Rose's Cantina

Our old Subaru died three weeks ago. It was 13. May it rest in peace. Alternatively, may some talented mechanic get it up and running after buying it at auction. I'm sure a car dealership would have taken our old Sube in on trade. We could have gotten maybe 500 bucks for it. Instead, we donated it to the Ottawa Humane Society. Hopefully it will give some family the wheels to get them out in the real world, and it will provide a little slice of funding for an organization that does great things for animals in this community. This is our form of charitable giving. We don't buy lottery tickets in hopes of winning an over-the-top luxury mansion. We don't go to balls or lavish dinners. And neither of us has the knees to support a run for charity. Anyway, we don't have any friends to shake down for pledges. What we try to do is simple. We try to commit everyday to a random act of kindness, and take small measures to make someone or something's life -- a dog, a cat,...

I was shocked to hear yesterday that there is something called The Black Dog Syndrome at rescue shelters. According to the Ottawa Humane Society, people are biased against black dogs.   So this October, the OHS is offering all kinds of special deals to people in hopes of adopting out all the black dogs in the shelter.   I can't understand this. At least half the dogs at the Conroy Pit dog park are black. There are black pugs, Labs, Newfies and poodles chasing each other's tails, sniffing butts and lifting their legs all around the place. Most of them look alike -- like my own dog Finnigan -- which makes me wonder if there is a local lothario about knocking up all the Berneses and Danes. There are so many of them that we have taken to calling them The Black Gentleman Society. Often, I have to check to make sure I'm taking the right dog home. A black dog is a thing of beauty, danger and mischief. We buy ShopVacs to pick up their hair. We put shower curt...