There are country Westies, city Westies and suburban Westies. Well I was a midtown Toronto Westie and that’s just fine with me. I liked my backyard, trees, grass and squirrels to chase. Living in downtown cement where can a Westie pee? On hot cement. Gross.
My moment of fame was marching in some parade called something like Gay Pride. Why were so many there half naked? Why did some men try and look like women and some women like men? I am puzzled. I marched in the parade with a rainbow flag in my mouth and had my photograph taken. Too much noise and loud music drove me a bit, pardon the expression, squirrely.
I also attended a Nuit Blanche celebration in downtown Toronto. We took the subway down which was so very noisy or that is what my sensitive Westie ears picked up. I really had to poop badly so I did it in a flower bed at City Hall. There were thousands of people so in a few places I had to be picked up. We played chase with a security guard at a big office tower where there was a huge installation.
There was also Kensington Market with people called Communists handing out newspapers and punks with their vicious huge dogs hanging out at a very dingy bar. I must admit I loved Jamaican patties, non spicy of course. And the cornbread when it was toasted at home and served with peanut butter. A Westie in bliss!
But not boasting so many people would stop and look at me and say how handsome I was. West Highland Terriers are beyond cute. They are God’s perfect canine creation! Ok I boast a bit!
So yes I never had a brilliant downtown career. And I was fine with that.
And I was never hit by a falling walnut from the huge black walnut tree in the neighbour’s yard!
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