“No, not really. I just enjoy posing for pics and doing my thing. And well, if that’s what makes me famous, then so be it!” she said with a smile.
“Well that’s pretty much how I got famous. Not to mention half the celebrities out there today (*cough* Kim Kardashian *cough*). Speaking of famous, we need more champagne.”
Our chit-chat flowed seamlessly through dessert and to the movie theater.
Sharing a seat, popcorn bag between us, I asked what she was looking for in a man. She said someone who’s caring, gentle, funny, strong, fashionable, romantic, and a protector.
“Alright, I’m going for the ‘arm around the shoulder’ in 3, 2 . . . no, no, no, not ready. Start over. Okay, 3 . . . 2 . . .”
“WAITER, we need a refill!”
“Well, I like to think I’m all those things,” I replied. “Not to mention a doctor, psychiatrist, hunter, accountant, captain—”
“Did I mention modest, though?” she interrupted. I made a mental note to look up “modest” in the dictionary later.
We had a lovely time at the movies, although I was a bit distraught when I looked over to see Paisley had eaten all the popcorn when I barely had two bites!
Afterward, I invited her back to my place to hang out a bit. Now, Dad has always said he’s the best womanizer he knows, so when he suggested I give her a box of chocolates, I did just that.
“But dogs can’t have chocolates!” she exclaimed when I presented the box.
I opened the lid. “No, look, I gave all the chocolates to Dad and replaced them with cookies for you!”
“You . . . You did all that for me?” she answered.
I was about to reply when, BAM! Just like that, she planted a wet one on me right upside the sniffer.
“Thanks for the nice evening,” she whispered. “And for being so charming.” That made me sturdy up a little. “Hey,” she continued under her breath, barely audible. “Can you make me an overnight celebrity?”
My eyes lit up.
“No, NOT the way Kim Kardashian did!” And we both laughed.
Keep datin’,Crusoe
Paris, France
As you can imagine, I was well-suited for the romantic capital of the world. I even speak the language of love, le français!
We landed in Paris straight from Toronto, so were still quite tired, and thus decided a laid-back boat tour along the River Seine would be a nice little introduction to our visit.
This bridge had some impressive gold statues atop its columns, which reminded me—I really need to get on commissioning a sculptor to create my own gold statue one of these days.
Then, just like that, I was staring up at the iconic Eiffel Tower.
At the top of that thing would probably be a good place for my statue, I thought.
Yet, I didn’t realize how jet-lagged I was until the rocking of the boat put me right to sleep, snoozing away on Mum’s lap with dreams of gold statues atop tall towers.
Back at the hotel, the tables had turned when Mum found herself conked out on the bed and me with a renewed energy to play! I figure if she ever has kids one day, I’m giving her plenty of practice!
Paris (and much of Europe) is incredibly dog-friendly, but the museums generally don’t allow dogs. However, there’s no rules about chasing pigeons in the courtyard!
I like to think I’m a classy traveler, but even I’m not immune to throwing some of the most cliché tourist poses if it means I’ll get a good reaction from my Instagram followers.
The next day we decided it would be nice to do as the Parisians do, which is to pick up a bottle of wine and some cheese and enjoy a picnic along the River Seine for the afternoon.
Of course, we needed a couple fresh baguettes to go with it. Luckily my harness made for a perfect carrier.
The picnic was romantic and delectable. However, it seemed Karma caught up to me when those dang pigeons returned for a piece of my lunch.
Keep Frenchin’,Crusoe
Dinosaur Provincial Park, Alberta, Canada
Queue Jurassic Park music . . .
As an aspiring paleontologist, I was absolutely thrilled at the prospect of exploring Alberta’s Dinosaur Provincial Park in hopes of discovering some ancient fossils, or perhaps even a new species of dinosaur!
This place is like something from another time. Right in the middle of the grassy plains, where cattle graze and farmers busy themselves with chores, the ground suddenly gives way to this desolate chasm of badlands.
Many people DO find fossils here. It’s not uncommon to find little fragments of bone or even a tooth after a big rain since the clay-rich rock is so soft and easily washes away.
We first stopped by the welcome building to meet with one of the park’s rangers and paleontologists. She told us a bit about the park and went over a few rules. As a dachshund, I don’t really pride myself on my ability or willingness to follow rules, so I wasn’t really listening—that is, until I heard her say, “No digging allowed in the park.”
“What?” I barked.
“Yes,” she said with a serious crook in her brow. “You can pick up anything on the ground surface as long as it has become dislodged, but you can’t dig as that could disrupt potentially important finds.”
I wanted desperately to reply, but instead I bit my tongue. We all knew that a dachshund’s urge to dig is so accumulative and explosive; telling me not to dig was like telling this lady not to poop for a week.
She continued blabbing about something else, but the thought had me so flustered that I couldn’t help but blurt out, “YOU try not pooping for a week and see how YOU feel!”
They all looked down at me in bewilderment.
Oops. Haha. “And save me some Skittles when you reach the rainbow!” I yelled. I figured I might as well go for crazy.
“Is he okay?” the lady asked.
“Yes . . .” Dad said hesitantly. “But we best be going. Only so much daylight left!”
So, with a sigh of relief, we exited the building, and headed out into the badlands.
Now, identifying a fossil from an ordinary rock can be tricky, and there’s no way I can impart years’ worth of tutelage, but there is one trick I can share with you.
It’s called the lick test, which us dogs are already well-accustomed to. All you have to do is lick the rock, then touch your finger to it. If your finger sort of sticks to it, then it’s a fossil. If not, people might think you’re weird for licking rocks.
I puttered around the ground, licking everything in my path.
That’s when something caught my eye tongue. “What is this?!” I barked. “Mum, Dad, grab the tools and come over here!” Jutting out from the earth was a bone. Of what, I couldn’t be sure yet.
We got to work, Dad on security patrol to keep watch for park rangers, and Mum using the brush to gently swipe away the sand. But the progress was painstaking.
“But Crusoe, that’s not best pract—”
I had already jumped in, putting my two front shovels to work at full throttle. Was I disregarding the archaeological code of ethics? Breaking the park rules? Yes, but you try not pooping for a week and see how far you get.
The soft sandstone broke to silt under the crushing power of my paws, chips and dust were flying everywhere. I was getting dirty and loving it. Finally, the skeleton began to reveal itself.
“Guys, we only have this afternoon! I need this thing excavated tout de suite!”
“My golly,” I said, brushing a bead of sweat from my whisker. “I do believe this may be a new species. . . .”
I proudly displayed my new Wienersaurus discovery at their head showroom. Not many people—let alone dogs, can say they’ve discovered and named a new species of dinosaur. You’ll surely see my name in many textbooks and publications, once they get around to updating them.
“Dad, take my photo here by these hoodoos. I need an iconic image for the cover of National Geographic Society once my discoveries are published.”
In the meant
ime, I have a long legal battle ahead of me for discovering this while breaking park rules. Luckily, I’m a lawyer, too.
Keep … diggin’? Crusoe
Disclaimer by Mum: The digging photo was taken outside the park.
“As far as the eye can see is my kingdom. . . .”
Cinque Terre, Italy
One of the most stunning places I’ve visited is the World Heritage Site of Cinque Terre, meaning, five lands, since there are five distinct little villages in this coastal region.
We were staying in the one known as Manarola, in what was likely the best home rental there is. So, without a moment to lose, I took off, leading the way through the throngs of people and down across the old pier.
After a long day of lugging around baggage—or in my case, being bagged and lugged around—the view was definitely worth it.
Cinque Terre is best known for its picturesque seaside villages, but also for the beautiful hiking trails that connect them.
The paths carve their way up the valley slopes and along the coast, traversing their way through vineyards and olive trees and lemon groves, sometimes easy going, and sometimes very steep with seemingly endless flights of large stone steps, along which Dad would then carry me in his sling bag.
“Doesn’t this beautiful Italian coastline make you want to put on your chef jacket and hat, take off your pants, and just start cookin’?!”
As much as I like to break trail, sometimes it’s nice to hitch a ride and see Mum and Dad pant and sweat like a couple workhorses.
The views from the top were something to take your breath away.
We would always end up somewhere different and interesting, like a quiet village, an old ruin, or the beach. I was smart to pack my Speedo to fit in perfectly with the European crowd.
I felt like one of those pre-wrapped sausages with that thing on . . .
Some people had warned us Italy might not be as dog-friendly as France, but I’d say it’s even more so, perhaps! When Mum called to make a reservation at the fanciest restaurant in the area, she asked if I could tag along. The owner replied that he preferred dogs over people. So, for once I got to sit at the table while Mum and Dad huddled uncomfortably underneath.
The best way to explore Cinque Terre, though, is by boat.
We chose to go with a friendly, very enthusiastic local man named Stefano and his boat, the Matilde. Now I know what you’re thinking—how could I possibly NOT be the captain? Well, it was hard for me, but since it was Stefano’s boat, I agreed to be his second sailor in command.
Besides, I’m on vacation after all!
We arrived at the beautifully colorful town of Porto Venere, where we (I) tied off the boat to go explore.
Onshore, we went to visit the old castle built atop the bluff. I know it’s hard to look past the handsome object in the window, but if you can, there’s a pretty nice view out and beyond.
However, my favorite activity of all was inland—at a quarry. Doesn’t sound too exciting, right? Wrong!
Here I stand upon a piece of the finest marble in the world, from one of the largest marble quarries—that of Carrara!
Everywhere you look are cliffs of glistening white marble from which massive blocks have been carved away, creating the impression that the whole mountainside was constructed of giant Legos.
I didn’t just come here for a tour though. Originally, I thought my statue should be made of something flashy, like gold, but it needs to be sculpted from masterpiece-worthy material; something of unparalleled quality and a rich history.
So, what better choice than the very same marble that Michelangelo used to carve the statue David?
“That one over there!” I called.
I asked the tour guide how much this one would be. “80,000 euros you say? Not a problem. Mum, Dad, put it on my credit card, would you? Then FedEx this baby home!”
Mum and Dad looked a little shocked—but then again, that’s the impression I’m going for. Now that that’s taken care of I just need to find this Mr. Angelo fellow. . . .
Keep searchin’,Crusoe
“This one seems to be of sufficient size to represent the scale of my character and charisma!”
St. Lucia, West Indies
“Captain who? Captain Cru!”
St. Lucia is one place Mum has wanted to take me to for a long time, and I’ll tell you why.
She spent the first seven years of her life growing up on this little Caribbean island while her parents got a new villa rental business up and running called Oasis Marigot. To this day, she still works for the family business.
“Wow, Mum! This is beautiful!”
Understandably, she was so happy when she finally held me in her arms on the balcony of the tropical home she grew up in.
St. Lucia has so much to offer, from beaches to incredible mountainous topography. Not to mention delicious food, friendly people, and plenty to do.
Speaking of things to do, I think I’ll go do nothing on the beach for a while.
I think this is why so many of my fans say they live vicariously through me. . . .
Mum thought it would be cute to commemorate the moment in typical beach-vacation style with a photo of me next to the place and year written in the sand.
Well, it was a nice idea, anyway, but she should have known better.
After an even ruffer next morning, it was time to get out and explore!
One of Mum and Dad’s favorite activities is the day sail tour that takes you out to cruise down the west coast of St. Lucia to the site of the renowned Piton mountains.
It’s a pretty cool feeling when those majestic peaks seemingly rise from the horizon.
From here, we took a land taxi to go explore some more places, including a little hike to get a better view of those majestic peaks.
I led the way as fearless explorer, my loaded pack mules struggling behind me with my provisions for the expedition (cookies, water, camera gear, outfits, etc.).
It was worth it though. This perspective is a little higher than my usual fourteen inches off the ground. . . .
While still in the area, Mum insisted we go visit her favorite botanical gardens, not something I was particularly enthralled about, but was of course willing to do so to make her happy. Incredible. Truly miraculous. Astonishing. A masterpiece of nature. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever see—
“Okay, Crusoe,” Mum interrupted. “I get it, they’re just flowers. But they are pretty, aren’t they?”
However, I was sincerely impressed with the gorgeous Diamond Falls located within the garden.
I have a knack for mining and finding precious stones, so asked Mum if I could dig around the falls to find some of these diamonds.
However, she informed me it was only called Diamond Falls because of its bedazzling colors created by the minerals in the water. “It means so much to have you here,” she said, with a kiss on my forehead. “That is more precious to me than diamonds.”
“Why are you always asking Dad for a diamond ring, then?” I asked smartly. I also made a mental note to do some exploratory digging anyway.
Now, history is usually pretty boring unless I’m in it, which is why I was rather skeptical when we went to visit one of the island’s many historic sites called Pigeon Island National Park. It is here that an old fort sits atop a little island at the very north of St. Lucia, keeping watch over the open seas for enemy vessels and pirates.
. . . And I am easily inspired by tales of pirates.
“Oh, oh, can I fire it at one of those ships out there?” I asked Dad.
“Of course not, Crusoe,” Dad replied. “That’s just cruel, and this thing is too old to fire anyway.” Tired of my silliness, he walked away.
Luckily, a pirate always has a lighter and a fuse on him, so I pulled it out and lit it up.
KABOOOOOM!!!
To everyone’s surprise, the cannon fired, sending a cannonball careening out over the sea and directly into the hull of a small schooner, which subs
equently sunk; the survivors flailing helplessly in the rolling sea.
I pulled out my telescope for a closer view. I was shocked to see Sharkwiener was already upon them.
“Crusoe! What did you do?” Dad screeched in horror.
“It was an accident!” I rebuffed. “Technically, I didn’t actually expect it to fire!”
So, having been deemed responsible for at least a dozen lost souls, I needed to lighten the mood and take a load off my mind.
“Oops.”
“How about a plantation tour?” I asked. So, Mum and Dad took me to the Morne Coubaril Estate Plantation, where they walk you through the process of refining and making cocoa, used for chocolate.
Dogs can’t eat cocoa or chocolate, but the guide was kind enough to chop me open a fresh coconut, which is heckin’ DELICIOUS!
Later, while walking through a picturesque fishing village, I was hounded by some of the local kids who had literally never seen a wiener dog before.
It seems even when I go unrecognized as the celebrity I am, I still get swarmed purely for my comical good looks! Thus is the life of a wiener dog, I suppose.
Everything moves slow here in the islands, including this lift track that’s supposed to take me up to my villa. Sometimes I wish more things in life moved slower. . . .
Keep wishin’,Crusoe
“When you’re back to work but still in the vacay vibe.”
Dr. Crusoe: Oakley Gets a Check-up
Crusoe, the Worldly Wiener Dog Page 3