We're just a bunch of happy dogs living in Vancouver so we're a little surprised at the odd accusations that one of the presidential contenders is leveling at the President of the United States. And because we can't vote, mainly because we're Canadians, we think that Mr. Trump needs to sit down and talk to an understanding, sympathetic, unemotional dog with good listening skills
And we found just the right bunch to help him out...
My friend Darcy is a full-time police officer attached to the Vancouver Police Mounted Unit. They are based in Stanley Park and provide service throughout the 405 hectare park as well as the adjoining beach areas. They also provide great community outreach, pose for photos, provide crowd control and are totally approachable for directions, a chat or for more serious issues.
Mom asked my brother Jetta to stay outside because he might bark and startle the 10 horses that the VPD have at the stables. Stay Jetta. Stay.
This is Richard, he's one of Darcy's colleagues and a fellow horse patrol officer.
He has two Rhodesian Ridgebacks at home.
Let's go in the stable and check out the horses Richard. Interesting smells...
This is Richard's horse "Texi". I've never seen a horse before.
Wow, he's really big and tall.
I better get myself a guide. This is Kristen, she works with the VPD horses.
She used to have an American Cocker Spaniel that looked like me.
This one looks pretty friendly.
Hi, my name's Sam. What's yours?
Wow, you're really tall.
Did you want to smell my head?
Sniffing is okay but no "tasting"...
Hi, my name's Sam.
I'm visiting. Hmmm...you smell different.
But it's a good smell.
Nice to meet you.
This is Richard and Texi, ready to go out on patrol.
So did you want to race me? I'm pretty fast for my size.
Okay, maybe next time then. Officer Richard started calling me the "Saminator".
Hey Darcy, you'd better hurry up. I think that Texi and Richard are all ready to go.
Thanks for the tour Darcy, we'll see you Sunday night.
(Original post July 20, 2015) My dad says that I have "great uncles in the clouds" and then he gets this far away, sad look. He calls it - his "1,000 yard stare". Sometimes he'll take off his glasses and wipe his eyes, pause a bit and gently touch my head and the underside of my mouth and chin. He's thinking about stuff. I sit with him awhile and then I paw him, come on dad, let's go for a walk. Mom and dad haven't forgotten you. They still miss you. The front porch light will be on for you tonight.