Elihu Entertainment

Come October, the fall-winter puppet-show marathon started again. Max took this in his stride. As long as he had his morning walk with me, Edna and Brandy, or Hugh and the girls on the weekend, he didn’t care what we did with the rest of the day. However, in spite of his burgeoning fame as Max, the Ho Hum Husky, he continued to be very un-ho-hum whenever he felt threatened.

One Saturday, after a walk at the Foreshore, he cracked up the whole family during the drive home. As usual, he was riding in the back of the Jeep and none of us were paying him any attention, but suddenly we heard him growling. We all looked round to see him standing up and facing the back window. His hackles were up, and a moment later, the growls erupted into furious barks. The cause was immediately apparent. A Harley Davidson motorbike was on our tail, the rider decked out in full leather gear with a large round helmet. Obviously, Max thought we were being chased by a monster. The girls were in convulsions, but Max was oblivious to our laughter. He continued his barrage of woofs and snarls until the bike veered off onto a side street. At that point, Max turned round, sat down smugly and eyed us all as if to say: “There, I took care of him.”

It was another season cram-full of private gigs: school shows, daycares, hospitals, senior homes, office parties, not to mention our usual booking at the Burnaby Village Museum. We also had more public events and Max was certainly lucky that we had the motorhome that fall. We had quite a few bookings that entailed long days out, so he was able to come along and stay in his ‘home-from-home’ during the set up and performances, yet visit with us and enjoy walks in between. Halloween brought us a public show at Presentation House as part of the Vancouver Guild of Puppetry Festival. In November, we repeated our Babes experiment, this time booking a hall in Fort Langley so that we could bring the show to a different audience. Then there was the mammoth day out at Pender Harbour since the Lions’ Club had once again booked us to bring up our Christmas show.

The raft of repeat bookings in December of that year had made me realize that we were not going to get very far if we only had one Christmas show. Therefore, I had worked throughout the year to create a new seasonal show for Max. This year’s offering was Ye Olde Ho Humme Christmas, later to be expanded and developed into King John’s Christmas for a run at Vagabond Players. The latter title is, of course, also the title of a beloved childhood poem by A.A.Milne and it was that poem that inspired the idea for the show. King John, in our puppet show, was not hankering after a red rubber ball, but had turned against Christmas because “In days of yore when he was four” he had asked Santa for a little wooden toy soldier and Santa had failed to comply. As a result, the king was plotting to destroy Santa, but naturally, the plot was foiled through the efforts of Sir Max, the Ho Hum and his friend, Maid Brandy. The show was great fun, and enthusiastically received by local and Coast audiences alike. Even after we’d finished the paid gigs, there was fun with the puppets as we set up the theatre in the basement and gave shows for our various Christmas visitors.

That year, we had another White Christmas, although Christmas Day was quieter than the previous year. Mum and Dad were present, but we all missed the Aussies. However, we had many visitors for the three days after Christmas, so there was lots of opportunity for games and seasonal fun. The girls particularly enjoyed Boxing Day when Hugh’s nephews came over with their children. We made them bags of popcorn and performed the show, after which the girls showed their cousins how to work the puppets. However, by the 29th, visiting came to a halt. There was so much snow that the B.C. Government declared an emergency. People were stranded on the highway and in some cases, had to shelter in barns all night. Hugh was worried that the Optimist would sink under the weight of the snow, so he and Caroline ventured out to Ioco in the Jeep and shovelled off the decks. Thank goodness for four-wheel drive. But the snow put the finish on much more activity for the rest of the year, and it was the first year in a long time that we did not bother with a New Year’s party. Still, we were tired and happy to stay home, read books and do puzzles. And Max was the happiest of all. Long walks in the snow, fun with snowballs while we shoveled the drive, and captive people who stayed home all the time. A perfect way for puppet dog to round up the year.

During 1996, we spent another summer at Pender Harbour, but although we had now purchased the Garden Bay cottage, we were still holidaying on the Madeira Park side because the cottage there simply wouldn’t sell. We had rented the Garden Bay cottage to Patty Jackson, who worked at the Sundowner, so we had a good tenant, but the financial strain of paying a mortgage and caring for three properties was starting to show. Still, even though we were disappointed not to be in our new cottage, we were determined to enjoy the summer. Once again, the girls had friends come to stay, and during Jen Guccliemucci’s stay with us, the girls had a particularly interesting adventure—one that even carried over after we returned to town.

Caroline and Katie had been well taught by Hugh in boat-handling and seamanship, so the girls were allowed to take the outboard dinghy out on their own. Katie and Jen particularly enjoyed this, often packing picnics and heading for the islands in the mouth of the bay. One day, on their return, they were tying up our dinghy when they saw a baby seal clinging to the outboard of an adjacent boat. They came running up to tell us and we all went down to inspect the little creature.

It was quite adorable and we were concerned that it had been abandoned, although Hugh informed us that the mothers sometimes left their pups while they went fishing and later came back for them. This was confirmed when we phoned the Wildlife Rescue at Halfmoon Bay, but we were told to keep an eye on the seal, and if it was still there after a couple of days, we could bring it down and they would send it to the marine mammal rehabilitation centre in Vancouver.

The baby seal was certainly well attended for the next couple of days. The girls visited it constantly, reporting on how waif-like it was and urging us to take action. I had christened it Cedric Seal, although the girls informed me that they had called it Pooky. Whatever its name, it was certainly the centre of attention. After the second day passed and the pup was still there, we decided that it was time to rescue him. Hugh adeptly manoeuvred him into a fishnet and from there, deposited him in a large Tupperware tub. The tub was placed in the back of our Jeep, and since Cedric-Pooky was taking up Max’s usual spot, Max had to sit wedged at my feet by the front passenger seat. Max’s nose was going a mile a minute all the way to Halfmoon Bay. If a dog could cry, I swear Max was doing so. He wanted so desperately to see the fascinating cargo that was creating such a tantalizing odor.

Once at Wildlife Rescue, the girls sadly said goodbye to their new friend. However, they were very excited when the volunteers told them that they would be able to visit Cedric-Pooky in town and see his progress as he was rehabilitated back into the wild. Sure enough, after we returned home, I called the centre and set up an appointment. I was informed that our seal was now officially christened Voyageur and was doing well.

Over the next weeks, we made several visits to the marine mammal rehabilitation site in Vancouver Harbour and monitored Voyageur’s progress. At first he was in a solo pond, where he splashed around happily, safe, secure and regularly fed. Next, he moved to a double pond where he had a friend to socialize with; then finally, he made it to the big group pond where he had to compete for food with a horde of other growing baby seals. At last the day came when he was to be released back into the ocean. He was to be set free along with two other baby seals and all the ‘owners’ who had found the seals were invited to attend.

This entailed a trip to Bowen Island, which was the destination point for the release. When we arrived at Tunstall Bay, the Wildlife Rescue volunteers were already setting out three small cages at the water’s edge. We hurried down to check on Voyageur. Like proud parents, we noticed that he was eagerly whiffling at the front of his cage, clearly ready to embark on his new journey, whereas the other two seals had flopped down lethargically and were showing little interest in what was going on.

But to our mortification, when the grate was lifted, the other seals bounded out into the ocean whereas Voyageur slunk back to the rear of his cage and refused to come out. We quipped, “Now, Voyageur,” and urged him on, but he ignored our entreaties. Finally, he had to be tipped into the water, and even then, he seemed most uneasy venturing forth. In spite of reassurances from the Wildlife volunteers, we were worried about our nervous seal. He continued to quiver on the brink while the other two seals swam and played, instantly adapting to their new surroundings.

After what seemed an eternity, Voyageur started to swim, but his progress was still hesitant. By this time we were all convinced that he was never going to survive in the wild. And then, miraculously, he found his way to the other two seals, and we watched with baited breath as they circled, divided, then came back together. Yet again, Voyageur drifted away on his own like a little lost soul, but his fellow seals obviously understood the drill. They headed back to him in tandem; no seals going astray from this release. Suddenly all three formed a line and in graceful formation, they swam out to sea. Still together, they continued until they were just three small dots in the distance which ultimately disappeared from view.

With a sigh of relief, we thanked the volunteers and left the beach. It was time to go back to the car, where Max was impatiently waiting. The end to an amazing adventure with our little sea dog and time to pay attention to our dog dog. Max leaped out of the Jeep, and we walked him along the shore, happy to see him enjoying the smells and sights in this beautiful new location. Silently, though, we were all sending good thoughts out to sea where the three little voyageurs were exploring their vast new world.

The beginning of 1996 was memorable because of the massive amount of snow, and Max, with his husky genes, loved it. He and Brandy had wonderful romps in the woods. One day, we came across an old mattress that someone had abandoned in the bush. Max fell in love with this discarded piece of bedding, and on every walk he would attack it with great abandon, sending snow and fluff flying everywhere.

Much as the dogs loved the snow, it was a big nuisance for me. I had scheduled more voice-over auditions in January, but several times I had to cancel because of the condition of the roads.  Caroline had valiantly recorded Max’s voice for the Christmas show, and had done the part extremely well. However, even she felt that Max ought to have a male voice, so the search was on. During my headhunting for singers, I called Jim Keary and he advised me to try Dwayne Campbell, another long-time member of Vagabond Players. I knew that Dwayne was a good actor and director, but didn’t realize that he could sing. Jim informed me that Dwayne had a very nice light tenor voice, so I followed through, and to my delight, Dwayne was interested in trying for the part.

When Dwayne came to the house to audition, Max glowered balefully. Dwayne was tall, and Max was always suspicious of large males. Dwayne was equally reserved about Max. He took one look at the expression on Max’s face and carefully negotiated his way around him. We headed up to my studio and locked Max out, since he had an annoying habit of shaking and making his chain rattle right in the middle of a take. Then we proceeded to try some pieces of music.

Dwayne’s singing voice was delightful. It was clear and melodious, with a very pleasing tone. I was greatly impressed and was on the verge of saying that I’d rather use him in roles that involved more lyrical numbers.  Max, after all, had patter songs or story songs—fun stuff, but hardly requiring such a musical tenor.  However, when Dwayne read some dialogue with me, it was instantly apparent that he had to play Max. His delivery of the lines caught my cheeky dog’s attitude to perfection.  There was no question that I had found Max’s voice.

Thus began a partnership that spanned many years and many shows. Dwayne aced all of Max’s roles, but he also took other more lyric parts. I was delighted to have someone who could record melodic and semi-operatic pieces with me—not to mention chorus parts, for Dwayne and I recorded the various lines into my eight-track and then I duplicated them until I built up a full-bodied chorus. We became so ambitious that we even managed some of the chorus music from Faust for the ‘Phantom’ Halloween show.

Still, it was Dwayne’s work as Max that put him on the map with our audiences. And what fun we had during those recording sessions. Dwayne cheerfully put up with all the witticisms from the other recording artists—if he was on a break and we needed him, some bright spark would bellow down the stairs, “Dwayne, Come!”—because he knew perfectly well that his voice-over was the one that everyone loved best. Max was the only puppet that ever received applause on his entrance. Max was the star and Max had found his voice.

That year, our family had a particularly busy and social Christmas. Back in November, I had received a call from my Cousin Peter in Australia to say that he and his family were coming to Canada for a ski holiday and would love to see us. I was delighted to hear from him. Years before, in the days when I was a free-wheeling single girl, his sister, Julie, had come to Vancouver and we had had great fun together. Therefore, I looked forward to meeting Peter, especially since he and his wife, Marliese, had two daughters, Catherine and Janelle, who were close in age to Caroline and Katie. The family had been living in Singapore in recent years, with a lovely home complete with maid-service provided by Peter’s employer, so I hoped they wouldn’t be too taken aback at our chaotic home.

It transpired that Peter and Co planned to arrive on December 18 and be in Vancouver until January 2, when they would head to Whistler to ski. Then they would return to town for two days mid-January before heading home. It also transpired that they were hoping that we could put them up while they were in town. This I had not expected, but with great trepidation, I agreed. The trepidation was twofold. Although by the 18th we would have finished our run of private puppet gigs, we would be performing our public show at the Shadbolt on December 23rd, which meant we would be in our production week when our guests arrived. The second cause of trepidation was, of course, Max. How could I get through two weeks of house guests without an incident? The prospect was daunting.

However, my fears proved groundless and the visit turned out to be wonderful. On the first day, I issued two directives to Catherine and Janelle:

1) Unlike Singapore, we don’t have servants in this house so everyone cleans up after themselves;
2) On absolutely no account is anyone to touch Max. You stay a minimum of two feet away from him and never try to play with him. You say, “Hi, Max,” and then completely ignore him.

The girls nodded cheerfully and appeared to comply. Peter and Marliese were the perfect house guests. They were easy-going and insisted on taking turns at helping with chores. They cooked their own breakfasts and organized their days, but joined us for mutually compatible activities such as dog walks, shopping or a theatre trip to the Playhouse to see The Importance of Being Earnest. Marliese helped me finish sewing the puppet costumes, and on show day, the whole family came along, helped set up our theatre, and acted as ushers. The show was a sellout. We should have done two performances as we could have filled the theatre twice, and what a treat it was to have eight enthusiastic workers pitching in to help instead of our usual four. After the show, we struck the set in record time, and then went Christmas shopping in the evening.

Christmas Day was fabulous. The four giggling girls tucked down in Caroline’s room on Christmas Eve, and the Christmas morning stocking opening was a party in itself. The heavy snowfall was a thrill for the Aussies, who had never experienced a white Christmas before. Mum and Dad came over for dinner, and later in the evening, after we’d driven them home, there were still enough people to play games and tackle a jigsaw puzzle. As our girls continue to say to this day, “It was the best Christmas ever!”

The week following Christmas was lovely too. More friends and family came to visit our houseguests, and in between the socializing and the shovelling, we went for long rambles in the snow. The girls accompanied us to Caroline’s skating lessons and enjoyed watching her prowess on the rink. Then on New Year’s Eve, we threw our usual house party, but with the cousins helping, it seemed a breeze compared to the usual amount of work. New Year’s Day was easy too. After a long lie in, everyone pitched in to clean up after the party. Then we took Max for a walk along the Fraser Foreshore, after which we spent a lazy afternoon finishing the jigsaw puzzle.

When the Aussies set off for Whistler, we really missed them. Max, who had managed to be relatively angelic during their stay, reverted to misbehavior and found some fish guts to roll in on his very next walk. We were busy, too, as we had to brush up Die Fledermaus, the Sequel  for the Vancouver Guild of Puppetry New Year’s party which was to be hosted in our home on January 8. There were financial items to wrap up after the Shadbolt show, too, plus preparations for the next round of shows scheduled for the spring. Before we knew it, January 19 rolled around and the Aussies were back for their last two days. We celebrated their last evening by all going out to the Souvlaki House, which was something of a disaster for me since I became extremely ill from underdone chicken, so I was very fragile the next day when we drove them to the airport.

Since the holiday had gone so well without any dog-related problems, we brought Max out of the car so that he could say goodbye to the cousins, albeit at the usual designated two-foot distance. I was hugging Peter and Marliese and saying our farewells when suddenly I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I glanced round to see Catherine going bonk, bonk, bonk on Max’s head, roughing up his ears, and bidding him a fond farewell. When she looked up and saw my horrified expression, she grinned and said, “No worries. I’ve been doing that the whole time we’ve been here.” Everyone howled with laughter and Max looked smug. So much for Mummy being in charge!

Halloween and Christmas were the two seasons when we had the greatest demand for puppet shows, so the fall was always our busy time. It was also becoming difficult to accept gigs which conflicted with Hugh’s workdays or the girls’ extra-curricular activities. When we performed Katie’s Halloween Adventure during a schoolday for Parkwood Manor in Coquitlam, Hugh and I set the show up the evening before, and then I took Marcella with me to perform the next day since both Caroline and Katie had other activities scheduled. Marcella and I were happy to see how well the show was received by the seniors. It was a deliciously satirical take on Phantom of the Opera, and Katie, although not present as a puppeteer, was present on the soundtrack and had done a lovely job on her voiceovers.

In November, the new Shadbolt Arts Centre opened in Burnaby and we had been invited to perform along with many other Burnaby groups. I had been heavily involved in the early stages of the upgrade to the Burnaby Arts Centre, and the lobbying process had begun to bear fruit when I was president of the Burnaby Arts Council. Therefore, it was gratifying to be performing at the opening of the new facility. Hugh and I had gone one step further, and Elwoodettes Marionettes was also to be the first group to rent the new studio theatre. We had booked it for December 23 and planned to give a public performance of Babes in the Wood. This rental was proving an expensive proposition, so we were glad we had a lot of paid gigs coming up as well.

Before we knew it, Christmas was approaching. We issued our usual invitation for the Second Street School teachers to bring classes to our final dress rehearsal. This was a great field trip for the kids and easy for the teachers since our home was only two blocks from the school. The visit was fun for us too since the teachers always had their classes draw pictures and write letters afterwards, and we loved seeing the children’s comments.

Come December, there were numerous performances of Guard Dog in Concert. There were private parties; office parties for companies like Nissan or Motorola; hospital or senior-home shows; Rotary club bookings; not to mention the Burnaby Village Museum. In retrospect, I wonder how we had the energy to do so many shows. On one weekend we set up one theatre at the Village Museum in the morning, then set our other theatre up at Parkwood manor in the evening. On the Saturday morning, we performed the show at Parkwood Manor, then did two afternoon shows at the Village Museum, after which we struck all the gear and transported it to the BC Government Employee’s Union headquarters for shows which were to be performed on the Sunday.

Amidst all these gigs, we were rehearsing Babes for the Shadbolt show. Needless to say, Max did a lot of bows and ate a lot of cookies. Even when the gigs were booked for places he couldn’t attend, he always made sure he got his share of the loot during rehearsals. However, Max did get to come with us for our final paid gig that month. The Pender Harbour Lion’s Club had so enjoyed the summer shows that they had offered to pay our way up the Coast and have us do a show at their Christmas Party. That proved a long day. We took the early ferry to Langdale and reached Pender Harbour mid-morning. The girls walked Max while Hugh and I set up the theatre in the community hall. We lunched and napped in our motorhome—even Max was glad to curl up and close his eyes—then performed the show for an enthusiastic audience at two-thirty. After that, we struck our set and came home via the six-thirty ferry, leaving Max with his motorhome dinner while we all trooped up to the cafeteria to eat. For once, Max did not look put out to be left on his own. Puppet dog had had a long day.

As the summer drew to a close, we were busy listing the Pender Harbour cottage and arranging a loan so that we could buy the property on Pool Road. We didn’t realize what a rocky ride this would prove and how long it would be before we could actually take possession of our coveted holiday home. However, soon our activities in town took over and we had little time to dream about visits to the coast.

The challenge of reining in our naughty dog continued, because any change of pace affected Max’s behaviour and it often felt as if I had to train him all over again. Max was full of whoopee now that he was allowed to run free again, so once back into the routine of walking with Edna, we made a habit of staying on the lower trails of the George Derby Woods. Here, the long line came in handy. If Max pricked up his ears and was ready to go AWOL, it was a lot easier to nab the end of the rope than it was to collar him. However, I had to wear heavy gardening gloves. Otherwise I was in danger of getting bad rope burns on my hands.

Predictably, though, Max found a way to have a disaster, even on his long line. One day, as Edna and I entered one of the rougher trails, Max loped ahead and ran around a large rotting stump that lay to the side of the path. As Edna and I drew nearer, we noticed a couple of wasps flying nearby. Then a couple more appeared. Suddenly, we clued in. Max had dragged his line around the stump and stirred up a wasp’s nest. As we reached him, we realized that the wasps were starting to swarm. There was no time to untangle the line. I bent down and quickly unclipped Max’s collar. Then we ducked our heads, called the dogs and started to run. It was terrifying. As we charged ahead, I felt a sharp pain in my back and ripped off my jacket, shaking it as we kept racing forward. By the time we had outrun the wasps, I realized that I had been stung right in the centre of my back. This was very frightening, since I had now started to develop a bad reaction to stings so I knew that I needed to get to a doctor. However, we had to check our dogs, and although Brandy was all right, we found two wasps burrowing in the top of Max’s head. Fortunately, with my garden gloves, I was able to pull them out. Then I handed Max over to Edna, who assured me she could take him home, ice his wound and feed him Benadryl. Having left Max in safe hands, I set off to sprint to my doctor’s office a mile away.

Later, having been given an injection by my doctor, I returned to Edna’s house to pick up Max. When I saw him, I was aghast. In spite of the icing and Benadryl, his head had swollen so badly that he appeared to have three ears. The pyramid in the middle was as symmetrical and pointed as the two legitimate ears. Poor Max received little sympathy when we got home. Hugh complained that he would now have to make a new long line, and the girls gurgled with amusement and decided Max was in perfect shape to go out trick and treating for Halloween. He could be a cone-head! Neither Max nor I, nursing our ice-packs, was in the least amused. But as Hugh pointed out, that’s what I got for have a dog who was a Ho-Hum-Ham-Fisted Husky.

In August of that year, Max had a very special weekend. The girls had enjoyed visits from their friends in July, but now it was time for me and Hugh to invite our own friends to the Coast. Dick and Edna were looking forward to trying out their new motorhome, so they came to stay for the long weekend, complete with Brandy and C.B., their lop-eared rabbit.

Max had a very atavistic nature, and the concept of the pack was firmly entrenched in his genes. He and Brandy were so bonded from their daily walks in town that Edna and I believed Max considered our two families to be one pack that, for some inexplicable reason, lived at two different locations. Therefore, when the other half of our ‘pack’ arrived to stay at the cottage, Max was thrilled to have everyone in one spot. At the end of the day, when we all sat visiting in the cottage living room, he was as blissfully contented as I ever remember seeing him. His people on chairs and Brandy sprawled out with him on the carpet; that was the way it was supposed to be.

It was a lovely weekend. Edna and I took the dogs for several walks each day. Hugh and I took our guests for a boat ride too, though Brandy was not too sure about the Optimist. However, sea dog Max leaped on board as if to show her how it was done, and once she ventured on board, they sat side by side, nose to the wind, as we chugged across the bay. We were actually glad to have our dogs on board, as there was a huge yacht moored in the harbour, anchored in such a way that it was rotating slowly, giving the occupants a changing view of the scenery. We took our guests closer to take a look, wondering which celebrity might be the owner, but as we neared, two hefty looking men in black lowered the Zodiac at the rear of the yacht, hopped in, and came gliding towards us. Max’s hackles went up when he saw them coming—his wolf genes recognized danger when it was approaching—but we decided discretion was the better part of valour and steered off in the other direction. So much for freedom of the waves.

There were some other issues regarding freedom that had come up during the summer, though these related to land. Our cottage was part of an estate, and although the residences were separate, the land and docks were communally held and there were a lot of rules and regulations. Along with these came a lot of gossip, not to mention interfering people. A couple of the homeowners were particularly negative about dogs, and as a result, we had become a little jaded about our holiday location. We had gone so far as to start looking for alternate properties, although nothing had really fit our needs or limited price range. However, the week before Dick and Edna came to visit, we had noticed a listing for a cottage on Pool Road. The price was fairly low, so we thought we’d check it out. We had no idea where Pool Road was, other than the fact that it was somewhere on the other side of the harbour. After much exploration and driving about, we ended up in Garden Bay, still with no idea of how to find the cottage we were seeking, so we gave up and stopped for lunch at Colonel Flounder’s, the fish and chip shop that we’d often visited when coming across by boat.

Our whole family had always loved this side of the harbour, with its two bays separated by a small peninsula that jutted out into the ocean. The Sundowner Inn stood looking out over Hospital Bay, so called because the heritage house, although now a bed-and-breakfast hotel, had originally been St. Mary’s Hospital, the first hospital on the Sunshine Coast. On the Garden Bay side was the local pub. Between the two bays was a pretty lagoon with a channel that drained into Hospital Bay. A footbridge spanned the channel so that walkers coming along the main road could cross to the general store and marina without walking right round the lagoon. Colonel Flounder’s was on the road that circled the lagoon, and between the fish-and-chip shop and the pub were two small cottages. There was also a short, but scenic pub path that followed the shoreline from the road around to the pub. It was truly the prettiest spot on the Sunshine Coast and I had fallen in love with it many years before when Hugh had first taken me across by boat to have a meal at the pub.

Therefore, although we had failed to find our mystery cottage, we were perfectly happy to find ourselves at Colonel Flounder’s. As we sat enjoying our fish and chips, giving way to the baleful glances at our elbow and sharing the odd French fry with Max, we continued to speculate as to how we could find the listed property. The Colonel, overhearing our conversation, looked at us as if we were simpletons. He gestured to the lagoon and the road at the edge of his property. That was Pool Road; couldn’t we see the pool right in front of us. His arm swept in the other direction and pointed to the other side of his shop. The cottage next door to him was the one for sale.

We couldn’t believe it. Yes, it was rather derelict, but there it sat, in our favourite location, facing the lagoon and between the two bays. There was a garden that we could fence and give Max a lovely area to run and play, and the docks were close for Hugh to moor his boat. The glorious Garden Bay Lake was only a ten-minute walk up the road for swimming. Whatever it took, we were determined to sell the other cottage and buy this little jewel.

Naturally, we had told Dick and Edna of our hopes and plans, and on their last day with us, they took us to dinner at the Sundowner Inn. The girls opted to stay at Madeira Park and visit with their friends, so we left the dogs in their charge and took the boat over to the other side. Edna was as enchanted with Garden Bay as I had always been , and she understood why I was so keen to have our holiday home there. As we sat at the window of the Sundowner, looking out onto the lagoon and watching the sun sinking slowly towards the distant hills, we speculated happily about the prospect of future summers in this beautiful spot. After dinner, we strolled over the road to look at our prospective cottage. Then we headed back across the bay to have hot drinks with the girls and walk our dogs. Happy kids, happy dogs, happy grown-ups. It was a lovely ending to a perfect weekend.

After the run of Babes in the Woods, Marcella returned to town. Now it was Katie’s turn to have a friend stay at the cottage, and so her bubbly classmate, Jen Guggliemucci, came to join us for a couple of weeks. Jen wanted to help with the performance of Guard Dog on Duty at the Lion’s Club picnic, but there were two weeks before that gig, so the girls had lots of time for boating, swimming and holiday fun. However, Max was continuing to be restless. He was used to being set free on the trails in town, but it was difficult to find somewhere suitable on the Coast. One would think that the country would be better than the city for dog walking, but it was actually much more restrictive.

There were lots of trails if one headed up above the highway, but unlike the trails in town, these were not an option because they were full of deer, not to mention the occasional bear, elk or even cougar. There were also small farms, which meant livestock that sent tantalizing scents into the air. On Lasqueti Island, there were even signs indicating that dogs chasing sheep would be shot. Finally, Hugh and I decided that our best bet was to take Max to the two small islands in the mouth of the harbor and let him run there.

We packed a picnic and loaded everyone into the Optimist, though Hugh tied our smaller dinghy behind the bigger boat. Then we set off for the mouth of the harbor, anchored off the islands and went ashore using the dinghy with the outboard. The islands were intriguing for the girls, because there were derelict shacks and offshore shipwrecks. Once we unloaded our picnic, the girls went exploring and Hugh and I let Max trot after them. Since the islands were so small, we thought there was no chance of him getting into trouble. Famous last words. No sooner had Hugh opened the thermos and poured me a coffee than we heard a thundering noise, rather like the hooves of a charging horse. We looked up to see a large doe racing across the island, with Max, stubby legs flying, furiously trying to catch her.

The deer splashed into the ocean and began to swim out to sea and Max, undeterred, jumped into the water and began to swim after her. We thought he would give up and return after a few yards, but not Max. He kept going out into the bay, straight into the path of a large motor cruiser that was coming up the middle of the channel. Hugh leaped up, hopped into the outboard and set off after our delinquent dog, and finally, by looping around him and herding him like a steer in a cattle drive, managed to bring him back to shore. Sigh! So much for our peaceful picnic. Max was very happy with his exploit. However, his frazzled owners were not. From now on, the summer was going to be Guard Dog on Leash. No exceptions.

A week later, came the day of our gig at the Lion’s Club Park, and finally we managed to have a trouble-free day, other than a minor blip when a puppet hit the deck. However, once we’d reassured the girls that this was not an earth-shattering problem, all relaxed and had a good time. The festival was great fun, with a pancake breakfast and lots of activities for kids. We performed four shows, but between each performance, Hugh and I found a perfect trail to walk Max, albeit on his long line, while the girls played and socialized with the other young people. And as a bonanza, Max got to eat his fill of the leftover sausages from the pancake breakfast. Guard Dog off Duty was a little green in the gills from overindulgence, but he had done his tricks, reaped his rewards and was a very happy dog come end of the day.

The school year was drawing to a close and everyone was excited about our imminent trip. On the last day of term, Hugh and I picked up Caroline from school and went shopping at Costco. Since we were renting halls to perform our shows, we also had to provide the concessions. We bought flats of pop and potato chips, vainly trying to impress on Caroline that this bonanza of junk food was for the patrons, not the family. Then we came home to stash the goods and make dinner. Later, we stuck decals on our posters and organized for the upcoming trip.

The next few days were a flurry of last-minute rehearsals and packing. Then, on the morning of July 9, we loaded the motorhome and set off for the Horseshoe Bay ferry. Max was excited about the trip, as were Caroline and Katie, since Marcella was along to help with the shows. The weather was glorious for the ferry crossing, though the girls were more interested in the gift shop and concessions than in the scenery. We disembarked at Langdale and set off for the drive up the Coast. Once we arrived at our Pender Harbour summer home, we parked the motorhome in front of the cottage, right below the front-room window. The girls and Max marked out their sleeping quarters: girls in the lower suite and Max on a cushy rug by the front-room window. By nightfall, we were all settled in comfortably.

We had five days before our first  show, so the girls took advantage of the time to make friends with local youngsters and enjoy the fun of the seaside. Unlike the girls, Max could not be turned loose. He was on red alert, with his wolf genes picking up every exciting new scent. It was like being towed by a tractor every time we set off for a walk. We did some more leash training with lots of reverses to remind him of his lessons.  After this review, he walked more sedately, but I could tell from what I called his ‘double ear pleats’ that he was on the lookout for action every step of the way. I became very used to watching my dog and being prepared to brace myself when the double ear pleats turned triple.

A couple of days into our stay, we had an extremely upsetting incident. We woke up in the morning to discover that our motorhome had been broken into during the night and all our concession fare had been stolen. Down went the profits yet again. The most galling thing was the fact that our feisty dog had proved useless as a watchdog. Max had been sleeping right by the window and had not even woken up, yet alone alerted us to the intruders. The constable who responded to the call thought it was hilarious when we told him about the show we were performing for the Lions’ Club. Everyone agreed that the title should be changed to Guard Dog Off Duty.

So off we went to restock the concessions, this time loading them into the cottage until show day. All too soon, the marathon weekend arrived. We set up at St. Bart’s church in Gibsons on the Friday evening; then performed Babes in the Wood at 11:00am, 1:00 pm and 3:00 pm, after which we struck our theatre, drove to Pender Harbour and set up at the Music School. On Sunday, we performed the show four times at the music school: three times during the day and once at seven in the evening. Max slept in the motorhome while we performed the shows, and then enjoyed walks with various family members taking shifts between shows. After the final show, the exhausted kids headed back to the cottage and Hugh and I remained to take everything apart. Looking back, I’m amazed that we coped. From this point in time, I feel tired just reading the notes in my diary!

Once we got through the weekend, it was time to relax and enjoy the Coast again, though Hugh and I found ourselves dealing with AWOL teens as well as a dog with the same urge. Come the following weekend, we ended up one performer short for our shows in Sechelt which rather took the gloss off the event, although those of us who were there managed well through our gritted teeth. Once back at the cottage, having rounded up and suitably chastised the miscreant, Max, seeing us distracted, took the opportunity to slip out unobserved. So a second AWOL panic set in. Where was the dog?

We all raced outside to look for him, fanning out in different directions. I climbed the steep bank behind our cottage which led to an adjacent waterfront estate. As I clambered out onto a long drive that went all the way from the road down to the docks, I glanced toward the ocean and spied Max at the water’s edge. Given the day we had experienced, I was probably fuelled as explosively as a nuclear reactor. I filled my lungs and bellowed: “Max! Come!!!!” His head shot up and, like a rocket, he zoomed up from the water, raced along the drive, and skidded to a halt to a sit at my feet. As I clipped on his leash, a thought flashed into my head: So that’s what Gary Gibson meant when he said that a command had to sound like a command! As for Max, he padded demurely beside me all the way home and settled down for a nap on his rug by the window. Guard Dog Off Duty without a care in the world.