with Amy and Peanut.

Photo: Amelia Burrows on Flickr

Not only did all three of them have an absolute blast frolicking and playing in the sun and the grass, they also met a few new friends. Harley was a 2.5-year-old Pomeranian who was unbelievably soft and had a friendly face that was almost identical to Benji’s.

Soon after, the boys met Beans, a four-month-old Norwich Terrier. Beans was, without a doubt, so cute that it hurt to even look at her. She had the happiest face, beautiful fur that made her look like a cross between an Ewok and a teddy bear and did this cute thing where she’d get down real low on the ground whenever she approached another dog…like she was being all slinky and sly.

I have got to get one for myself. Need proof? Check out these little dumplings. Norwich Terrier breeders are few and far between, but I managed to find one online in South Surrey/White Rock. These babies don’t come cheap though…one can expect to pay about $2,500.

As Jen and I strolled down Robson Street this evening, I stopped in front of a boarded up construction site that had been plastered with random concert and record posters. One cluster of ads, however, caught my eye. On September 14, 2008, the SPCA is holding its annual “Paws For A Cause” at Vanier Park in Kitsilano.

Let’s hope for sunshine, as I’ll be heading out to Kitsilano in September to march and rally with a menagerie of four-legged friends (and some very compassionate animal/SPCA supporters). My goal is a lofty one, but I firmly believe that the animals undoubtedly deserve every penny.

If you’d like more information on this event, visit the “Paws For A Cause” website, and to sponsor me directly, head on over here and search for “Keira-Anne Mellis” to pledge.

Any and all support is humbly and graciously appreciated.

Please take a minute to watch the video below to see how much work the SPCA does to help animals - not just domestic pets - across our Province.

After two long, lovable months of puppy-sitting two of my most favourite dogs, tomorrow is the day on which I have to hand back the leashes. It’s impossible to not become attached after having these two as the entire focus of each and every day for weeks on end, and one would be silly to think they haven’t grown somewhat attached to me more than they already were. To go from everything to nothing is very difficult, but thankfully I’m headed to the Island on Wednesday evening (to help one special little girl celebrate her first birthday), so it’ll be a great opportunity for distraction.

Being that today is my last full day with them, I grabbed my friend Phaedra after work and took Benji and Casey down to Crab Park for some off-leash fun! These were the times that ensued…

…we just live in it.

The more I live, the more I experience.
The more I experience, the more I grow.
The more I grow, the more I learn.
The more I learn, the more I understand myself.
The more I understand myself, the easier it is to conclude what I want and need.

Photo: sirenbrian on Flickr

I still want to win the lottery, but not so that I can be wealthy. Though, that’s not entirely true, because my dream has expanded, and to accomplish what I would wish to do would require money…and probably a lot of it.

Photo: sirenbrian on Flickr

I love dogs (let’s all say “duh” in unison here). In fact, I am beginning to enjoy the company and spirit of dogs almost more than that of people. It isn’t to say I don’t love people, of course, but there’s just something about canines that is so unconditional.

I love walking dogs and playing with dogs and taking pictures of dogs and feeding dogs and spoiling dogs. The joy and satisfaction is, I could say, even greater than that I experienced while teaching preschool some years ago.

Being in the middle of a growth spurt of the internal kind, some conclusions I have been drawing have struck me as somewhat surprising. I have always dreamt of the married life with 2.5 kids and a minivan. And now? Not so much. Perhaps that will change, but today, it’s definitely not where I am at.

I want to be the old lady who lived with her dogs.

Photo: mosilager on Flickr

So here is where my expanded dream comes in: were I to rake in the big one, I know precisely what I’d do. I’d buy a spacious chunk of property, somewhere in the range of 20 acres, nestled somewhere between Parksville and Coombs. After building a comfortable home for myself (and pepper a few little patio homes across the property for family and friends), I’d build a kennel. But not just one or two little concrete and chain-link kennels. I’d build 30 or 40 kennels, built of warm cedar with soft blankets and countless toys.

And while I wouldn’t want 30 or 40 dogs of my own, I’d hire a round-the-clock veterinarian and create a sanctuary for abused, abandonded or lost dogs. The veterinarian could take care of the physical health aspect; while giving the dogs ample fields in which to play, run, rest and socialize would help rehabilitate them on the inside.

To say it would be my “dream” would be highly understating the truth.

If you were bestowed unlimited funds to build your philanthropic dream, what would you do?

A peafowl’s lifespan is roughly 20-24 years. After close to six months of age, it becomes easier to tell the difference in sexes, and once it reaches approximately three years old, the peafowl’s tail grows a cover of brightly coloured tail feathers, often known as a train.

I have long been attracted to the peafowl because of its vibrant plummage and unique physical stature. In fact, to this day I still own a pair of tail feathers that I collected at Stanley Park when I was just 5 years old. Peafowls are rather regal in appearance and are known to be creatures of habit. The colours a peafowl displays are completely surreal, and perhaps it is in that alone that I feel the draw.

Original Photo: Canuck Gtrplyr on Flickr (Used With Permission)

Anyone that is close to me and in my “inner circle” knows full well that I am in a period of immense personal growth right now. The best word I could use to describe this time is exhilerating. Rather than exploring beliefs, ideas and the like, I am simply exploring “Keira-Anne” and figuring out what she is all about. I can’t even say that I know where all of this has come from, but much like a young peafowl, I feel as though I too am preparing to display my vibrant colours.

CHANGE

Change is at the core of everything that I’m experiencing and about to experience. In re-evaluating what I value, what is important to me and what I ultimately want in life, the conclusions have been surprising to say the least.

Beautifully, for the first time I am understanding what it is truly like to surround myself with friends, loved ones and the endeavours I treasure and to be happy with that. I am not in love or “infatuated” with anyone and, truth be told, it feels fantastic! And beyond that, I’m even starting to question whether I even want a consistent, long-term partner in my life. I know a lot of happily married people, but I also know a lot of unhappily married people. I’m not sure why it is that so many equate marriage to happiness in life. It’s not a definitive conclusion.

The beauty of change is that it is constant and anything but stale and stagnant. That being said, it’s quite possible (and likely) that these views will again morph into something else. New ideas and concepts will dance across my mind and I will undoubtedly learn more about who I am as time goes on. What I cherish most about this season is that I am learning to madly love who I am, what I see in the mirror, the people in my life and the idea of living with less rather than more.

More of what’s good for me, less of what’s toxic.

Not so long ago, I had an experience on the slopes that was less than favourable. It was one of those days where everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Fortunately, despite the psych-out that resulted from said day, I had the courage to strap my board back on and hit the hill at Mt. Washington today.

Things started looking up before I even had the chance to lace my boots up. Just after 7 a.m., the mountain sent out an official “Powder Alert” via e-mail. Over 16cm of fresh powder fell overnight and the forecast was sunny and bright. I couldn’t have asked for a better day. It seemed almost as though Mother Nature, knowing how horrible my last day was on the hill, wanted to make it up to me. Carving was near flawless for me and I managed to make my way through trees for the first time. I can’t describe the feeling. It was the second time ever riding my new Forum set-up…

I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Being that it’s Easter Sunday, though I am not religious, I can’t ever pass up the opportunity to cook a meal for my loved ones. Despite how tired I was by the time the lifts stopped running, I had a surprising amount of energy. Lucky for everyone at my house, just enough energy to throw together a pork roast, green onion mashed red potatoes, sides and a bowl full of roasted carrots, mushrooms, celery and fennel. I amaze myself.

My family and friends are phenomenal. I’ve long said that family and relatives are two separate ideas. Though there are people around the globe to whom I am related by blood, they aren’t the family I’ve known since the day that I was born. My kindred “sister” Kortney was here with her mom, and we were blessed with a beautiful moment in the evening’s setting sun. It’s now 9:16 p.m. and I have a big suitcase and tons of dog toys to pack up in order to make my way to the ferry tomorrow morning. It seems that, now that its the last day all three dogs get to play together, some semblance of peace has been found…

Their time on the Island has been a rather adventurous one for Benji and Casey. I’ve snapped a few photos and put them up on my Flickr, but today I managed to grab a couple of videos as well. The first is typical of me and Casey’s morning routine. As long as I’ve known him, my blowdryer makes him go nuts. Lately I’ve noticed that if I aim it at him, he’ll jump and trying to grab it with his teeth. Look at that tail go!

Yesterday was Charley’s first day off-leash in her own yard, and so far, she’s been out with the boys three times. They don’t get along much at the best of times, but when they’re in the yard playing, it’s an entirely different story. Her and Benji like to run around together, and one will often entice the other to give chase.

My mom was shocked and surprised to see my brother and his girlfriend roll into Courtenay today. The pair moved to Dawson Creek at the end of last summer and we haven’t seen them since. It’s completely awesome to have the family all together again.

Growing up, we had cats in the household. When I was very young, it was Tia. After she passed away we got Murphy. Murphy had a restless spirit and didn’t stick around for long. Never did we own dogs and, in truth, never did I hold much of an affinity for them. My Opa had dogs while I was growing up, and though I loved his last dog, Brady, cuddling and playing was never something I did.

By the time I was 20 years old, for no reason in particular, I was afraid of dogs. In retrospect, this was probably due to hearing about canine attacks in the news. I had convinced myself that if I got too close to any dog, the same would happen to me. That being said, I avoided all dogs at all costs.

Photo: This Year’s Love on Flickr

On Boxing Day, 2003 I was still living in the Comox Valley. Our home is in the rural countryside, and the homes on our street are few and far between. I decided to take a snow-filled walk in the silent afternoon, the only audible sound was the snow crunching under foot. As I rounded the corner, I saw a dog sitting in the middle of the road at the top of the street and less than 200 feet in front of me.

Determined to face my fear, I thought my best chance would be to walk a wide circle around the rather large dog, avoid eye contact and pray that he wouldn’t notice me. What a fool I was. I started inching closer…150 feet…100 feet…50 feet. Within the last few yards, the dog stood up and began a slow trot in my immediate direction. “Oh god, I’m toast.” I started to panic on the inside.

As the beast closed in, I began to realize just how large my soon-to-be opponent really was. There was nowhere I could run and nowhere I could hide. The dog was in front of me, up on its hind legs with its paws on my shoulders. I was no match for this animal’s strength and within a split second, found myself pushed backwards into a snowbank; the dog was now on top of me.

And then he started licking my face. All I could do was laugh.

To say this caught me off guard and entirely by surprise is an understatement. After a few moments, I picked myself up out of the snow to learn that I had a new walking companion. The dog, who I soon learned was called Rowdy, lived at a house just up the street and, despite his gargantuan frame, was only a year old. This was a canine who, when standing upright, was taller than me. I’m 5’9”.

And so, this became our routine and Rowdy became my buddy. Each day I’d come home from work to find Rowdy sitting on my doorstep waiting for his walk. Often on weekends, he’d sniff outside my bedroom window and let out a few little barks to beg me to come outside and play. Sadly, his owner spent no time with him and never walked him. This escalated to the point where the man asked me if I’d take over walking duties because he didn’t have the time (or the desire, I expect). Heartbroken at the thought, there was no way I could neglect the task.

He was big and furry and smelly and muddy but I loved him. Above all else, he was entirely loyal and loved me back equally. It was less than half a year later that I moved back to Vancouver. Upon my return visits home, I’d often check for Rowdy but it wasn’t long before he disappeared altogether. I like to think he ran away and found a farm that really wanted him.

Since that time in my life, nearly five years ago, I have grown to develop an immense love for all dogs. Last year, as many of you know, our family finally adopted a new dog – our first since Brady was put down in 2001. Charley has quickly grown to be an integral part of our family and daily life. She’s perfect with a big fluffy beard, naturally precocious and entirely loving. Charley brought new life to our family’s home.

And today, this Friday the 14th, I find myself sitting in my office and entirely restless for the end of the day. As I so often do several times each year, I am taking care of my best friend’s dogs. But in truth, it’s no task at all. There are few things that feel better than walking through the front door after a day at work to find their tiny paws resting on my thighs, aching to be picked up and cuddled. In fact, the only thing that makes me feel more content is waking in the morning to find Casey coiled up in the nook of my arm and Benji playfully pawing at his own face while lying on my chest in an adorable attempt to wake me.

How anyone couldn’t - or wouldn’t – be a dog lover is completely beyond me.

Yesterday, amid running around to various places such as HMV and Urban Fare, I also stopped in at my usual hair salon being that I was critically low on my three key Bumble and Bumble products. I decided to switch it up and try a new shampoo/conditioner combo, in addition to the Tonic spray. This morning I showered, and my hair felt better than it has in weeks. It was thick, full and luscious…not to mention smelling amazing.

Being that the rain has been holding off, I decided to walk a friend’s dogs and hit the park again. Less than half a block away, I was reaffirming to myself how great my hair felt and how fantastic of a hair day I was having. I would even dare to say it was stellar. And then it hit me…

Photo: andrew k on Flickr

A fucking crow shat on me. Some pesky bird decided to have a heyday with my fabulous hair, and even mess with my jacket a little bit (yes, Becky, it was the Ellabee). I spun on my heel and headed straight for the first shower I could find, huffing, puffing and uttering expletives under my breath the entire way.

I’ve heard before that to have such a thing happen is good luck. At least, this is what is believed in many countries around the world. Now, I’m not saying I wouldn’t mind holding the winning ticket for this Wednesday’s 6/49 draw, but if you ask me, that bird can keep its good luck and stuff it.