Little buddies.

Making friends in a new town can sometimes be a hard thing to do, but with these two little beings first impressions definitely don't matter. We became instant friends.



My uncle has always had West Highland Terriers. He had two when I used to live just up the road. As a little girl I would come down to his house and spend rainy Sunday afternoons dressing them up and pretending they were royalty who were magically stuck in the bodies of little, white dogs.

Today now that I'm my uncle's tenant for the summer I get to play with his dogs again. They aren't the same ones I grew up with, but they're no less adorable.

This is the old girl, Tempest. When ever anyone resembling a human comes near she flops on her back, ordering you to give her a belly rub. She has no shame.



Now this wee man is, Jaques. He's the puppy and he won't let you forget it. My time off work has permitted me time to work on his naughty behaviour. If anyone out there has any tricks to inspire him to NOT piddle on the dishwasher it would be greatly appreciated. But lordy, he's cute.



The neighbour's black and white cat, Dumpy, is the dog's best friend. Strange, I know. So, it's the four of us holding the fort: Jaques, Tempest, Dumpy and me.

A sexy town?

I was one of the many that went to see Sex and the City on the first night that it arrived on the big screen.

Carla and I went together. We paid our $7.75 and had our purses full of grocery store snacks. It was a date.

The theatre was surprisingly empty for the late show of this movie that had received so much media hype. It didn't really matter because I was hyped.

It was my time to escape back to the time that I spent in the big city, meeting up with friends for martinis at midnight. Life here on the sleepy coast is much different.

We settled into our seats and giggled with excitement. We'd both been looking forward to this girly date.

A large group of girls settled right behind us. At first this didn't seem like an issue. I figured the theatre would soon be full of women and it would become a fabulous estrogen fest for two glorious hours.

But no, they had to start it all off by cracking beers, which they spilled everywhere. They grew ever more intoxicated as the film rolled on.

These 'ladies', (yes I'm being sarcastic) got louder and louder with each round that they chugged.

"What the fuck is she wearing?"

"Yeah that looks like something Napolio would wear. Wait, what's that guy's name?"

"Napoleon."

"Yeah him."

"It's cochur."

(I think this one meant couture, but didn't know how to pronounce the word)

"Whatever, it looks like shit."

So, yes, not in the same order, but this is definitely a conversation that took place within ear shot of the entire audience.

I also loved the part when there would be a same-sex love smooch and these 'ladies' would cry out in disgusted horror. Nice.

Okay, I sound like I'm mocking them. I just want to point out that it's easy for these two very different worlds to scoff at one another. Rural versus urban. At this time I'm in a place where I can standup for either side. I enjoy aspects of both worlds. I guess I'm a rurban. Oh that's bad, but you know what I mean.

This town may be the farthest thing from martinis at midnight, but it has an element of sexiness that not even Queen Street West nor the Brooklyn Bridge can top.

The sun setting across the harbour, behind Digby Island, the scene of a weather worn fishing vessel slow up her pace as she nears the marina. Kayaking along the shoreline to look up and see the old train station that seems to have stood since the beginning.

It's not just through rose coloured glasses that you can see beauty in this town. It's romantic and ruggedly sexy.