Spent the weekend house sitting for my boss (on a trip to watch his daughter perform in New York) with Trolley, Nick, and two Eric’s. We spent most of the weekend hanging out, playing some Gamecube, watching movies on the 100″ projection screen, and making runs to Timmy Ho’s.

My boss and his family has three dogs, two cats, a few turtles, and some guinea pigs. One of the dogs, named Spike, is a tiny terrier but is like a little lightning bolt. He’s still a pup, but won’t be getting any bigger than he already is.

The two cats, Boots and Puffy, are well behaved and friendly.

I got the chance to hang out with Eric, the one who’s not Trolley’s brother. He can appreciate a glass of Appleton Estate as much as a copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, as much as a well designed computer game. And I mean really appreciate, as a person who almost completely understands what he likes, instead of the superficial tastes that so many have nowadays. I can light up with him, talk to him on an unbelievable number of levels, play games with him, or just hang out. He rarely speaks, but when he does his speech has weight, it has meaning with so much insight. I hope to hang out with him some more if he doesn’t go back home to Toronto. There should be more Eric’s in the world.

I took Dolly for a walk today, and brought her over to Tom’s apartment. She started freaking out as soon as we got outside. I set her down and she would have bolted if it wasn’t for the leash. She was alright when we got to Tom’s place, and she set herself in a steady pounce position in front of his birdcage. When I got back, I set her down outside the apartment door to unlock it, and as soon as the door was open she rushed back in again. I guess she’s really comfortable and secure in her little controlled area. I really wish I knew how she reacted the first time she was let out, but I probably won’t be trying it again anytime soon. That means that I’ll probably end up not even bothering with the microchip operation.

Spent the weekend at Trolley’s house with Wheaties, Aaron, and Nick. The car ride took about three hours, squeezed into the back of his compact Jetta. I would have called shotgun but I doubt anyone would have respected it; Nick and Aaron had priority as the biggest guys. I made a playlist for the ride there, and it was good for the first half. The problem with such playlists is that they’re usually meant for summer in the open air, not night time winter rides. A lot of songs end up being inappropriate.

Trolley’s place is a 350 acre farm, on a long road that’s actually named after his family. Definitely a place with personality and an amazing view of the open countryside. Heat is turned up by throwing more logs in the furnace. His cat Femo is more vocal than Dolly and always cries for attention. She’ll quickly turn belly up if you scratch her the right way, and doesn’t like to wander more than an arms-length away.

The first party was at the cabin, which is a small hunting lodge a 10 minute walk away, also owned by the Trolley’s. That’s when I remembered that I’m really bad at parties with lots of drunk people. Drunk people who I don’t know scare me. A lot. I never know what the hell they’re going to do. At one point, two people put on boxing gloves and started beating the shit out of each other in this tiny cabin, which must be about 196 square feet. The second party was at the house, and much lower key. People started jumping into the hot tub and out the window then rolling around in the snow. I didn’t drink the first day (aside from a swig from a bottle of Fireball, which actually isn’t bad), but ended up buying some alcohol for the next.

One of the days was spent on a hill on some private property. We set up a jump to do some freestyle board riding, and broke out the modified GT Snowracers and toboggans.

A great time.

Poor Patches has to be put down today. I have the option of being present during the process, but I really doubt that I could handle something like that. He hasn’t stopped peeing and pooing on my carpet for the last few weeks, and doesn’t seem to be very happy with Dolly attacking him every time she sees him. He’s too old to be adopted by anyone; all attempts to find a suitable owner have turned up fruitless. Since he’s so old and doesn’t adapt well to moving anyway, Trolley, Aaron, and I think it’s best that he’s put down now. He’s lived a very good fourteen years, spoiled by Aaron in his childhood. Nick and I have really enjoyed him being around these last few weeks (aside from the constant carpet elimination). He was very docile, vocal, and affectionate, always trying to sleep on me whether I was awake or not. Sometimes he would follow me around the apartment when I was doing chores for the chance that I would sit down and turn into a pillow. When Nick and I would chill on the couch, he would be the third stooge, always hanging out with us. I gave Aaron some time alone with Patches and a bag of Temptations. Everyone will definitely miss him.

I’m bringing Patches to the vet on Wednesday with Trolley’s help. He’s been shitting on the carpet fairly consistently, in front of Nick’s blue couch. At least he stopped urinating, which was much more difficult to deal with. I doubt this entire thing is health related because he doesn’t seem to be in any pain, although cats are known to hide their pain very well. Dolly still attacks him and has somehow become the alpha male of the house. Patches will back off if she wants food but he’s already eating. I wish I could keep him because he’s a very affectionate cat who’s too old to be moved around anymore, but I think he’s unhappy here. Rob will hopefully end up adopting him, because he also grew up with Patches when he was growing up with Aaron.