Aunt Marie

April 3rd, 2007

Work today without the chipper saw us going to the B.M.X. track in Nanaimo. There was further landscaping work to be done, although I concentrated on removing all of the detritus that we had piled up in the tree line from our last visit almost three weeks ago now. 

Marie, the woman who manages the park and coincidentally happens to be Fur Dog’s aunt (he wasn’t shitting!), had arranged for a delivery of a big waste bin for us to load up with all the leaves, bramble and branches. Richard and Charles oscillated between the piles and the bin with wheelbarrows while I feverishly worked my pitch-fork in loading them up. It took the whole of the day but we got it all off the ground and into the bin which was damn near full by quitting time. In fact, Marie will likely need another bin to cart away all of the other waste collected by the remainder of the crew, who were busy working away on the other side of the track. 

Marie is quite a nice woman. Aside from being Furry’s aunt, she was also a foster parent to a good many others. When I asked her about Fur Dog’s claim that they were related, she confirmed and then asked me if I knew Wayne Turner. The name didn’t ring a bell for me but it turns out that this was the guy who unfortunately hung himself down at Wilkenson Road last month. Marie shared that she was his foster mother. How sad. The guy was 31 years old and apparently had just been dumped by his girlfriend and the mother of his child. He was found in segregation hanging from his bed sheet. Bummer.

So anyways, during our morning coffee break, who should drive by on the road adjacent the park but Fur Dog! His timing was intriguing given my mentioning him to Marie earlier in the morning. We were all sitting around the crummy enjoying our coffee when off in the distance we hear this guy screaming, “Yo! Crew#2!” We all look over to see the Big Dawg in canine-like fashion hanging his head out of the passenger side of a little beige Corolla station wagon as it rolled down the road. Rick Greene then remarks, “what a heat bag car!” Prompting fits of laughter from the guys.Truer words have never been spoken. If I were a cop I’d pull over such a ride. Especially with the likes of Furry bellowing out the window as he was. I know the world is a big place but moments like this conspire to challenge this notion. The Big Dawg has left the pound but he doesn’t see fit to stray very far. Perhaps we’ll see him rejoin the doghouse one day. (“Don’t do it Sean!”)

Part of the benefit of working at the B.M.X. track is that Marie makes a point of treating us with Dairy Queen for lunch. Milkshakes and fries are definitely a bonus for us jailbirds. Were someone to tell me that I’d be enjoying such fare as I was heading off for a prison term, I’d say they were out to lunch. As it is, we had D.Q. take out for lunch. Nice!