This is the story of an encounter with Pam Paterson in September of 2021 that she misrepresented to the zoo administration people and which ultimately led to my ban from the zoo, which stands at exactly 30 months (and counting) as I write this.
I’m not sure of the exact date; all I know is that I quit on September 23, 2021 so it was a few days before that. Kanzi had been going through some bad stereotypie behaviours in recent weeks and we were all very worried about her. She had been off exhibit for a short time, due to her tendency to bite at her rear flank causing open wounds there. As I hadn’t see her in a while, and as I knew there was an observation shift that day so she’d be on exhibit, I ventured up to the hyena enclosure to see how she was doing. When I got there, I stood quite a way back from the window to just observe he without exciting her too much.
This is probably a good place to make clear that I never at any time made her run back and forth as others did (volunteers and guests alike) because I felt that this was just teasing her. My interactions were always, always of a calming nature and I let Kanzi dictate the terms at every instance. This day was no different.
The first thing I noticed was that there was a rope (I think; a barrier of some kind, at least) across the window at the south end of the exhibit. This was where I first saw Pam Paterson, in uniform, watching the visitors like a hawk. I saw her more than once cross over that barrier in order to (I imagine) get a better view of people at the other window. I thought this was bad form at the time as I don’t think a uniformed zoo person should be giving the impression that the barrier did not need to be obeyed and, in fact, attended an orientation session discussing this exact scenario. But I didn’t say anything to her, as I do not feel it is my place to call out a peer. This will become an important point shortly.
The next thing I saw was a group of children who were participating in a day camp (as it was September, I imagine it might have been a PA Day), standing by the fence at the northeastern part of the exhibit. These children were accompanied by at least two counsellors and all of them (including the staffers) were calling out to Kanzi loudly, trying to get her attention and draw her down to them. That was precisely what we had been asked not to do: to deliberately try to get her attention or wind her up in any way. I believe Pam is hard of hearing so it’s possible she didn’t hear them from where she had positioned herself; however, it would have been impossible for her not to have noticed them waving and jumping up and down. In any event, she made no effort to stop this group from their aggressive activities. Eventually they moved on and it grew more peaceful at the exhibit. I was still standing away from the glass, talking to another volunteer (Nancy) who was working at the Hyena Wayfinder position. She observed everything I am telling you about that day.
Inevitably, however, Kanzi eventually realized I was there; whether by sight or scent or both, I really don’t know, but she locked eyes with me and immediately headed to the small gap between the fence and window at the south end of the eastern viewing place. She began her usual low growl (sounds very much like a purr) which is how she always calls me, and when I didn’t go to her right away, still trying to be respectful of her issues, she began to grow agitated, bouncing back and forth between the gap and the window to see why I wasn’t coming to her. Eventually her frustration grew too much for me to bear, so I walked over to the main part of the window and crouched down at my usual spot: a specific panel that has a tiny gap underneath it where Kanzi can smell me. She came right over and slowly began to calm down as I talked quietly to her and kept my hand on the glass for her to inspect. She tried a couple of times to get me to play by jumping away from the window and cocking her neck, but I wouldn’t bite and remained where I was. Finally she just stayed there for a while, alternating between smelling me and looking me in the face. Her eyes grew softer and her tail went straight up; she continued purring quietly and we just stayed like that for a minute or two.
It was at that point that I suddenly heard a voice hissing in my ear, “Isn’t that exactly what we’re not supposed to do?” It startled me; when I looked around and realized all the other guests in the area had heard this as well, it embarrassed and angered me. I knew, obviously, that it was Pam, finally pried out of her “station” to come and berate me. I took a moment to try to compose myself then slowly stood up. “No, Pam.” I said, “we were asked not to excite her or try to get her running, or deliberately engage with her in that way.” Had Pam been properly observing, she would have easily noted that I had done none of those things and, in fact, had been a calming effect on Kanzi once she had noticed me of her own accord. Then I leaned in closer to Pam and said, very clearly, “Don’t you ever call me out like that again in front of a crowd.” I looked her in the eyes to drive my point home, then left the area. Nancy would have been witness to all of this as well. No matter what Pam thought of my actions, she had no right to act in that manner; making matters worse, she was completely wrong in her conclusions. But I was too angry and humiliated to engage any further at that time, so I moved over to the benches by the Watusi cattle and sat there for a bit, trying to calm down. This proved ineffective so, wishing to avoid any further confrontation, I got up and headed to the Canadian Domain for a couple of hours. When I finally passed by the hyena exhibit again, Pam and Nancy were long gone. To the best of my knowledge, I have not seen her since that day.
Quick note here: none of what I know was asked of us was conjecture; I had had discussions with multiple keepers concerning how to act around Kanzi and everything I did that day was sanctioned by all of them.
Now, in retrospect I should probably have filed a complaint about Pam before I left the zoo that day, but that isn’t ordinarily my style, nor did I really wish to once again be ignored by education staff, so I simply went home and tried to process the events. A couple of days later, through an email exchange with Heather House, I learned that Pam had obviously taken a different approach and complained about me, although I cannot imagine she related the same story I have written here. When I was told Heather wanted me to come in to discuss my “interactions with animals,” that was absolutely the last straw and I quit my position in a reply to her (and others).
On my next zoo visit I came to find out that, not content with simply stirring the pot with management, Pam had poisoned the entire well by telling other volunteers her version of events.That is a woeful breach of my privacy and she had absolutely no right to do that.Yet, rather than be reproached for any of this, a week or so later she was awarded the Volunteer of the Year prize; and thenshe went on to garner the same award from CAZA. What an absolute crock.
My last shot ever
On the visit to the zoo the day I was thrown out and banned, I encountered a new barrier at the hyena enclosure, this time in front of the eastern enclosure where Pam had attacked me. I took a shot of it and posted on my own FB page to only Friends how sometimes being an asshole has farther-reaching effects than perhaps originally intended. Pam was not there; I did not say she was there; I did not mention her name in the body of the post; I have no idea why any of them were still stalking me that day, so I am completely in the dark as to what happened after that. All I know is, in a nutshell: Pam behaved extremely badly in her official capacity as a uniformed volunteer on shift; she went and told a story to management clearly designed to throw me under the bus; she repeated this story to other volunteers; and now not only have I been forced to stay away from Kanziand the other animals I love so dearly for 2 ½ years, but in their proposals they are still trying to protect and coddle Pam. There is nothing even remotely “reasonable” about this, and it has shattered my heart and soul so completely it’s doubtful I will ever be whole again.
This seems a good place to mention that had I any intentions of any sort of revenge on Pam, I would have done it by now. The zoo gave me all of her contact info – including home address – while I volunteered there. So they may not be quite as worried about everyone’s safety as they claim.
And that’s how we got here. And it’s why I can never accept any proposal that centres on Pam’s wishes.
He passed away on Remembrance Day in 2016. For a few years the arrival of his birthday was tough on us, but it's not been as strong a sense of loss recently. That's how it's supposed to work, I hear.
But for some reason, yesterday's birthday came with some very unexpected, seemingly unrelated events which all brought his memory squarely into the front of my mind.
I don't think I'll be able to adequately explain all of the connections, but I'm certainly going to try in this wee post.
First of all, Dad instilled in me the love of playing the piano. He was very talented (and his older sister was a piano teacher for many years), and I loved to hear him sit down and pour something out. So his 88th birthday, which was yesterday, is a very significant one, as there are 88 keys on a piano.
Secondly, I took an animal transport call for an injured rabbit yesterday. The pickup was in Bowmanville, but it wasn't until I was almost there that I realized the significance of being in that town on his birthday. My Dad passed away in a care facility in Bowmanville, having spent his last few months on earth there. I've always been grateful he didn't live long enough to be stuck there with no visitors during the lockdowns. He had impeccable timing, actually, as he had breakfast on November 9, 2016, then learned of Trump's election, and immediately fell into a coma from which he only very briefly emerged (this story has the details of that) before passing away later in the week. My running dark joke is that Trump killed him, but either way I do think it's funny that he lingered for a few years after his last major stroke before just saying "enough" right after he heard that news.
Next we have the news of Raquel Welch's passing. This connection is an odd one. I used to watch Laugh-In with my folks as a young man, late in its run. One night there was a joke that Dan Rowan delivered during the "News of the Future" segment, and my Dad laughed so hard at it I thought he was going to hurt himself. Being eight or nine years old, I didn't understand it so I asked him to explain it to me. He took his time, trying to figure out exactly what to say, but eventually told me something to the effect that "Raquel Welch was known for a rather large chest," demonstrating this with his hands. I think this must have been very brave of him, because my Mom was there, too, and I'm absolutely certain this did not sit well with her. In any event, I went through myriad old YouTube videos and finally found the clip in question a couple of weeks ago. You can share in the joy at the link below:
I can see exactly where all of us were when this happened, like it was yesterday. But until I found this online, I had only heard this joke that one time, over 50 years ago. Unbelievable.
Then finally I saw a couple of clips today from a show I don't happen to watch these days, but have in the past. The show is The Masked Singer and there was a pretty spectacular "reveal" on the most recent episode, which I learned of today.
When I was a very young man, I loved The Dick Van Dyke show. Though the resemblance was slight (they were both tall, thin, and dark-haired), he always reminded me of my Dad in those days. I was about the age of Richie when I watched the series in syndication, and then throw in the two huge kids' movies he starred in during the '60s (Mary Poppins and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang) and you can understand how important DVD was to me back then. But it truly was how much of my Dad I saw in him that started it all. And there he was on the stage at 97 years young, in a reveal so legendary it reduced at least one of the panel to tears.
So. There are all the very weird connections to my Dad that popped up in the past 36 or so hours. We all miss him a lot, but it really seems he's not gone all that far away.
Greetings, all. I have something to share with you that I would like to keep separate from my "business site," so I have returned to this nearly-defunct blog to do so. If any of this is news to you, it's going to be a bit shocking.
News item in the winter of 2021
On or about Groundhog Day in 2021 (February 3 is the timestamp of this video; if memory serves, this all took place the day before) I was doing a "Virtual Tour" for the Toronto zoo on their Twitch channel (which was operated by BriziCam and is now the "ZooLife" channel on its own site). Some of you will remember seeing me back then, with my half-hour "Expert Talks" several times a week as part of a three-person team, Volunteers all, who had been given the monumental task of keeping the zoo relevant during Covid lockdowns. That month Ontario was in the midst of its second major lockdown, which had begun at the end of the previous November and lasted over half a year in total, necessitating the complete closure of the zoo to any visitors whatsoever during that time. Or, at least, that was the intention.
On February 2nd, a "Stay at Home" order was still in effect for all of Ontario. Residents were allowed to venture outside of their homes for essential services (such as groceries), but even then were strongly encouraged to have them delivered in a non-contact manner. Vaccines were not available to anyone in the general public (I cannot remember if some Health-Care Workers had received any yet), and consensus had yet to be reached on whether the virus were airborne or contact-contagious. The zoo, like every attraction with an indoor component and most that were even all outside, was closed to visitors. This was stated on the Ministry of Ontario's Covid information page. Keepers and their support workers were the only ones theoretically allowed on the grounds; all other staff were supposed to be working from home. Volunteers were not allowed under any circumstances, which was quite a hardship for those of us who needed time with the animals for the benefit of our mental health, especially in the dark days of February. I even communicated this on more than one occasion to the zoo's CEO, Dolf Dejong.
I used the word "theoretically" in that previous paragraph because of what I am about to tell and show you. On Feb 2 I was providing commentary for the camera in the Giraffe House, where mom Mstari, dad Kiko, and eight-month-old Amani (the most valuable giraffe in North America, genetically) were spending their winter months. While we were all watching the camera, we noticed Mstari and Amani standing flush against the back wall, nervously, while Kiko was at the very front of the exhibit, stretching his neck over the wire, clearly interacting with someone out of camera view. Assuming there was a Keeper in there who was perhaps handing out treats, I encouraged the Moderator (who had taken control of the camera, as was usual for the talks) to bring the focus to the area in front of the exhibit so everyone could see what was happening. She did this, and I was absolutely stunned to see what was actually going on.
[Note: all of this can be seen in the video. This is just a summary of events.]
From Dolf's IG story
In front of the exhibit there was a Keeper (incidentally about six months pregnant at the time) with her back to Kiko, clearly talking to someone just out of view. She reached out her ungloved hand and gave Kiko a treat, then the camera pulled back to reveal... a visitor. A visitor with a mask on (the old, semi-functional type) and no gloves, who stood about a foot away from the Keeper (well inside the stated six-foot-circle for Social Distancing). The keeper then handed this visitor something and they held out their hand for Kiko to eat the treat from them, which he did. This visitor was handed more goodies, but Kiko backed away and the camera followed him, bringing into view a clearly agitated Mstari (who was trying to get away but had no place to go.) There followed some ragged movement of the camera which was common in those days, as when the Mods' cam control ran out (it was on a timer) it became available for anyone watching to point it wherever they wanted. I'd have edited this part out and compressed the video, but I wanted to post this full copy so it would be clear it was in no way manipulated after the fact.
From Dolf's IG feed
Within a couple of minutes – around the 3:40 mark – the focus returns to Kiko and gradually pulls back to show the front of the exhibit again. Suddenly the camera pulls to our right, and we are shown that there are several guests in the Giraffe House, all standing far too close together, and a second Keeper... and the CEO of the zoo. Dolf is about a foot away from the other Keeper, who is about a foot away from a visitor, who... well, you get the idea. Everyone there appears to get a chance to feed the giraffes at one time or another. I cannot be 100% sure that Jennifer Tracey is also visible in that video, but we (as Volunteers) were later informed that she set this up and was, in fact, there.
When the food is passed from the Keeper's hand to the guests, there is quite clearly skin-to-skin contact on virtually every occasion. I see no evidence of sanitizer being used at any point; obviously, I cannot guarantee this but most definitely none is used while they are being handed food which then is eaten by Kiko. This happens over and over again, through multiple people. At one point, an unmasked babe-in-arms can also be visible in the video.
A couple of other points: the giraffes had not (supposedly) seen anyone but their Keepers for over two months at this point so were certainly not used to having crowds in the building; and the group does not leave until the 12-minute mark of this video, meaning that is the least amount of time they spent in tight quarters with the giraffes.
Here is the full video. Afterwards, I have a few more points about the circumstances, and a couple of thoughts about this happening a second time a few weeks later. (I recommend muting this video; the sound is looped music and it gets really annoying quite quickly. I should have cut the sound before uploading it!)
I want to stress here that, no matter what we currently know about the Covid virus, this was in early 2021 where everyone was cautioned to use hand sanitizer frequently; wear masks indoors at all times; social distance at least six feet from everyone else; wear masks outdoors if you cannot maintain social distancing; do not gather in groups of any size that are not all from the same household. Also, a reminder that Ontario and Toronto specifically were under a "Stay at Home" order and indoor public places were closed except for essential services. This was at a time when even stores such as Wal-Mart were made to close off any sections of their stores that did not offer grocery products. In the face of these regulations, the top two executives of a municipally-run institution in the city of Toronto decided these specific rules did not apply to them. Also remember: nobody present that day had been vaccinated yet. Every single thing about this scenario is wrong.
Oh, but it gets worse.
From Dolf's IG story
I happened to mention this to a Keeper who worked with the gorillas in the nearby African Rainforest Pavilion while receiving information about her charges for a future talk. She told me she encountered this very same group in her pavilion that day, while she was attending to other animals near the entrance. They stopped her, Dolf in tow, and asked some questions about the birds, I believe, and possibly the pygmy hippos nearby. And here's the thing to understand about this. The gorillas were the single most susceptible animals in the entire zoo to possibly contracting Covid, as they are primates that are about 96-97% genetically similar to humans. The animal care staff were so concerned, in fact, that there were multiple distinct shifts of Keepers looking after the gorillas during the lockdowns, and these shifts were not even allowed to come into contact with each other. Yet, here was a group of strangers, standing inches away, just firing off questions to one of the gorilla Keepers.
Here are screenshots of what the Keepers told me:
Explanation from Dolf
The explanation from Dolf and Jennifer, as I understood it at the time, was that this was a family to whom the zoo meant a great deal, and one of the members was in a palliative stage of an illness and likely would not survive until the zoo reopened. Heartbreaking, if true. But tough luck, because people were being kept out of hospitals and nursing homes while family members died alone on a daily basis. And a lot of people, to whom the zoo meant the difference between good and bad mental health (such as myself), were not allowed to visit the animals for any reason. I should also point out that the "Health and Safety Team" is one person: Joanne Eaton, who has shown several times that she will agree to anything they ask of her, so any "consultation" was quite one-sided. Notice they did not consult any level of government, who had issued the Stay at Home edicts.
But let's say the compassionate angle was acceptable (which it wasn't, and this sort of decision-making had a lot to do with why the lockdowns lasted so very long in the first place). Why on earth were these people allowed to be indoors, touching a pregnant Keeper, feeding animals, and risking contamination of the gorillas? Even if you could see your way clear to granting this request (as a kind of adult "Make-A-Wish", but clearly being used as a revenue-generator), why weren't they kept outdoors? Many of us were lobbying for the open-air sections of the zoo to remain open the previous November, especially as there was a Christmas Market which was forced to close weeks early because provincial measures forbid the zoo from opening any part of the grounds. At least there could perhaps be a weak case made for this exception. But the way it was handled? Absolutely not.
Assuming this was the first such incident (which is a pretty huge assumption, I think), Dolf and Jennifer doubled down in April when they did this a second time. I didn't see this on camera, but at the right here is a screenshot from Dolf's Instagram account (but just a "Story," so it disappeared in 24 hours) from this episode. Moreover, in a virtual Town Hall meeting with the Volunteers later in the month, both Dolf and Jennifer proudly informed everyone present that they had done this, even going so far as to tear up about it, which had the predictable reactions from the large majority of the people watching. When you consider the enormous volume of information those two do not communicate to the Volunteer group, it would seem odd that they found it necessary to spill these particular beans, until you realize they were doing it because they feel absolutely untouchable in their decisions, and they wanted to be perceived as heroes in the community. It was a very transparent attempt to manipulate emotions at an extremely difficult time for most of us, but it worked for the most part. I have no record of this particular group going indoors, except for my memories of the retelling of this story, which let us know that there were many more people present than just these three (plus their guide), and they visited roughly the same areas the group from February did.
I asked about this in an email and at the meeting in April. I was shot down both times. I will say, though, that I was treated quite differently at the zoo from that point on by various members of the Management Team, and it escalated through the summer reopening and on into my eventual resignation, where it reached a head. I cannot imagine this was a coincidence; however, I do not wish to switch the focus to me, but leave it firmly on these execrable events that should most definitely have resulted in a strong reprimand from the City of Toronto and the Zoo Board, if not outright dismissals for the parties responsible.
I have copies of the video on various devices in my home, for safekeeping. I uploaded it to YouTube a very long time ago, but have not made it Public or Searchable, for what I hope are obvious reasons. But you should be able to access it through the embedded player here. Please let me know if you cannot.
I've been meaning to fill in the back story of our recent new family member; I intended to wait until things were a little more settled but then I just plain forgot all about it. If I have seen you in person over the past few days, you will already know much if not all of this; however, most of you reading this will only have been able to follow the story as it has unfolded on Facebook, so I hope this will be of interest to you.
So. Just in case you didn't read the very first post on FB about this, I'll start as far back as I can. "Devon" is a 15yo Devon rex cat (who I am fairly certain must have been named by a grandchild) who lived with one owner for most of his life to date. His owner has been forced to move into a long-term care home as a result of Alzheimer's; we have no way of knowing exactly how long ago she moved or how long she lived with increasing debilitation beforehand. All we do know is that she clearly loved this guy very much, because there was money set aside for him in her estate and there is some evidence that she had pet insurance for him at some point. Our specific knowledge of the little guy only goes back a couple of months. Apparently, the neighbour across the hall had been looking in on Devon and keeping him fed and watered for about a month before my friend Jane got involved. I am under the impression that the neighbour didn't really spend much time with him other than to look after his basic needs, and with him being a Devon rex whose owner doted on him, I cannot imagine this was a welcome change at his advanced age.
Jane eventually made the difficult decision to take him in to live with her; this was only truly difficult because she had two Devons of her own who both passed away about a year apart not so long ago and she is still very much grieving their loss. In her original FB post, Jane said she was looking for a forever home for Devon because she knew she could not handle the grief again so soon were he to pass away quickly. She was also worried about him having issues negotiating her open staircase as he has some sight issues and had spent his entire life to that point in a one-floor apartment. The situation was made a little more urgent by the fact that Jane was scheduled to leave for a couple of weeks on vacation), and she needed some sort of resolution before this happened. I cut-and-pasted her post and amplified it myself; eventually, she made her original "Public" and I re-posted that one instead. At this point, one Keeper at the Toronto Zoo reached out to me, and another friend tagged a woman who has a "retirement home" for geriatric cats.
As most of you know already, we have a 10yo tabby named Addie. She is pretty laid-back ordinarily, but has never lived with another pet since we got her from her original family at about twelve weeks of age. She's absolutely not a cuddler nor lap cat; however, she is incredibly doting and absolutely devoted to my partner (Sarah) and me. I suffer with depression, anxiety, and ADHD (so I'm kind of a triple-threat) and shortly after Addie came to live with us, I fell into a pretty deep depression that lasted the better part of two years before I signed up to Volunteer at the Zoo to help combat it. During those days, Addie would frequently be downstairs (our previous residence was two floors) sleeping while I was working on the computer upstairs; whenever I would slip into an anxiety spiral she would appear at my elbow within minutes of the episode beginning and settle into a basket on my desk, keeping a close eye on me as she did so. Sarah used to say that she would have had a much harder time leaving me at home every day were it not for Addie's great love for me. I tell you this so you can understand why it is vitally important that we do nothing that will irreparably damage the bond we have with her. I'm not sure I would survive that, to be brutally honest.
We had often talked about introducing a second cat to Addie in past years, as she does not entertain herself tremendously well and is quite sedentary and overweight (not obese, mind you). After agonizing over this for a long time, we'd basically just stopped even considering it after we moved to our new, calmer place and all of us settled into a nice rhythm together. When we talked over Devon's situation, however, we realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to at least try to have a second cat in the household, as we could foster him for the time Jane was away and, if nothing was working out, we would not be painted into a corner in any way and could move him along, either back to Jane if she had a change of heart, or to someone who had reached out to us. An added bonus: as Devon is a geriatric cat, we could eliminate any concerns about his energy level being too high for Addie and ruining things before they even got started. So we told Jane we would at the very least take him to our home a few days before she went away (to help her calm down a bit) and keep him at least until she returned, with an eye to him staying with us permanently if it worked out with Addie (and Devon, of course).
Well. The very day before we were to pick him up, Devon had some kind of an "episode". Jane called me in the afternoon from the parking lot of a Vet Clinic, because she wasn't allowed to even be in the lobby while they ran a battery of tests on him. His pupils, which were ordinarily huge to begin with, had become alarmingly dilated; Jane said he was "pacing" and the vet report said he kept turning only to the left for quite a while. This had come on out of nowhere (she had seen no signs of this in the 2 1/2 weeks she had had him with her) and she was quite alarmed. Suffice it to say, we were all more or less convinced he wouldn't make it to the weekend at that point. Jane was beside herself with stress, so I said we would come as planned the next morning and, if a tough decision needed to be made, we would make it and take care of it ourselves.
We showed up at the appointed time and discovered that Jane had brought all of his accoutrements with her to work, expecting we were going to take him either way. So Sarah and I had to kind of suss everything out on the fly. Devon had shown a great deal of improvement overnight, likely helped along by a prescription of Gabapentin, of which he had an immediate dose and a second one the morning we came to get him. I believe there was enough for 10 days, all told. Once a great deal of discussion took place with Jane, who was suffering tremendously from the stress, we agreed to take Devon with us and we set up an appointment with Dr. Kato (Addie's old vet before we moved and an amazing person just in general) at Danforth and Dawes for the next day to do a Quality of Life assessment for us so we could make an informed decision about his future. After Dr. Kato saw him in her exam room (we were allowed into the lobby), she came out and sat down for a chat. In her expert opinion, his QoL was still excellent and she saw no signs of any of the issues from two days before. I should mention here that we had stopped the medication immediately upon picking him up, as we wanted clean bloodwork should we choose to have it done, and actually have not resumed it to this point. We did decide to go ahead with the blood analysis after deciding to give him the best chance for survival; however, as this was the Saturday of the long weekend, which we did not receive the results until Tuesday. In the meantime. we brought Devon home and set him up in our study, with the door closed, and took turns lying with him in there for the first couple of days. He spent most of this time inside a little tent bed that came with him, but gradually grew more active, ostensibly as the effects of the sedative wore off.
Tuesday's phone call from Dr. Kato brought the news that Devon's blood work was quite excellent for an elderly cat; in fact, the only new concern she had was a high CPK level reading. (We had to look that up at home; here is a great link to help understand what this means.) It really does appear, from all the tests, that Devon has had some damage to his brain in some way, whether a lesion or something more sinister. The CPK issue might also explain why he seemed to be walking on his left elbow rather than his wrist for a couple of days, which is something that had concerned Jane (and would explain the left-turns, I think), but had pretty much disappeared once he had been with us for a day or two. Additionally, he has rather severe alopecia, but we are witnessing some return of his fur which causes us to think he might have been "stress grooming" after he lost his owner. Jane was also bringing him into work with here every weekday to make sure he was ok, which is absolutely what I would have done myself, so he never really settled into a new home until he arrived at our apartment. All of these issues put together made us realize we couldn't in good conscience look around for another home for him where the person was expecting a pet for companionship, as it certainly appeared he had a lot of late-life issues. On top of all of this, he has sight and hearing loss (left eye and right ear, thankfully) as well. He really is a fighter and a survivor to be reckoned with.
Now, onto the much better news. His appetite has still been very good. He keeps himself extremely well-hydrated (so much so that we were expecting to hear a diagnosis of diabetes from the blood work) and he is a regular visitor to his litter box for urination and defecation, and has been able to find it every time. Despite noted mobility issues, he is still an extremely good jumper, and he frequently leaps from the floor to our bed (mattress, box spring, and full-frame on legs) with absolutely no issue whatsoever – and is able to get himself down without assistance. He seemed every day to be getting better and better, more and more confident, grooming less often, adapting to new people and sounds (I may well be the first male human he has ever lived with), enjoying the sunshine, chirping and purring to beat the band. When we finally took the baby gate down on Monday, 10 days after he first arrived, he immediately went wandering around, eventually choosing to lie on a bench in the master bedroom – in full sun – for a long time, and finding his way to our bed at night where he lay partially under a blanket tucked hard against my shin until dawn. Tuesday morning, I left for a visit to the Zoo while Sarah worked from home and kept an eye on our two charges; he was attentive and alert when I departed at 10:30 AM.
Addie has been slow to warm to him, but all I really wish from her is to just ignore Devon the brief times she will even have to encounter him. He sleeps a lot because of his age and even just a "meh" attitude from her would suffice. However, once he gained access to the whole apartment without us keeping them gated apart. Addie has begun to hiss at him. I do feel this is something that would wear off in time, as long as it isn't affecting Devon adversely. And here's where we come to the crux of our current problem. Devon had an encounter with Addie Tuesday morning that neither of us witnessed, but Sarah heard a kind of yowl from Addie, rather than a hiss. We do not believe there was any physical interaction but obviously cannot be sure. This did occur before I saw Devon sitting straight up on the edge of the bed as I left, so there was no immediate fallout. But as the day progressed, Sarah noticed he was not coming out of his tent bed to interact with the world at all. When I got home, I also noticed his pupils, which had seemed to be beginning to constrict over the past few days, had gone back to fully dilated, and he quite obviously wasn't even seeing shadows. He didn't chirp or purr when I approached and petted him, which is a first time for both. I decided to sleep on the bed in the study with him Tuesday night so he would know I was there and so I could watch for any further deterioration. Eventually, I elicited some purrs from him at some point overnight, but when he did come out, he seemed to be looking for something (I have no idea what) over and over again, and it struck me more as kind of a stereotypy than anything else. Today, Wednesday, he did seem to be coming out of it, slowly, but he still has not come anywhere close to the highs of Monday as I write this on Wednesday evening. He was more active and awake on Monday than he was virtually all the other eleven days he has been with us put together, so it's entirely possible that he is simply exhausted.
So that's where we stand. I don't know if this is another episode such as Jane witnessed but if it can be established that he will have these issues for the rest of his life, this is something we absolutely can and will handle. Sarah works from home due to COVID-19 and I am home most days that I am not at the Zoo. He will have lots of love, calmness, attention, and access to human contact and cuddling for as long as he needs it. However, if this is a regression caused by a reaction (perhaps of fright) to Addie's negativity, I very much want to discover that as soon as possible, because there is no way I can let him struggle through that after he has fought so hard to achieve a good, peaceful time at the end of his life. Lying with him on Tuesday night I have to say I was leaning toward it being the outside influences, but today I think it is most likely neurological. We will not be running any tests for this – our vet agrees with this decision – as they are very expensive and, in any event, there will be no heroic measures for Devon going forward. We will just watch to see if these episodes become more frequent or more severe and conduct ourselves accordingly, as long as they are not being exacerbated by Addie, who is exhibiting extreme calm and contentment at all other times since he's been here, as evidenced by her body language.
And that's the history of Devon. (Note I did not say "brief" that time.) At this point, we will keep him here with us hopefully at least until Jane returns, and then we'll have a better handle on causes. I have to say, though, I was over the moon on Monday with the amazing day he had; yesterday felt like a punch in the throat. If it turns out he cannot thrive here with Addie he will be moved virtually immediately; at that time, I fully expect to rehome him in the Kitty Retirement Estates. If Addie is not the cause in any way, I would much rather keep him here and make his days the very best they can be.
His special bed made for Devon alone
Here is my favourite shot of him so far at our place; my friend, Allison, calls this, "A Study in Beige." <3
"...promise me, promise me
If they bury me some place I don't want to be
You'll dig me up and transport me, unceremoniously,
Away from the swollen city breeze, garbage bag trees,
Whispers of disease, and the acts of enormity;
And lower me slowly and sadly and properly –
Get Ry Cooder to sing my eulogy." – Gord Downie/The Hip, "At the Hundredth Meridian"
We lost him last night. Oh, we knew it was coming – frankly, I still can't believe that he made it out of that year of death, 2016, let alone nearly another 10 months on top of that – but in no way does it lessen the blow. Gordon Edgar Downie – poet, raconteur, free spirit, showman, fiercely Canadian lead singer and soul of the most fiercely Canadian band of all time, The Tragically Hip – was stolen from us last night at the barely-halfway-there age of 53, by glioblastoma (an aggressive and incurable brain cancer). All of us in the Great White North have been trying to prepare ourselves for this day since we were collectively stunned by the news of his illness, posted on the band's website on May 24, 2016 – and, really, other than July 1st what other day could these quintessential Canadians have possibly chosen for this announcement? Of course, there is no real way to prepare for this and even if we had another decade or two to "get ready" our hearts would still be shattered by his loss.
At the last Hip concert in 2016
There is so much raw, visceral grief tearing through all of my news feeds today that it's really hard to process. So many people, so many hearts, were touched so very deeply by this man and his band and what they brought to our nation. We have spent most of our 150 years living in the enormous shadow of the behemoth with whom we share our southern border, always trying to measure ourselves against the Americans and always pouting when we think we're not being taking seriously enough. To "make it big" doesn't mean all of Medicine Hat or Kelowna or Moncton or even Toronto knows who you are; no, making it big requires hitting the top of the charts in the US of A, period. So much of our major talent has been sucked into the vortex, the yawning maw of the States' machine and we nudge each other knowingly and exchange a wink when a Michael J Fox or Jim Carrey or Steppenwolf is accepted as one of their own, and say "I knew them when they were living here in Canada, dude."
But not The Hip. No, they were our own little secret. And we loved them for it.
The Hip in '87
I'm not going to take you all through their long, wonderful history – there are so many other places for you to look for that information, and they'll all likely do it better than I can – but I will talk a little about what they meant to me in the soundtrack of my own life. I didn't grow up with them in Kingston (as a couple of my friends did); I was in my late 20s when they broke nationally so they weren't the high school staple that they were for so many people. But they were no less important to me all in all, and I fell in love with them the very first time I heard CFNY play "Small Town Bringdown"from their original EP so very many years ago – probably very early in 1987 because CFNY in those days were incredible at bringing new music to our ears before anyone else on the radio. I recall finding out about a free concert they were giving at Nathan Phillips Square (at City Hall in Toronto) one summer in the '80s; try as I might I cannot find any record of this show online but I do see that they performed at the Horseshoe Tavern (their second-ever Toronto gig) on July 15, 1988. It seems to me quite likely that their open-air show took place earlier that day, especially given the setlist for the 'Shoe I've turned up online. I remember the place being packed and feeling pretty proud of myself for having "discovered" this gem of a band that was clearly just on the verge of something huge. Still, I could never have foreseen how huge; the impact they have had on Canada (not just musically) over the past 30 years is virtually indescribable.
Up to Here: the breakthrough
And suddenly, everyone knew who they were. They released Up To Here – with so, so many great tunes but "New Orleans is Sinking" chiefly among them – and it was obvious to the entire nation (not just us "hipsters" listening to New Music and college stations) that these guys were for real, and they were absolutely terrific. I had been hearing "New Orleans..." on CFNY for several months already and I am absolutely certain they played it at City Hall that afternoon in '88. "Blow at High Dough" was another staple on 'NY, and I was very much looking forward to the album's release... but they still kept us waiting until September of 1989. I'm pretty sure I bought it the very first week it was on sale, and I was blown away by how good all the rest of it was. I played it incessantly the first couple of months I owned it and I am still not tired of it to this very day. My life had changed forever in an entirely different way earlier that year ('89) when my son, Tim, was born; it would be quite a while before I was able to see them live again.
Best. Canadian. Album. Ever.
But they were very much the soundtrack of so many wonderful years in my life and I will associate them forever with the rise of the Blue Jays (and their eventual back-to-back World Series victories); the births of both of my children; the Maple Leafs' incredible and improbable run in the '93 NHL playoffs; my few years as a stay-at-home dad; and even the huge upheavals I went through in '95 and '96. When, in October of 1992 (right around the time the Jays were heading for glory), they released Fully, Completely, it immediately and irrevocably went to the very top of any "Desert Island Albums" list I would ever make for the rest of my life. Every July 1st I celebrate by playing nothing but Canadian artists; I always begin with Big Sugar's version of "O Canada" and I always follow that up with Fully, Completely. No exceptions. It's the greatest album ever put out by a Canadian band, in my opinion, and I can't imagine it likely ever being eclipsed. It also happens to contain my all-time favourite Hip song: "Wheat Kings." It tells the story of David Milgaard, wrongfully convicted and in prison for 23 years for a murder in Saskatoon in 1969. The lyrics in it are incomparably evocative, I think, right from the opening line: "Sundown in the Paris of the prairies/Wheat kings have all their treasures buried..." For those of you unclear with the references: "Paris of the Prairies" is a nickname for Saskatoon; "wheat kings" is a nickname for those ubiquitous grain elevators covering the prairies both here and in the States. But my favourite lyrics comprise the third verse of the song:
"There's a dreamy dream where the high school is dead and stark: It's a museum and we're all locked up in it after dark; Where the walls are lined all yellow, grey, and sinister, Hung with pictures of our parents' Prime Ministers."
Yellow, grey, and sinister. That's incredible poetry, that is.
But there was another song on that album that became an anthem to anyone who ever rooted for the blue and white of the Toronto Maple Leafs – and, actually, to most people who are hockey fans in their hearts. That song, of course, was "Fifty Mission Cap."
Barilko's banner being moved from
MLG to the ACC
"Bill Barilko disappeared that summer...." If you know the story, the song is as much haunting as it is incredible simplistic. (If you don't, check it out here.) A few lines of information about the late playoff hero and the effect his death had on his team, ostensibly stolen "from a hockey card", repeated in a second verse just because. It's pretty much a perfect little song, capturing so much pure Canadiana in just a couple of minutes. And so it was that, in 1996, I learned that The Hip were putting together a cross-country tour for that winter, including a stop (for two nights) at Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto. Because I knew that the beloved "Old Lady of Carlton Street" only had a couple of years left before the Leafs moved to the ACC; because I knew the Rheostatics would be opening for them (you can read all about this tour in Dave Bidini's wonderful first published novel, On a Cold Road) and I love the Rheostatics; because I hadn't seen The Hip in quite a while; for all of these reasons I knew I had to get to at least one of these shows. In December of '96 – accompanied by three friends – I was sitting in the corner reds of the Gardens when this song was performed. Instinctively, I looked up to where Barilko's banner was hanging from the rafters, just above my head. The arena was still and a bit stuffy; not a lot of air was flowing as it was a cold night outside. But incredibly, the Barilko #5 pennant began to flutter and move. None of the other banners showed even the slightest inclination toward following suit; Barilko danced alone. There could perhaps be many simple explanations for this; I don't want to hear them. I know I was witnessing something spiritual that night and nothing could ever take that away from me.
Speaking of that show: I really feel that the Rheostatics and The Hip each played a song by the other band during their sets that night but I can find no confirmation of this whatsoever either through setlists or accounts of the show. If you were there – or know someone who was – and can corroborate my memory, please let me know. The song I believe The Hip played was "Saskatchewan", but I could easily be messing up that memory. In any event, that concert in December of 1996 was the very last time I was able to see The Tragically Hip in person. In fact, probably the next time I saw them perform a full show in any way was the very final one in Kingston on August 20th, 2016. This was broadcast coast-to-coast on the CBC and was very likely the first time since Paul Henderson's goal in 1972 that our entire country was "closed for business" and watching the same TV show at the same time.
"Wicapi Omani" – Lakota for
"man who walks among the stars"
But he leaves behind an even greater legacy than simply his music and poetry catalogue – vast though that may be. (As an aside: I own a copy of just over half of all of their albums and yet it still represents the biggest single collection I have of any one artist or singer.) Gord Downie has for many years fought to bring grave Canadian (especially) injustices to light and once he found out his remaining time on this earth was short, he worked feverishly to bring the plight of the indigenous peoples of Canada firmly into view. He and his brother, Mike, set up The Gord Downie and Chanie Wenjack Fund to support reconciliation between indigenous and non-indigenous people of Canada. Chanie Wenjack was a young boy who died trying to escape one of my nation's infamous and shameful residential schools, a story at the centre of his Secret Pathproject. On that website's home page, Gord included this:
“This is not an aboriginal problem. This is a Canadian problem. Because at the same time that aboriginal people were being demeaned in the schools and their culture and language were being taken away from them and they were being told that they were inferior, they were pagans, that they were heathens and savages and that they were unworthy of being respected — that very same message was being given to the non-aboriginal children in the public schools as well…They need to know that history includes them.” (Murray Sinclair, Ottawa Citizen, May 24, 2015)
He was at the front of a great many environmental and cultural issues in Canada, and I will forever be in awe of his passion, his integrity, his commitment to fixing so very many wrongs perpetrated over the past 150 years (and more) in the name of "Canada". I'd say we've lost an enormous influence and true champion, but I really hope his legacy far, far outlives him.
Some excellent further reading would be this terrific little piece by the Toronto Star about the history of The Hip. In that piece they talk about that time Dan Aykroyd, also Kingston-bred, brought the band onto Saturday Night Live. Here is that night:
Here is an interview he did with Peter Mansbridge, long the face of the CBC National News, almost exactly a year ago which, for some reason, I cannot seem to embed on this page.
On January 1st of this year, the "Strombo Show" on CBC Radio devoted the entire four hours to Canadian bands covering The Hip, and it was supremely wonderful. You can listen here.
If you've any lingering doubts as to the impact of this man on our nation, I think this clip of our Prime Minister reacting to news of his death should lay all of them to rest:
And finally, here they are performing "Wheat Kings" in a concert at Abbotsford, BC in 2009. (If you want to hear the studio version, there are myriad places for you to find it online.)
Goodbye, Gord, for now you are truly "Wicapi Omani – man who walks among the stars."
"Done and done, night accomplished; If I had a wish, I'd wish for more of this."
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