Man's best friend

In the border lands of the southern extent of the White Spruce, a man is liable to become lonely from time to time. The companionship of the trembling aspen and a six string guitar only takes you so far when the sun begins to elude the heavens for the majority of the day. It is this feeling of alienation that temps to drive a man within the reaches of neon lights, tumble down watering holes on weekdays and late night coffee shops in search of expression. Often however as soon as the expression is found, a wanting grows deep inside for what is held dear. The poplar trees call to the place where human intimacy hides but the romanticism of the wild flourishes.

So where does one begin to bridge the gap between these two worlds? Does he search the desolate streets night after night, hoping to find a like minded acquaintance? Or does he delve into himself for four cold months when joy is blanketed by snow? Does he simply push forth, waiting for the day when the blossom's of the Saskatoon appear. No this is not the answer. contemplation of the weariness of winter is not the answer. A man must find his place amongst the frosted twigs and occupy himself with the activities not found in summer. Ice skating, hard water fishing, snow shoeing. Winter does have its advantages. The cold is nature's deep freeze and the snow is the night light of the winter's dark. But these joys are not easily shared alone. They are much better with a friend. A friend that accepts you unconditionally. A friend that does not complain about the cold, or that time you hit on his girlfriend. A friend that is part canine part mystic. A mistreated friend rescued from the harsh realities of La Ronge.

I have adopted a four month old border collie cross from a rescue mission in La Ronge. my very own runty Rez dog. I travelled to Saskatoon this weekend intent on finding some fun and ended up finding my new best friend. My friend Jenna's mother runs a rescue mission in the North to help out all the little pups from the reservations and she had a little guy with her on her visit to the Paris of the Prairies. And I fell in love!

I have deemed him Le Petit, his name sake, the rifle shouldered by Gabriel Dumont that nearly defeated a fledgling Canadian military in the North-West Rebellion of 1885. I decided it was a suiting name as he is from La Ronge and will be growing up in St. Louis, both places being historically French..... And the name is hard as fuck...just like him;)