It’s Tortilla Time| Hi I’m Tori and This is my Story

I never get pimples. Ever.

So how the fuck did I manage to get three at once?

Is this punishment for throwing out half of my turkey sandwich? For my lack of productivity as of late? My poor math test?

WHY MUST I ENCOUNTER SUCH HARDSHIPS?

Tammy popped by my house the other day, despite the fact that she is currently irate because I ‘blew off our plans.’ She came sobbing and with a cat carrier, saying that she was given this cat and wondering if I wanted her.

Evidently Tammy was walking down the street with her friends, when a man approached her with a box full of kittens. He asked Tammy if she would like to hold one, to which she naively obliged. Tammy admired the little kitten, and while she stroked her, the man tried to pull the sales pitch on Tammy.
‘She’s all up to date on shots! She’s very cute and friendly!’
Tammy politely ignored the man’s efforts to sell her the kitten, but when she went to hand her back, the man categorically refused. Tammy made it clear that there was no way she could possibly keep a cat, but the man took off with box of kittens in tow.

I sympathized, but knew that there was no way I could possibly keep another cat, either.

Tammy carried on to her house, bracing for a quarrel with her parents. It wasn’t long before she called me to inform me that she would end up sleeping outside with the cat, as her parents wouldn’t allow the cat to stay in their home.

My mum, being a true animal lover like I, then told me that it would be okay for the cat to stay here.

I immediately called Tammy, who quickly dropped her off at my house. She said that her mother had suggested simply letting the wee kitten loose outdoors, as she would ‘find her own family.’ Not wanting this to be the fate of this adorable little kitten, I couldn’t take her in fast enough.
Oh, and by the way, Tammy said with a smile, her name is Big Mama Laquisha.

Oh hell no. There was no way I was going to call this sweet little darling Big Mama. I settled on Ava, which derived from a favourite song of mine, Ava Adore by the Smashing Pumpkins.

Though I made sure Ava stayed separate from our animals, the dogs could hear her soft meows and began to go ape shit. The dogs barked mercilessly through the night. I found myself unable to sleep, as I kept fretting about what would become of Ava. She was an absolute doll, but I was admittedly excited when Tammy informed me that she had found a home for her.

Ava was only with us a short while, but if for whatever reason it doesn’t work out at her new home, I agreed to foster her again.

Yesterday I thought that I would take Seamus to the park directly up the street from my house. After all, I rarely visit this park and it was an absolutely gorgeous day. I attempted to recollect the last time I took Seamus to this particular park, but found myself unable to do so. This must have been some sort of crime against humanity, for it is a decent park and ridiculously close to my home.

As I strolled up street, Seamus bopping along at my side, I pondered why my frequent visits to this park had come to an abrupt halt. It is a nice park, there is a respectable playground, and many of my childhood memories took place there.

I shrugged off my cogitations and carried on my short trek to the park.

As soon as we arrived, I scoped out a spot in the beautiful sunshine to mellow shortly. I tossed Seamus a stick, and he eagerly retrieved it and returned it to me. We worked on his basic commands, furthering his fluency of simple tricks.

It was not long, however, before our training session was rudely interrupted. A man, visibly intoxicated, stumbled toward Seamus and I. I backed up cautiously, and then noticed that he had begun to urinate in the middle of the sidewalk. He stared directly at us, and I quickly scooped up Seamus and took refuge behind a young family enjoying a day at the park. I glimpsed over at the drunk man to see what he was doing, and saw him quickly collapse on the sidewalk. Holy shit, I said aloud, shaken.

A few moments later the man rose to his feet and continued on staggering the other way. I looked at Seamus, and then at the man, and quickly remembered why I had stopped visiting this park.

My life has admittedly been dull, and my site stats have no doubt reflected this.

I’ve been extremely busy playing Rock Band prepping for my exams.

My dad hasn’t made any attempt to contact me in months. I know that I should have come to expect this by now, but it still feels like a punch in the gut. He’s far too occupied raising his new replacement children and being kicked around by she-who-shall-not-be-named. Oh well, karma will be served in the form of a father’s day card.

I am passing chemistry, and I am subsequently elated.

I’ve been eating Special K cereal on every possible occasion; breakfast, lunch, after school snack and dinner. I now consider it its own food group.

Afternoon naps are now a part of my daily regime.

Nothing of significance has occurred as of late, and I remain unsure of whether this is a good thing or not.

Ben- Hurry up, Tori! We’re leaving.
Me- Hold on, I’m coming.
Ben- WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE!
Me- Relax. Breathe. Chill like tofu.

As we were in the car, en route home from the mall.

Ben whistles.
Me- Shut up, Ben. That’s annoying as hell.
Ben looks at my mum in disbelief.
Mum- What? She asked you nicely.

It has been almost nine years to the day that Sally and I were first introduced. In these nine years this dog has influenced my life beyond what I could have ever thought possible.

I was once an ignorant eight year old with no particular interest in dogs. However, upon Sally’s arrival this was quickly altered. She soon became my shadow, a furry minion, my constant follower. I felt safe under her watchful eye, almost untouchable to lurking dangers.

I dragged Sally along on my numerous adventures at the farm, though I doubt she would have objected otherwise. I soon deemed her my ‘adventure dog,’ and she quickly became the only soul brave enough to accompany me on my treks. We would plough through rugged brush, brave bitter snow storms, run through frigid streams, and not once did my Collie ever leave my side.

Now, nine years later, my faithful companion still has yet to leave my side.

I am convinced that there is a damn good reason dogs are considered man’s best friend. They possess a genuine loyalty that can be rivalled by no other. When my parents got divorced, Sally was one of the only constants I had when everything I knew in the world was rapidly changing. Sally brought me great solace through the most difficult time of my life.

Though quite unlike Lassie in reference to appearance, Sally is a remarkable representative of her breed. Sally comes from a long line of working dogs, as Collies originated as herders. It is rather unfortunate that breeders have grown increasingly concerned with appearance, a dog’s working ability becoming secondary. Though we never pursued herding with Sally, she was given the opportunity to act on her instincts once at the farm. We set Sally loose into a neighbouring cattle field, and much to our astonishment, she managed to herd the cattle into a neat circle with a gusto.

Sally was blessed with the benign gift of intelligence. Despite the fact that she had spent her early puppy days on a farm in rural Ontario, Sally was fully house trained in merely one day. Her exceptionally high train ability is the envy of anyone who comes in contact with her.

Seamus’ arrival has done little to alter our profound bond; he is merely another nuisance that we are forced to contend with every breathing moment of our existences. Though an irresistibly adorable nuisance at that.

It should come as no surprise that I continually refer to Sally as ‘the perfect dog.’ Sally is my idea of pure and utter perfection in a canine. There will never be another dog that will be remotely similar to her.

Here’s to another nine years together.

My last couple of band rehearsals have consisted mainly of lecture-like teachings. My band teacher essentially rambles on about ancient composers for two hours straight, causing the majority of my classmates to fend off slumber. I find these lessons extremely mundane and difficult to process, as his monotonous voice can easily lull one to sleep.

To be quite frank, I just don’t give a damn about composers in the 1600s.

My band teacher has already deemed us failures, as our inability to follow his deadening lessons will no doubt affect us in university.

I sometimes contemplate a device that could read the thoughts of others. If my band teacher had possession of such an apparatus, he could easily detect who is paying attention.

‘Okay good, Courtney’s following. Alright, Adam is taking this all in. And what? Tori? WHY IS SHE THINKING ABOUT MONSTER TRUCKS??’

Co-op was an adventure yet again.

As per my usual regime, my day began by walking a dog in boarding. I was told that he had had experienced difficulty relieving his bowels earlier (notice how sophisticated I’m capable of being?), and to expect some straining in his attempts. I acknowledged this and canine and I embarked on our walk. It wasn’t five minutes later that, as warned, the dog began to squat. Pain was apparent, and as hard as the dog may have tried, nothing was produced.

The situation was comparable to that of a train wreck, whereas you don’t particularly desire to watch it unfold, though you are unable to turn away. I felt almost guilty watching the poor guy, I figured he at least deserved some level of privacy.

I then noticed blood leaking from the dog’s behind. I quickly rushed the little guy back to the vet clinic, but not before he made several more fruitless attempts at pooping. I quickly alerted the staff, who suggested that I return to where I walked him in search of a sample.

So there I was walking in a field, crouching over, sporting noticeably large rubber gloves in desperate search of a piece of bloody dog poo. I don’t even think that it deserves the liberty of being called poo. It was more along the lines of bloody dog liquid. Plants a lovely image in your head, no?

I was unable to locate the matter, but it hardly put a damper on my day.

I was then put in charge of writing out professional documents for the vet clinic. They assumed that I could handle a duty as simple as filling out a cat’s name and the date. I tried not to disappoint, though for the date I marked down May 22, 2009. Twice.

2009? What the hell had possessed me to write that? Though I couldn’t quite figure out why I had written it, I quickly decided that she-who-shall-not-be-named was to blame. That bitch.

I met up with Cam immediately proceeding co-op and discussed some of the days events. I explained them to him in vivid detail.

No, no, you don’t get it! THE DOG WAS BLEEDING OUT THE ASS!

Why yes, I do keep a bottle of Zephyrhills spring water in my room… don’t you?