Woofstock 2009

With soaring summer temperatures and sunny skies, friends from out of town, along with their giant-sized dog, travelled downtown with me to experience Woofstock--touted by its organizers as the largest outdoor dog festival in North America....'A festival for dogs!'


This 'celebration' for our beloved canines takes place in the St. Lawrence Market neighbourhood. Front Street, a four-lane boulevard from Jarvis Street to Yonge Street and from Market Street South to The Esplanade is closed off to vehicular traffic. That's about six blocks of concrete and store-front sidewalk in the center of downtown Toronto. Line those streets with two hundred vendor booths, over 150,000 people and half as many dogs and you have a marketer's dream.


There were dogs whose coats had been dyed pink, dogs whose feet never touched the ground being carried around in pet carriers, dogs with muzzles on, dogs wearing jogging suits, boas, sun bonnets, running shoes, sun dresses and fancy baubles around their necks.


There were dogs being led around from one booth to the next with a look of total confusion in their eyes. There were dogs who were both over-heated and exhausted. Some just falling asleep at curbside, others panting--searching for that familiar yet elusive plot of grass or tree trunk to relieve themselves on.





There were dogs who were entered in a variety of contests--waiting dutifully in line along with their owner for up to an hour to show off their unusual trick or their best howl.

I didn't get around to 'The Ugliest Dog Contest' and hope the line-up to enter that was a very short one!

There were dogs refusing to mount the stairs to the main stage event-Mr. & Mrs. Canine Canada Pageant, (despite the owners' best efforts) where the dogs were introduced by a squealing MC amid too much fanfare and cheering (and please turn that microphone down, remembering the contestants' sensitive hearing).


One particularly unsettling sight for me was the Petopia On-Site Doggy Daycare. You could bring your companion to the festival and leave it with an unknown care-giver in a giant cage while you shopped. This was not designed with a dog's comfort in mind. There were about seven or eight dogs in the area when I passed by. Two of the dogs (Great Danes) were fortunate enough to have secured a spot on a small, matted area--which was the only shaded space in the pet-care center--the rest of it in full sun. The other dogs were wandering back and forth on the heated pavement, awaiting their owners' return. NOT a service where any dog lover worth their kibble would park their dog!


The Wine and Beer Garden on site invited us to 'bring your dog in at any time.' I'm as much a fan of mixing alcohol and dogs as I am of imbibing while caring for children so we skipped that offer!





The booths and tents, if you could get close enough to them without tripping on the dogs who were allowed to walk (as opposed to being shuffled along in doggy carriages or strapped to their owner's chest in a doggy-carrier) offered everything imaginable to the canine consumer. There was also the unimaginable.


One product I'm still in a quandry over, is the scoop cup. It's a cardboard cup (much the same as french fries are served in) in which you place a plastic bag. You can then pick up your dogs poop without having to feel it through the bag. Pull the bag out, dispose of it, load another one into the container and you're ready for your next poop 'n scoop session. The folks who were demonstrating this invention were having such a difficult time of it that I had to state the obvious--why make it more involving than it is?? KISS (keep it simple, stupid) implies here!


Let's get it straight--this celebration is not for the dogs. If it was for the dogs, it would be held on some grassy expanse, where there's a breeze blowing and plenty of trees to sniff and lift a leg up against. It would be held at a more appropriate time of year-perhaps earlier in the spring or in late September/mid-October, when the sun and air-quality are friendlier.



It would have a pond where dogs could cool off in, instead of a concrete fountain that is full of soapy bubbles of unknown origin!


The booths would be spaced so neither the owner nor the companion got their paws stepped on.

As it is now, it's a field of dreams for marketers. A feeding frenzy for the consumer.

It's a travesty to advertise it as otherwise.

Pippi Longstocking Gone Wrong

I've just come in from my last walk of the evening with my dog.


The neighourhood is quiet at this hour of the night, a couple sitting out on their front porch, enjoying the still, cool night air. A cat crossing the street on some kind of mission. We pass a couple of dog owners out on their last call. No raccoon sightings, which is not unusual as garbage pick-up was this morning--they've had their fill after rummaging through any of the loose trash before daybreak.

Journey stops her investigative sniffing on a lawn long enough to recognize a person approaching from a distance. I acknowledge the on-coming pedestrian traffic by stepping slightly to the side,motioning Journey over onto the grass to allow an unobstructed passage.

When the person, a female of about thirty years old, gets within two feet of us, she jumps up, lands in a crouch position, at eye-level with my girl, stares at her and doesn't say a word.

I'm fairly thrown by this behavior and Journey has taken a step backward with a concerned expression on her face.

I ask her what she's doing and she lets me know she's 'saying hello' to my dog.

I suggest this isn't the best way to do so anytime but especially in the dark at night.

She then informs me she trains dogs (would NOT have ever slotted her as a trainer--of any sort!) and, 'yes, this is exactly the way you do it'.

'No,' I say, my patience surprising me. 'You should never get down at eye-level with an unknown dog and just stare at it.'

'Too bad you've got a scaredy-cat there. You've made her that way, you know,' she tells me as she's bringing herself back to an erect position.

Fixing her with a frosty, eye-level stare of my own, conscious of her bright blue and white Pippi Longstocking tights, I'm trying to formulate what path I want this confrontaion to to take.

As she slowly starts to pass us, I realize there's no response necessary--I'm dealing with a complete maniac.

Journey twists her neck around and watches Pippi until she's completely out of sight, still wondering, I'm sure, what that human was all about.

Hmm...I wonder if I'll ever get to meet a dog she's trained--or who her employer is??!!?

With her skills, I guess it could be one of those big-box pet stores who are brokers for puppy mills. And I bet you could find a couple of those designer breeds there too!

Lip curling...