I will talk to them, but I will not share food with them

I would have to classify myself as an animal person.
I am not covered in fur or anything (especially on my head), but I have had a dog my entire life and do enjoy having a non-human around the homestead (mother-in-laws don't count).
We also currently have a cat, so furred beasts are something I like to have around, most of the time anyway.
We all know they are not human, but we often treat them like they are. While they eat gross things and clean themselves with their tongue, they still become members of the family.
Disgusting and annoying members of the family, but members none the less. Mind you, teenagers can also be disgusting and annoying, but with them you cannot just throw them outside because they will simply come back in. They will then proceed to eat everything in the fridge, before heading to the pantry for a post-lunch, pre-supper snack. Which, of course, is followed by the post-supper, pre-bedtime snack.
Anyway, I have to admit to talking to my pets like they could actually understand what I was saying. I wasn't asking their opinion on anything or expecting an answer, but a pet is a good "person" to tell how your day went or what is bothering you etc.
They don't talk back, you won't hurt their feelings and no matter what, they are always happy to see you.
That last part applies mainly to dogs. Cats are happy to see you if they are in the mood.
Dogs are one of the few living things on this planet that you can have their boy bits removed and they still greet you at the door.
Fish could care less no matter what is going on and a tarantula is not a pet - it is a stain on the carpet should it ever get out of its enclosure.
I am sure some may disagree, but in general, if it has scales, fangs, venom or the potential to kill me, I do not consider it a pet in the traditional sense of the word.
They are certainly not pets in the cuddly sense of the word.
I know people who have spiders, snakes and lizards, but the only critters I have ever had as pets is cats and dogs.
I have already admitted to talking to them, but that is about as far as I am willing to go to make them more "human."
I will not put clothing on an animal simply because it makes them look 'cute.'
Cats and dogs were born with all the clothing they need, and God already took care of the cute part, so additional help from me is not needed.
There are people who dress up their beasts just to be fashionable and I even saw a dachshund, a.k.a. a wiener dog, wearing a little leather jacket.
It was real leather, I kid you not.
Who in their right mind would spend that kind of money to buy a leather jacket for a dog? What's next, a little Harley Davidson for the mutt to ride around the backyard on?
I am not poking fun at people who do dress up their pets, well, actually I am. Sorry about that.
The amount of money people can spend to make their pet 'human-like' is mind boggling.
I just don't get it.
But dressing up a dog is not the most bizarre interaction people can have with their mutt. It is people who share food - like an ice cream cone - with their hound that is truly strange behaviour.
Why? I refer you to the whole dogs-clean-themselves-with-their-tongue information I provided earlier.
Dogs also eat a wide array of truly hideous items, so considering I do not even like it when a dog licks me, I doubt we will be sharing any food with the critter.
I will talk to the mutt, but I will not share a plate with him. You have to draw a line somewhere.

Copyright 2015, Darren Handschuh

It's a great idea, now I just need someone to buy it

I wish I was better at marketing things.

And by better, I mean I wish I had even the slightest idea of how to market things.

The Missus and myself have come up with some awesome inventions over the years, but we have no clue what to do with the idea after it forms in our collective craniums.

Many years ago, we came up with the idea for the “air bra.”

The concept was simple: you place a tiny hand pump in a specially designed bra and should the need arise to em, er, enhance things a little, well problem solved.

All the wearer has to do is squeeze the pump a few times and voila. No medical procedures are needed, the changes would be immediate and if you put in too much air and things are growing a little too much, just release some of the pressure and things go back to normal.

Of course the trick would be to make sure both sides inflate evenly for obvious reasons.

Dumb idea you say? Probably, but several years after we came up with the idea, we saw an ad by a major clothing company for – that's right – an air bra.

You don't hear much about them nowadays so they must not have taken off, but it was still an idea good enough for a major corporation to give it a shot.

A friend of mine suggested we make air underwear for men, so they could um, er, enhance a certain area of their physicality.

“Hey, if women can do it, why can't men?” was his argument.

I think I will leave that marketing campaign to someone else actually.

A few years after the bra inflator idea, we were driving down the road with our two dogs in the backseat when another idea came upon us: doggie seatbelts.

Our mutts would bounce around back there - jumping from window to window - and if I had to hit the brakes really hard they would always slam into the back of our seats.

Once, the littlest dog actually made it all the way to the front seat.

And that is where the doggie seatbelt idea was born.

We had it all figured out. It would be like a harness that snapped into the regular seatbelt clip. No more risk of Fido becoming a projectile in the event of hard breaking or a collision.

We talked about it for a while, but due to our complete and total lack of salesmanship or marketing abilities, the idea faded.

Until a few years later when we saw an ad for, that's right, a doggie seatbelt.

The design was similar to ours and we were wondering if perhaps we were being spied upon.

While the air bra was kind of a silly concept, doggie seatbelts are a great idea and had we been smart enough to market them, there is a chance I would be writing this column from my yacht in the Bahamas.

It would be a small yacht, but a yacht none the less.

But alas, I have no marketing or sales skills.

I do have all sorts of ideas that are sure to make a small fortune should they ever make it to mainstream society.

If the Pet Rock – which was absolutely brilliant by the way – can make its inventor rich, then there has to be other silliness out there that can do the same for yours truly.

I just don't know what they are yet, and when I do know it still won't help because I won't know how to market them.

OK, I will admit, there are a few holes in my get-rich plan, but at least I have a plan.

Anybody looking for an ideas man with no marketing skills?

Copyright 2015, Darren Handschuh

Snow, snow go away. No really, I mean it - go away

I hate snow.
OK, hate may be a bit strong of a word. How about detest, despise, loathe – feel free to substitute any one of those and you get the general idea of my thoughts on the frozen particles that float down from the heavens.
As a child, I loved the snow – what kid doesn't? Making snow-people (that is the PC name for Frosty's kin) was always a popular pastime. My friends and I would spend who knows how long making an elaborate snow-individual complete with carrot nose etc.
We would stand back and admire our work for about three minutes before smashing it to pieces. I don't know why we did this, but we did, every time.
We were also big on creating snow forts. We had visions of a castle-like structure complete with towers, firing ports for throwing snowballs through and walls so thick they could withstand all but the most aggressive onslaught. What we ended up with was half a dozen huge balls of snow all pushed together in a semi-circle. Not quite a castle, but close enough for our young minds.
Some of us would defend the castle while others attacked. We would then switch sides and the battle would rage until we couldn't feel our toes and a mug of hot chocolate beckoned.
We would also spend hours tobogganing at a nearby hill.
And as I got older, I had the privilege of helping dad shovel the white stuff, but not even that could diminish my enjoyment of the cold, powdered moisture.
When I got my driver's license, snow introduced a whole new world of fun. Sliding cars around an empty parking lot, pulling Rockfords – where you slam on the emergency brake and snap the back end of the car around – was all part of the new found form of winter entertainment.
Gone were the snow-people and snow forts, replaced by motorized mayhem.
Toward the end of the teen years, and for many years following, I never really gave snow much of a thought. It came, it melted, it was gone.
Year after year, the cycle would repeat itself. It is called the changing of the seasons and being in Canada, it happens every year – guaranteed.
But as I age, I find myself disliking the white stuff that was once such a source of enjoyment.
For some reason I have grown almost obsessed with snow removal. As soon as it snows, I must clear the driveway, sidewalk, stairs and any other path I deem needs to be snow free.
That is why the recent massive dump of snow nearly killed me. Not the shovelling part – although that was rather taxing on my aging muscles – but the fact I could not keep the areas snow free that my brain decided needed to be snow free.
Because the snow was falling faster than the hair off my head, no matter how many times I shovelled, the paths were always covered.
So maybe it is a huge dump of snow that I hate.
Perhaps a little snow here, a little there is not so bad.
Hmm, the more I think about it the more I realize, yup, I hate snow. I hate how it freezes your windshield wipers, how it sticks to your boots and gets tracked into the house where it melts into a puddle and you step in it with your sock feet, how it sneaks its way over the top of your hiking boots, how it makes the roads sloppy and slushy, how it – well it could be a long list.
I am definitely a spring, summer and fall kind of guy.
However, having said that, there is one redeeming quality winter has – there are no bugs, specifically there are no spiders.
So I guess winter is not all that bad, except for the cold, and the snow and the...

Copyright 2015 Darren Handschuh

The best sporting event I have ever been to

It was without question, the greatest sporting spectacle I have ever witnessed in my life.
It was not a bunch of whiney, rich professional athletes catching a ball or hitting a little black disc around a frozen ice surface.
No, these were true athletes, competing for the love of the game and taking sportsmanship to a level I have never seen before.
It happened many years ago, before my wife and I were even married. We were walking though a park that had numerous sports fields when we happened across a soccer game.
When some people think of soccer, or football as it known everywhere else in the world and should be called that here, they sometimes think of hooligans, or team rivalries that go back decades, or over-paid athletes who roll around on the ground for 20 minutes if the opposing player even looks at them wrong.
But this contest boiled the game down to how it should be played. In fact, it was a good example of how life should be lived.
You see, both teams were made up of people with Down syndrome.
And these men and women were rocking that extra chromosome like it was nobody's business.
My wife and I couldn't help but sit on a grassy knoll and watch the most enjoyable sporting event I have ever seen.
When someone scored a goal, both sides cheered. If someone got hurt, the game stopped and both sides ran over to the injured party to make sure they were OK.
Once the injured player was up and about, it was pats on the back from everyone – no matter the colour of the jersey they wore.
One player in particular stands out – Brenda.
I do not know Brenda, I have never met Brenda and I have never see her since, but I will remember her forever.
Brenda was a forward and when she got the ball her coach would yell, “Kick the ball fast, Brenda.”
With steely determination and concentration etched in her features, she looked at the ball, she lined it up, she carefully took a few steps towards it and kicked it as hard as she could.
This was not a penalty kick where time is a luxury. This all happened over the course of several seconds of regular play.
Both teams stopped and waited for Brenda to kick the ball, and not one player moved until her foot met the ball.
Only then did the game resume.
This happened several times during the game and each time the coach would yell, “Kick the ball fast, Brenda.”
Brenda never did kick the ball fast, and no one ever tried to take the ball from her.
I don't know who won the game, and to be honest I really don't think anyone cared.
Everyone was on the field to enjoy each other's company and participate in a game where the main goal really was to have fun.
I have been fortunate enough to know a couple people with Down syndrome and they are the coolest people I have ever met.
Some brand them as handicapped, or worse.
But I often think we 'normal' people are the ones who are handicapped.
We go through life loaded down with prejudice, pride, greed, arrogance, hate, fear, anxiety...it's a long list.
We 'normal' people can be intolerably cruel to each. On occasion, we even kill each other over a silly game.
My wife and I stayed until the match was over and I have never felt so good about  a sporting contest as I did that one.
You should try it sometimes, it is good for the soul.

copyright 2014, Darren Handschuh