As many of you already know, May 22, 2011 marked what has undeniably been the darkest day in my 40 years of life – losing Bailey. Though I consider myself lucky to have had 12 years with this wonderful little man who stood so gallantly by my side through thick and thin, the loss of him is still almost unbearable.

But I’ve always preached that life is like a pressure chamber – and when one door closes, it forces another one open. Losing Bailey hasn’t been the exception to this rule. Months after his death, I knew I had the capacity in my heart to love another dog, so after considering the various breeds that peaked my interest (including another Yorkie), I drove 8 hours to pick up Ali – a German Boxer who stole my heart through the various photos sent from the breeder.

Ali and Bailey could not get any more opposite: One was 4 lbs full grown, the other is 65 lbs at 7 months old. One was male, the other is female. One was a lap dog, the other desperately wants to be. One hated the cold, the other loves snow like nobody’s business. The only similarity between the two is their love of snuggling, and my love for them.

Bailey hated the dog park. He had no time for dogs simply because they were dogs. He viewed dogs the same way cats do – annoying, aggravating creatures that should be done away with. It provided much of the explanation of why Bailey got along so well with cats. As such, we were never at the dog park. But with Ali, the dog park was heaven on earth, so every day we visited the dog park multiple times so she could socialize with the other beasts of burden.

As fate would have it, one of those beasts happened to be a beautiful German Shepherd by the name of George, who happened to come along with a pretty cute owner named Pete. 6 months later and I wake up with Pete by my side every morning, George at our feet and Ali still trying to convince everyone she’s a lapdog. Life couldn’t be better.

Every day I miss Bailey, and I still can’t discuss him without turning into a horrible emotional write-off, but I’d be an idiot if I didn’t recognize that the worst thing in my life resulted in the best thing in my life.

Moral of the story: Something good will happen. It always does.

WARNING TO WOMEN ABOUT “SEDUCTION GURU”

Please read this public service announcement carefully and pass it on to every woman you know. A “seduction guru” named “Dimitri The Lover” attacks women on the street, in broad daylight, as his “girlfriend” looks on and smiles (it happened to at least 3 of my friends). As a lesbian who has been harassed by her fair share of men, I was shocked that this man gets away with his misogynistic, criminal behavior. Then I learned that the police turn a blind eye to his crimes because they get a 25% discount on admission to his meetings.

I’m requesting your assistance to prevent this sexual predator from attacking more women. Please warn the general public about him and his female accomplice. He calls his seduction method “Rasputin MindRape” (I’m not kidding). Not only does he teach men throughout the world his “techniques” in exchange for thousands of dollars a day, but I’ve heard that he and his female accomplice travel around North America and Europe “seducing” women. I spent the last few days compiling some links to help identify them:

Hollywood producer Brad Goodman, who worked on Bruno and Borat, made a Dimitri The Lover documentary with trailer featuring him sexually assaulting women on the street.

Disgusting, narcissistic, delusional flyer he hands to women that reject him.

Vile, misogynistic, twitter with excuses for rape, incest, and other criminal behavior.

Disgusting endorsement of wife-assaulting Toronto mayor Rob Ford (which also made page 3 of The Toronto Sun).

“Banned Animations” featuring women being sexually assaulted and murdered.

Web site for his “anti-metrosexual” (read “homophobic”) group.

Proof of his homophobia (I actually cried when I read this)

More proof of his homophobia can be found here.

Homophobic sticker he posts on newspaper boxes.

Example of how he promotes sexually assaulting women on the street. It is important to read this entire page to get an idea of his sadistic sexual psychosis.

His grossly narcissistic main web site.

You can identify his girlfriend in these photos. (personally, I’m willing to bet she has NO clue he’s posting those. And if she does, she needs a therapist, bad).

Finally, he manages a punk band called “The Scumballys”. Their music video features a woman being decapitated, then her headless body dragged away by a young boy for implied necrophilia.

Bailey was the best dog in the world. He was, without a doubt, the man of my life. If I had a bad day at work, or was sick with the flu, or crying from a broken heart, he was always the guy beside me showing me that he cares. Whether it was one of his infamous stares while standing on my lap, or just a tiny warm body snuggled into me, he never ever failed me. That’s the incredible thing about dogs – if you give them love, they will repay you a thousand fold with an unconditional love and devotion that simply cannot be measured.

My little man was a canine of routine. After almost 12 years with each other, we had the whole thing figured out. Every night he’d stand in the same spot beside my bed waiting for me to lift him up into it before I crawled in. Every time his feet hit the duvet, he’d bounce around like a neurotic rabbit, find that special place, dig furiously into it and then drop himself in with a huge sigh. Every weekday morning, he’d sleep through my alarm clock, stir slightly when I dragged my ass out of bed, but refused to make any motion until he heard me come out of the shower. Every evening he’d greet me with leaps of joy, all the while barking like a mad fool. And on the weekends, we’d sleep in with each other. If I sat on a chair, he was on my lap. If I laid on the couch, he was laying on me. If I got up, he followed me. When I used the bathroom, he sat outside the door. It didn’t matter what I did or where I went in the house, Bailey was always with me…always keeping a watchful eye on me….always showing me how much he loved me.

On Sunday May 22, our lives took a tragic turn when he was hit and killed by a car with a driver that took enough time to slow down and assess the situation, but without enough compassion to stop. As I bent over Bailey in the middle of the road, afraid to move him, all I saw was the fear in his eyes. This has become the most heart shattering moment of my life to date. I’ve been told the traffic was stopped in all directions, people were out of their cars, neighbours were standing outside their houses, people were lined along the sidewalks, some were calling the police reporting the driver, others were running for blankets to wrap him in.

I didn’t see any of it.

The only thing I saw was my little guy lying underneath me. And the only thing that mattered in that moment was for him to know how much I loved him.

Then the earth opened up and swallowed me.

And all I heard was my screaming. And all I felt were arms tightly wrapping around me. And all I knew was Bailey, whom I’ve loved so deeply for 12 years – who was well and alive 2 minutes ago in my arms – now lay dead in my arms.

I will never understand why he decided to cross the street, because Bailey was the kind of dog who knew not to cross streets, regardless of who or what was over there. I very rarely had to leash him on walks and was comfortable strolling down busy streets like Queen without a worry in the world that he would leave my side. I guess he just wanted to say hi to that little dog on the other side, and I will never shake the guilt I feel in not watching him closer than I did in that minute.

So this is a letter to my little man, Bailey….

Your little feet pattering across the floors. Your bark, your late night sighs and the way you always nestled into me. The way you hated getting baths, and how you loved to finally free yourself of the towel and drag your body across the area rugs. How you barked when I asked you if you loved me, and how you reacted when I’d point at myself and ask who loved you. The way you bounced around in front of me from side to side as we walked into the kitchen to get you a treat. How you wrestled with the cat, and then curled up with her afterward for a nap. How you hated your feet being touched, and the many times we’d turn tapping them into a game. How well you begged when something was worth begging for. The way you looked at me when I brushed you. How you loved the heat of the fireplace, and how you squealed when someone got too close to you who wasn’t paying attention to where they were going – your little warning that they might step on you. Your aggressive bark followed by your stop, drop and roll tactic whenever a dog came near you. The way you adored cats and could never understand why some didn’t reciprocate this love. How you’d stand just slightly out of view when people were eating, because you knew you weren’t allowed in the room during these times. And oh, how you loved your tummy rubbed. The way your little body would consume 80% of my bed, leaving me hanging off the edge. The spring months when I’d shave you down for the summer, and then struggle to keep your hair free of knots as it grew longer into the colder season. Those times when I’d have to run outside in my robe and slippers to grab you in the dead of winter because your little body froze in the cold and you couldn’t finish your pee. The funny way you walked in your booties, and how you would stop and stand motionless when the hood of your parka flipped onto your head. The noises you would make while dreaming in the middle of the night. How much you hated getting your photo taken. Your protective nature. How disheveled you were when you were woken before being ready to wake. The way you would greet me when I got home and those rare times when you decided something was worthy of ripping the garbage apart. How you followed me around the house. The way your hind legs moved as you went down the stairs. How much you loved me, even with all of my faults and imperfections. How much I love you, and how unbelievably sorry I am for not being able to save you.

This is written, saturated in tears. Words cannot describe how heartbroken I am, and even though I don’t believe in heaven or hell, I want to believe that my Bailey is running around with Catharine’s Bailey, and playing on the bed with Paul’s mom in some place better than here. I know it sounds silly and contradictory, but holding that hope is the only thing that seems to bring me comfort.

For all my friends and my family, and the people who exist in my social media circles, I thank you for all your kind words and support. For all the caring and concerned folks who stopped on the road, or came out of their houses to help, I am so appreciative. For Kat, a complete stranger who dropped by the house later that night to check up on me – I’m so happy to have made a new friend in you. You exemplify altruism.

And for Shelby, my sweet darling daughter who has shown such strength while watching her mom crumble into an emotional basketcase, I appreciate and love you more than life itself. The way you have cared for me these past few days leaves my heart bursting with pride.

If there is one thing to learn, it is that life is unpredictable. Appreciate and love everyone as if it’s the last day you will see them.

Gone, but never forgotten. Always in our hearts, my little prince.

Today was no exception. I had the joy of witnessing the straw man effect in perfect form. For those of you not familiar with this term, imagine a fight between two people where one creates a man of straw, attacks it, then proclaims victory. All the while, the real opponent stands by untouched. In essence, it refers to the act of swapping Opponent A’s argument with something sort of similar, (but not)…and then attacking that point when really, it wasn’t their position at all…and then claiming false victory over it.

Wikipedia has a great example:

Person A: Our society should spend more money helping the poor.
Person B: Studies show that handouts don’t work; they just create more poverty and humiliate the recipients. That money could be better spent.

In this case, Person B has transformed Person A’s position from “more funding” to “more handouts”, which is easier for Person B to defeat.

Call me a nerd, but this is exciting shit for those of us keenly interested in human behavior.

Today, one comment on Twitter initiated what became a ‘debate’ – chalk full of strawmanning. It stated the following:

“There is absolutely NO REASON whatsoever for anyone under the age of 10 to even have access to the Internet. Hell in a handbasket.”

Let me first state that this particular individual does not have children. And, as the mother of a 17 year old, I have what could be considered ‘experience’ on the topic of parenting. Now by no means am I an ‘expert’ (I don’t believe anyone is or ever could be), but I do have a substantial amount of shit in my back pocket to reference. Certainly more than someone who doesn’t have children.

My response (via multiple tweets) to this could be summed up as this:

It is impossible, given the accessibility of the Internet via phones, gaming consoles, libraries, internet cafes, friends, etc. to keep your children off of it. This is 2011, the Internet is a part of our everyday lives and you’re be a fool to think otherwise. Add to this the reality that it is IMPOSSIBLE to monitor your child 24/7 unless you lock them in their bedroom and never let them leave until they turn 21. I’ve learned you always have to try to keep 3 steps ahead of your offspring, which in reality, is another impossible task. Kids are like little MacGyvers – they’re fucking smart – and they will make every attempt to get around your established rules.

It’s safe to say that throughout my years of parenting, I’ve never lost focus of one reality: Humans are curious about what is hidden from them. They are not when it is not. My approach to raising my daughter has never been to lock her up, but rather to embed some serious morals and common sense in her, which in turn enables her to determine what is good and what is bad. She doesn’t always make the right decisions (no one does), but she realizes when she hasn’t and she learns from her mistakes. This is part of growing up.

Throughout this little ‘debate’, I was accused of the following:

• I condone a 10 year old having full accessibility to the Internet.
• I fully support 10 year old children having a Facebook account.
• I have raised my daughter in a rule-less environment.
• I’m a ‘lazy’ parent who is incapable of preventing my child from accessing the Internet.
• I willingly allow my child to break established rules.

Of course, you can see some of the examples of the opposition strawmanning that happened in today’s ‘debate’. In no way, shape or form did I ever indicate any of what I’ve been accused of. I’m not even sure how my position got twisted into any of these….I guess chalk it up to really shitty smoke screening.

Now, let’s turn the focus to some of my confusion around my opposition’s argument:

Example #1: The evolution was as follows: There is no reason for any 10 year old to have access to the Internet. > > 10 year olds should not be accessing Facebook. > > 10 year olds shouldn’t be ‘taught’ how to use Facebook. > > Swap out 10 year old for a 9 year old. > > Any parent who gives their a child 16 or under a smartphone is a fucking moron. >> Swap out 9 year old for a 10 year old. >> Parent’s shouldn’t *willingly* allow their 10 and under children to have the Internet.

In short, what exactly is the position here?

Of course, my point doesn’t change at all with any of this. You can’t control your kids 24/7, the Internet is way too accessible, and it’s ignorant to think your child won’t manage to log into their Facebook at their friends house when you deny them access.

Example #2: “I mean you can google image porn for fuck sake. At least in my day you had to sneak playboys, that shit was tougher.” Right. 20 years ago, boys were sneaking Playboy magazines under their mattresses. Couple of points to be made here: It’s a different world, as evidenced by this statement. But did anyone else notice kids haven’t changed? They will ALWAYS find a way to gain access to things they shouldn’t be – especially when you deny it. Look at that! 20 years ago to now, it’s still the same underlying behavior. I guess this guys parents were rule-less, lazy idiots lacking any moral obligation to the well-being of their child. Clearly they were encouraging their son to hide porn in his bedroom. Clearly they didn’t care.

The obvious issues here are ignorance and immaturity. Some may argue they go hand in hand.

To believe that you can ‘old school’ parent your child in today’s society is beyond ignorant. The world is a vastly different place than it was in 1983. To sum it up: we live in a technology-driven society that will throw your ass in jail the second you even *think* about raising a hand to your child. I grew up having a full understanding of what corporal punishment was. It’s not like that anymore. The world has evolved, and just like minority groups, women and animals – children also have rights now. And what this means is parenting styles have had to shift, all the while understanding just how much our world has changed around us. It’s not an easy task.

One thing to note here: Everything is ONLY what we know it to be through our own experience and understanding of it. For example, a game such as Grand Theft Auto would be a totally different experience for a 27 year old guy than it would be for a 9 year old girl. He knows it to be shooting people and engaging in backseat sex with prostitutes — she knows it to be a car that she’s driving around on the roads with no destination and never having to run out of gas. Therefore, when arguing that a child should not have access to the Internet at 8 years old, it’s important to understand what their experience would be based on what it’s been.

This particular person is not a parent and judging by today’s debate, really has no idea what parenting involves. In his defense, NO ONE does until they become one. I certainly didn’t and nothing can prepare you. Nothing.

As well, everyone is entitled to their opinion — it’s just much more effective when backed up with something – anything. For example, I’d like to understand what approach(es) he would take in keeping his hypothetical child off the Internet at all times until s/he is 13. I would like to know what method(s) he will use to contact his child when s/he is 15 and out with their friends. I mean, it’s one thing to point at a hole and proclaim “look, there’s a hole!”, but I really want to know how you plan on filling it, because any idiot can see there’s a hole.

That, of course, was never addressed. And it never is regardless of the topic or people. Shame, because it’s this one little piece that distinguishes the true intellects from the trolls.

Editor’s note: I will take some time out of my schedule to lay out every comment exchanged throughout this debate (and even those that happened afterward because they are just as interesting) – in a slick flowchart fashion. I’ll even toss in a little strawman icon every time it occurs as a guide.

An open letter to “Justice” Robert Dewar;

I have a weakness for sharp-dressed men….especially those wearing well-tailored suits.

Given that I work in the financial core of Toronto, I see men in well-tailored suits five days a week. Sometimes they smile at me as we pass each other by. Sometimes they strike up a conversation with me in the elevator. Sometimes they even ask me for my telephone number or offer up their business card. But at no time during any of my daily dealings with these sharp-dressed men in well-tailored suits that I have a weakness for do I presume I have any right to sexually assault or rape them.

Your recent sentencing decision in the case of Kenneth Rhodes – a convicted rapist – is nothing short of antediluvian. To say that “sex was in the air” based on what this woman was wearing is not only revolting, but implies you are a misogynist with an archaic caveman mentality believing that women are merely here to serve men.

Here’s a fact – it’s 2011.

And here’s another fact – NO MEANS NO.

Regardless of what led to that moment in time where Kenneth Rhodes took it upon himself to force sex on this woman, she did not consent. Clothing, shoes, lack of weapons, an absence of threats, the desire to go swimming, alcohol, ignorance, promiscuity, makeup – none of this matters – NONE.

All that is relevant is this woman said no, and Kenneth Rhodes resorted to forcing sex on her as a result. There is absolutely zero grey matter here.

Key words: No and Forced.

In my world, this is rape. And rape is not a victimless crime. Rape is not without long term consequences – it continues to persecute for years after. It should be a serious, punishable offense that requires unprotected time served in a maximum security prison and not this slap on the wrist with the excuse that we are, in fact, dealing with a “clumsy Don Juan”. (What the FUCK is that supposed to even mean?!!!)

As a Queen’s Bench judge, you represent ‘justice’ as much as a woman in a tight top and high heels represents wanting to get raped.

As a woman (and I believe I represent the vast majority here), I thank you for your contribution to the reason why rape is considered to be the most under-reported crime of violence¹.

Mr. Dewar, I do sincerely hope your daughter never wears an outfit that a ‘clumsy Don Juan’, in his alcohol-induced stupor, interprets as “wanting sex”. And because it really comes down to personal preference, this could be a well-tailored suit, a tight top and high heels, or a simple skinny jean paired with a tank top and flip flops.

¹ Wikipedia

As such, I’ve made every effort to ensure that mini-me is a true musicphile and not your typical 21st century teen who’s mind is closed to anything outside of todays Top 10. From strategically placing a speaker on either side of my belly throughout my pregnancy, to playing the great 1970′s rock bands like Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, and Bob Seger constantly as she was growing up. Of course, this also included the lesser known’s like Al Stewart, Gary Wright, and the Little River Band.

The point is: she has always been exposed to the love of music that has held me so tightly my entire life.

So when I told her today that Gerry Rafferty died, I was engulfed by sweet pride when she saddened and started to sing his music. Aside from my sister and one friend, my 17 year old offspring was the only other person I spoke with who actually knew who I was speaking about.

What a shame.

So in memory of an incredibly talented musician and songwriter, I end this with a song from Gerry Rafferty that quietly taps on the very rarely exposed places of my heart.

PS: If it doesn’t sound familiar, you may know him from one of his more widely known songs, Baker Street and Stuck in the Middle With You.

Words cannot describe just how incredibly sad this entire situation is. It is a tragedy, heavily compounded by the fact that there are two beautiful babies involved here.

Considering the amount of people that were in attendance – each with their own memories – it’s hard to understand why he didn’t reach out for help when so much was available.

Perhaps when you reach a certain point, when you’ve lost it all, you conclude there’s nothing left to live for…and this is where it all begins.

Over the years, it has become overwhelmingly clear to me that the judicial system – namely the family courts – needs a serious overhaul in this country. As do the lawyers who seek to feed off ex-spouses who have the misguided belief they are entitled to all the gold in the world, and then some. In this particular situation, he had lost everything he had to pay the legal fees associated with a terribly nasty and outright dirty divorce and custody battle in which his ex-wife and her band of lawyers were set on destroying him. The tragedy in it is, they did. At the end, he had sold his beautiful house, lost his job to the stress, and eventually could barely afford to buy food for the only two things he had left – his daughters.

And then she took them.

And it was this tragedy that was the inevitable hair that broke the camel’s back. There are now two little girls who have to live out the rest of their lives without their father – a man who loved them more than life itself, and eventually came to believe that without them, he was better off dead.

She beat the life right out of him, literally. And this….this is what the Ontario family court system allows. A man who treated his children like gold, and was never given the chance for a share in their lives because his ex-wife is an angry, vindictive woman who sought only to pin him into a corner and poke holes through him. Rather than acknowledging that this wasn’t the immaculate conception, the system throws (usually) the father into a 3+ year legal battle that usually results in bankruptcy. The sad irony of it is the tolls that the battle took inevitably ended up working against him. Selling his house to fund his legal fees meant he didn’t have “appropriate” housing for the girls. Losing his livelihood to the stress resulted in lacking the means to financially support them properly. And taking his life means she can now argue his instability.

It’s nothing short of a vicious cycle….and a severely flawed legal system.

I’m a mother. In fact, I’m a single mother. And I understand that some parents don’t deserve access to their children – both mothers and fathers. But I don’t believe it’s proper to pigeon-hole every non-custodial parent into a situation where they are forced to fight for access to their children simply because the relationship between the parents didn’t work out. The system is backwards. Parents should immediately be granted shared access unless there is undeniable reason to believe one is detrimental to the wellbeing of the children. This was never the case here. If the system had just worked the way it should, all of this would have easily been avoided.

So who won?

No one. Nothing. He was found at the end of a rope and all that’s left are two little girls who will have to live out the rest of their lives without their dad, a 7-page suicide note, and a shared mixed bag of emotions that pendulate between sadness, anger and frustration.

I will never understand why. And I will never understand the contradiction in what he spent so much fighting for was what he inevitably gave up. He loved those girls more than life…and you can interpret that as you see fit.

RIP Frankie. You will be sadly missed my friend.

You can read more about Frankie's tragedy HERE. (The Toronto Star, Joe Fiorito)

With that said, the recent headlines around one Toronto woman – Gabriela Nagy – suing Rogers for what she terms a “breach of privacy” just reeks of a certain sentiment that’s prevalent south of the border: sue everyone for everything because, hey, it’s not MY fault.

As the story goes, Ms. Nagy was acting without discretion behind her husband’s back, carrying on an affair with another man (I’m assuming it’s a man, but you never know). Once her husband found out via the consolidated Rogers bill, he left her and subsequently filed for a divorce like any normal breathing human being with any ounce of dignity would.

So….she fucks around. She gets caught. Hubby leaves her. She blames Rogers. She sues Rogers.

Now…it might just be me who thinks this way, but one would assume that if you’re going to bareback ride another pony, you best be making sure there is absolutely zero trail of any hoof prints. And that, Ms. Nagy, includes telephone calls made from your cell that will clearly show on your bill. I don’t care who’s name it was in, who consolidated what, or any of it.

The reality is this: You broke up your marriage, not Rogers.

Now that I have that PERSONAL rant out of the way, let’s switch to the other side of the story: Breach of privacy. If Ms. Nagy’s story is accurate, and Rogers consolidated an account solely in her name with the accounts belonging to her husband, then yes – there is a definite breach of privacy here. No doubt. This would be a mistake on the part of Rogers. However, if held liable, Rogers would only be responsible for what is determined to be foreseeable cause/damage in a lawsuit. It cannot be expected that Rogers should have been able to reasonably assume that consolidating the bills would result in the dissipation of a marriage because one spouse is cheating, and the subsequent loss of a $100,000 job because she ‘cannot function’ at work anymore. *rolls eyes*

With that said, I want to see how this plays out. Just because Ms. Nagy is claiming Rogers did this, it doesn’t necessarily mean they did. After all, she’s already proven herself to be a liar.

Moral of the story? Use a pay-per-use phone.

Around Venezia from Icam on Vimeo.