Dog or Wolf (fable) by Leanne Dyck

When I learnt that dogs and wolves share 98.8 percent of the same DNA, I thought really and wow and then I wrote this bedtime story for my dog... 

photo by ldyck

These people had a pup and thought he was a dog. They tried to teach him to "come", "sit" and "stay".

The pup knew he was a wolf. He longed to run wild and be free. He howled at the moon.

The people told him to be quiet and brought him inside. They put him in a kennel so he couldn't see the moon.

One day, when the pup was on a walk, he slipped out of his collar. He ran fast; he ran far. He felt the wind in his fur. He felt the sun on his back. He smelled the wild smells. He heard the wild sounds. He ran and ran until he met a pack of wolves. 

They showed him their razor-sharp teeth. "Go home, dog!"

 "I'm not a dog. I'm a wolf," the pup told them. "I have no tags, no collar. I have no master; I will serve the pack."

The alpha wolf touched his nose to the pup's nose and brought him into the pack.   

That evening, the pup married his voice with the other wolves as they paid homage to the moon. The pup dug a bed in the soft soil and slept under the stars, surrounded by his pack. 

When thirst overtook him, the pup remembered how the humans would fill his bowl with fresh water from a jug they kept in the fridge. 

"When do we drink?" he asked and the alpha wolf taught him how to crouch beside the river and drink. 

The pup remembered his bowl of kibble. 

"When do we eat?" 

"Today is not a feasting day." He was told. All day he went hungry and daydreamed about his bowl of kibble. 

That night the moon slipped behind a cloud and didn't show itself to the pack. Instead, the skies opened. The pup huddled with the pack as freezing rain dampened their coats. Shivering, he longed for his warm bed in his house miles away.  

Early the following morning, the pup asked, "Can we eat today?"

"We are skilled hunters," the alpha wolf assured him. "Today we will feast."

They hunted for moose, deer, rabbit, beaver, mice. They found n--.

Far off in the distance, the alpha wolf spotted something and the pack howled with delight. 

The pup strained his eyes and finally saw... Something white on the other side of a fence.  

Quickly, the pack took turns digging a tunnel. Silently, they crawled through the tunnel and emerged on the other side of the fence. Working together, they surrounded the flock and drew the circle tighter and tighter and--.

A loud blast cut the air, and something flew right past the pup's ear. 

"Gun! Run!" The pack barked.

The pup ran fast and he ran far. He didn't stop running until he was once again with his humans.  And he learned how to "come". And he learned how to "sit." And he learned how to "stay."

photo by ldyck

And...

Wise islanders, tourists keep their eyes open while walking the streets of Mayne Island. That's what I did and I found...

photo by ldyck

Jason, one of my Mayne Island neighbours, is a talented carver. My island home--Mayne Island--abounds with his creations, and he has more to share. In fact, I think there isn't anything he can't create. Of particular interest to dog owners is his ability to capture a likeness of your canine friend for all time in wood. His work can also be found in Vancouver and elsewhere around the world. 

"Hey, Jason," I said, "I'm publishing a dog-related short story on my blog. Your dog is so cute, so full of life. Can I take a picture and put it on my blog?"

"Please do," he said.

And so I did.

And...

photo by ldyck

Dragonfly is my dog Abby's favourite shop on Mayne Island. Usually, when we're out for a walk she insists that we stop and shop. Thankfully, Dragonfly has a lot of cool treats for humans too.

photo by ldyck

August on this blog...

Book Review: The Sleeping Car Porter by Suzette Mayr, published by Coach House Books

 What Esi Eugen did for jazz and the 1940s in Half Blood Blues Suzette Mayr does for train porters and the 1920s in The Sleeping Car Porter. She offers a thorough examination of the life of a train porter--what are their tasks, what must they tolerate, what regulations must they adhere to, what are the consequences of not adhering to them, where do they live, eat, entertain?

The Sleeping Car Porter

Suzette Mayr

Coach House Books

2022

Winner of the Scotiabank Giller Prize

Twenty-nine-year-old R T Baxter was born in the tropics. He immigrated to Canada because he dreamed of becoming someone. He trained to be a porter under the supervision of Edwin Drew in Union Station in Toronto but being a porter isn't his destiny. Being a porter is exhausting, demanding, and at times demeaning work. Porters are excepted to toe a fine line and if they cross the line they receive demerits--receipt of 60 demerits is grounds for dismissal. 

To help him cope with job stress, Baxter reads science fiction novels like The Scarab from Jupiter.

His book 'glows at the bottom of his bag, waiting for him to run his fingers through its pages.' (p. 32)

To cope, Baxter reads and slowly builds his future.

'He found an abandoned dentisty textbook on a train eight years ago...and even before  he reached the end of the first chapter...a bonfire blazed inside him.' (p. 26)

He has set his sights on attending McGill Dental School.

'He's been saving for eight yars and in only two more years, in 1931, if he stays on track, he will have $1,068 saved, enough for four years of denistry school.' (p. 26)

But... But Baxter has a secret. Baxter has a terrible secret. A secret that if discovered would land him in jail--in jail, he fears, for the rest of his life.

Baxter is a memorable, sympathetic character in a difficult situation. His back is against the wall and all he can do is hold tight to his dream. All I could do was root for him and read on.

photo by ldyck

Next Sunday...

Sunday, July 30

Dog or Wolf (short story) by Leanne Dyck

a fable

A memory...

In the early 1970s, when I was eleven going on twelve, my parents and I took a train trip 

Expresso (short story) by Leanne Dyck

 Thanks to Deb Foote and Linda Smith for inspiring this story of island hospitality.

Expresso

The hood of my rain jacket provides some protection from the pouring rain. Backpack over one shoulder, large suitcase at my feet, I wait.

photo by ldyck

Drivers don’t have to take the first in line;

you don’t have to accept a ride—that’s fine

It’s at your own risk if you take a lift;

the ride is free, so consider it a gift. 

-Anonymous

The sign I stand beside offers me hope that someone will help me—even though I'm a stranger on this remote island.

And someone does stop. The driver rolls down her window. White hair. Wrinkles. Why does she look familiar?

"You shouldn't stand in the rain," she scolds. "You'll get a cold, the flu."

If I had a choice...

"Put your luggage in my trunk. I'll give you a ride."

She must press a button because the trunk springs open.

I do what I'm told. When I climb into the passenger seat, I notice that she's wearing a BC Ferries jacket. So that's where I must have seen her.

"I’m sure it feels good to be released from that burden. Are you planning a long holiday?"

"I'm moving..." The commitment weighs me down. "here," I whisper.

"Moving to Mayne Island requires an adjustment in your mindset...in a lot of things, actually. But living happily on a remote island is a goal that can be achieved. I’m living proof. I didn’t always… It took time and effort, but now I can say with confidence that I truly enjoy living here.” She smiles and that smile lights her face. “What's your name, girl?"

"Salsa." We're sitting side-by-side in her car. I speak loudly, clearly. I know she has heard me but she says, "Sally, do you enjoy indulging in expresso? There's an expresso club on the island. We meet every Thursday night to sip and chat. You should come. Yes, I think you'll fit into our group very nicely. It's settled. You're coming. Now where should I take you?"

I give her directions and she gives me her name—Aster. She tells me to call her Ash.

July on this blog...

Sunday, July 23

Book Review: The Sleeping Car Porter by Suzette Mayr

2022 Scotiabank Giller winner

Sunday, July 30

Dog or Wolf (short story) by Leanne Dyck

a fable

Surprise...

From late spring to early autumn, I like to read outside in my backyard. That's where I was last Thursday when I heard a rustle in the bush. Was it a bear? Or a...? 

No, it was a...

Inspired Writing by Leanne Dyck

Inspiration for my writing comes from a variety of sources. One of these sources is history, especially about the island I am proud to call home--Mayne Island. Recently I published Mrs. Kenneth James Stevens Wants A Baby on this blog. This story was inspired by...

Japanese Canadians substantially contributed to Mayne Island's economy and vibrancy. Why did they move away? Where did they go?

‘Japanese settlers were a major part of the Mayne community between 1900 and 1942. The very first Japanese to come was Gontaro Kadonaga. By the late 1930s, the Japanese community represented one-third of the population (half of the children enrolled in the school) and ran half of the economy of the Island. They played a key role in growing spring tomatoes in greenhouses and feeding the Vancouver market. They were also active in fishing, fruit growing, and coal producing. They were deeply integrated in the tight-knit Island community.’1

‘Japanese and non-Japanese worked side by side during harvesting, on community “bees” to care for the school and community hall, or on major tasks such as transporting steam boilers from the beach to a Japanese greenhouse. They also spent leisure time together at golf, badminton, dances, and card parties at the community hall.’2

‘This was in stark contrast to what had been happening elsewhere in BC and other parts of Canada where the success of the Japanese had for many years been a point of contention. More and more restrictions were imposed on them; they were not allowed to vote and they were prevented from entering such professions as law. By 1927, 60% of Japanese fishermen were forced out of the industry as a direct result of a federal government regulations. Increasingly racist and fearful rhetoric by municipal, federal politicians contributed to the growing antagonism towards Japanese-Canadians.’3

‘This radical antagonism towards the Japanese finally found a catalyst in Pearl Harbor, December [7], 1941.’4

‘Just before midnight on December 7, 1941, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police arrived at the door of Mayne Island tomato farmer, Zeji Terenoto, and arrested him. He was led away with little time to pack or say good-bye to his terrified family. Three other Mayne Island farmers were arrested later that night. Their crime? Being of Japanese origin.’3

‘Mackenzie King reluctantly gave in to the unified demands of city and district councils, MPs, political groups and prestige groups such as the Citizens’ Defense Committee, in late February 1942.’5

‘On Tuesday, April 21, 1942, the CPR steamship Princess Mary came for the fifty Japanese men, women and children who waited on the Miners Bay wharf.’3

‘During the war there was a broad federal policy of deportation of 21,000 Japanese Canadians who lived near the coast. All remaining Mayne Island residents gathered in Miners Bay to wave them goodbye that day. It is reported that most Islanders felt deep sadness and were opposed to this removal.

Soon enough, the Island economy collapsed and the school had to close. Between 1943 and 1946, breaking promises that were made to the departing Japanese, the BC government confiscated all their properties and personal goods with no or very minimal compensation. At the end of the war in 1945, unlike the US, Japanese Canadians were forbidden to return to the Coast until 1949…

Let us not forget that these injustices were, at their core, caused by racist political and social attitudes, which we must be vigilant to not repeat.’1

1 Yves Tiberghien and Jennifer Iredale, “Commemoration of the Japanese Heritage on Mayne Island

and Homecoming for Descendants of Original Settlers”

MayneLiner, November 2022

2 Marie Elliot, Mayne Island & The Outer Gulf Islands A History

, 1984

3David and Andrea Spalding, Georgina Montgomery and Lawrence

 Pitt, "Southern Gulf Islands of British Columbia", 1995

4More Tales from the Outer Gulf Islands:

An Anthology of Memories and Ancedotes

The Gulf islands’ Branch of the British Columbia Historical

 Federation, 1993

In 1987, the Japanese Memorial Gardens were the brainchild of the newly formed Mayne Island Parks and Recreation Commission. Work commenced and donations of cherry trees and other plants were given by the Nagata and Otzuki families and other residents. Unfortunately, work stopped when drainage problems were encountered. As all solutions were expensive and money was required elsewhere in the park, the gardens were neglected for twelve years. In 1999, volunteer Commissioner Don Hubert led an army of volunteers who breathed new life into the gardens.

‘[The] Japanese Memorial Gardens… exists thanks to the enormous donations of time and support of Mayne Islanders, as well as the continuous work by the volunteers who manage it. This is a collective acknowledgment of the painful past and a celebration of our Japanese community members. It is a very significant act on our small island. The story of this garden is possibly unique in BC.’

“Commemoration of the Japanese Heritage on Mayne Island

and Homecoming for Descendants of Original Settlers”

Yves Tiberghien and Jennifer Iredale, MayneLiner, November 2022

July on this blog...

Mrs. Kenneth James Stevens Wants A Baby by Leanne Dyck (Ch 26)

 Chapter twenty-five: Kathleen tells Aster about what happened to Kenneth James or tries to--Aster refuses to listen. What will become of her? Does this story have a happy ending?

photo by ldyck

Chapter twenty-six

After

The clicking of needles matched the rocking of her chair. Knit. Purl. Knit. P—. The needles fell out of her hands to the floor. Her body was thrown against the chair; her eyes rolled into her skull. As if pulled by a string, she rose to her feet. Her body moved like she was made of wood like she was a marionette. The knitting basket stood in her way. Her right leg kicked out toppling it. Needles and yarn showered the floor.

Thud! Blind, she crashed into the wall. She stumbled back and moved over two inches. Second attempt successful, she left the living room and entered the kitchen. She passed fridge, sink, stove. Turning left into the utility room, she descended the creaking wooden stairs to the basement. Knitted slippers on cold concrete, she faced a grey wall. Her right foot swung back, then forward, and into the wall. She didn’t flinch. The wall crumbled to dust, revealing a tunnel four feet wide by six feet high. Unaided by light or sight, she found a grooved path and, with arms outstretched, she entered the tunnel. Where others would have faltered, the blind elderly woman wove past dangling roots and over rocks. Further down the path, she plowed into the edge of her life. Sliding her outstretched hands up and down, and to the left and right, she searched for a gap, but the darkness was unyielding. Spread eagle, she squeezed her fingertips and the toes of her slippers into the void. A piercing white light poured out of the dark, wrapped around her, and melted her body. Flesh and bone dissolved into a single water droplet. Transformed she travelled in the winds of time—a silent witness, observing but not observed.

One sky-blue, sun-filled day, a little girl ran outside to play. That single water droplet fell from the sky, onto her hand and was immediately absorbed. Enwrapped by unexplained happiness, the child smiled.

Thank you for reading Mrs. Kenneth James Stevens Wants A Baby

I enjoyed sharing this story with you.

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Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton

All We Left Behind by D. K. Graham

While writing and re-writing Mrs. Kenneth James Stevens Wants A Baby, I gained inspiration from these books.

July on this blog...

This month I'll also review 2022's Scotiabank Giller winner--The Sleeping Car Porter and I'll also be sharing two short stories and one article such as...