Intruder Alert!

Normally, I write about things that have happened to me. Although I was not directly involved with this event, apparently it is entirely my fault. According to my husband, if I hadn't moved the dogs to PEI and had instead left them with him in Guelph, this situation could have been prevented.

Although I moved to PEI in February of 2013, my husband remains living and working in Guelph while we wait as patiently as possible for a job opportunity to open up for him on PEI (it's only been 264 days, but who's counting?!). As he works rotating shift work with frequent last-minute shift, we decided that the dogs would be better off with me in PEI because I work regular 8 hour days. Not to mention that we knew the dogs would love living at the beach!

The huz was trying to get some sleep after a long night shift. Sometimes, it can be difficult to sleep during the day due to noise coming from the street, the school next door or from our neighbours. So when he tries to sleep during the day, there can be a lot of background noise which he has learned to tune out. On this day however, after being asleep for about 4 hours, he was disturbed by a noise which sounded different from the usual background noise. This sound appeared to be coming form INSIDE the house. (Sounds like the beginning of a horror movie, doesn't it!)    

He woke, waited and listened .... and heard nothing. He thought perhaps he had just been in a very realistic dream. Just as he rolled over and was about to go back to sleep, he heard the noise again. Perplexed, he sat up in bed, straining his ears to try and figure out where the noise was coming from. He heard the noise again, followed by the jingle of something brushing against his keys which had been left on the kitchen counter. This could mean only one thing, the noise was indeed coming from inside the house! So he jumped out of bed and strode quickly to the kitchen, expecting to find some cracker attempting a B&E (you can blame this rash conclusion on the day job).

Much to his surprise, rather than finding a person in the kitchen, he found a large grey squirrel! The presumptuous squirrel had invited himself into our kitchen by chewing a rather large hole in the screen on the kitchen window. Then, he helped himself to a loaf of bread on the kitchen counter. Rather than ripping the bread bag open as he did to the window screen, the resourceful squirrel managed to take the twist tie off of the opening of the bag and crawl his way inside. He managed to consume 3 slices of bread and was working on his forth before he woke up the occupant of the house!

This stealthy squirrel wan't the least bit pleased by the fact that he now had an audience and therefore, proceeded to have a tantrum. Not only was he vocalizing loudly, but the squirrel began running laps around the kitchen in panic, knocking over dishes in the drying rack, boxes of cereal that were perched on top of the fridge, and scattering apples from a bowl on the counter top. The huz tried to escort the squirrel to the side door, failing miserably. The squirrel opted instead for running back into the house, into the living room and began climbing the walls. Finally, after multiple attempts at herding the squirrel, the huz trapped him in the front porch where the secret squirrel was able to escape to the outside world without further incident.

The huz however, was not impressed as he now had to throw out the bread, clean up all the items which had been knocked over, and fix the hole in the window screen. How is this my fault? I was wondering the same thing. Apparently, if the dogs had remained in Guelph, the squirrel would not have ventured into the house. (Because our Labrador Retrievers are such good guard dogs!) Since I have the dogs with me in PEI, it's my fault that the squirrel got in and caused such a mess! I certainly had a good chuckle upon hearing the story, but I feel that blaming my present geographic location for this mess is very much "Man Logic". As I see it, even if the dogs had been in the house, the squirrel may still have thought that the loaf of bread was too appetizing to pass up. And if the secret squirrel had gained access to the house, the dogs may have caused an even bigger mess trying to chase it around. I guess we will never know.    

My Accident Prone Chocolate Lab

As someone who studies genetics, I can tell you that the different colors of Labrador retrievers (black, chocolate and yellow) are primarily caused by a handful of genes. Everyone jokes that chocolate labs are the "crazy" ones. As if one of those few genes which influence color also codes for "craziness" or "hyperactivity". I refused to believe that statement, opting for the idea that dogs themselves are not inherently bad, that there are only bad owners. Now that we have both a black and a chocolate lab, I am not as certain about my view.

Riker has been "Special" since the moment we brought him home. He's a happy boy, but sometimes he gets hyper-focused on a particular person or object. The result of this behaviour has been hilarity and injury (those two things normally go together, right?). We are at the point now where I want to keep a post on a whiteboard stating: "Number of days Riker has been injury free: _____". At the time of writing, the answer to this fill-in-the-blank statement is only one.

Riker is the kind of dog who gets so focused on getting in the car that he can't wait for the tailgate to open fully and smashes his head off it as he jumps in the back of the car. This pup has ulcerated his eye by running full speed into a stick, ripped a nail off at the base while chasing a tennis ball, hyper-extended his left forelimb, jumped out of a car window while driving, launched himself off a flight of 7 stairs without touching any on the way down .... and the list goes on. This week however, there was a new injury.

I am not exactly sure how he managed to knock out a premolar, but it happened. We went to the beach at lunch for our regular walk. As usual, I was throwing a stick so hyper Riker would burn off some energy in the water. This retriever is very "stick-focused". At one point, he returned with the stick and when he dropped it at my feet, I noticed that it was covered in blood. I took a look in his mouth and found a gaping hole where a tooth should have been. To make matters that much more exciting, I could see that some of the tooth was still there and had been broken off just below the gum line. Obviously, this required a visit to the veterinarian to have the remainder of the tooth extracted before it caused an infection.

And this guy just doesn't slow down. He never stops. Even after knocking his own tooth out, he kept pestering me to throw the stick again and again. There will be no more sticks for this dog! There is a new beach toy - a soft, floating toy to satisfy his retrieving instincts. I am left wondering, does one of these 3 genes that are responsible for color in the chocolate morph of the Labrador Retriever also contribute to the potential to be accident-prone?

The best comment I have received to date about Riker was the following: "I really hope he makes it to his next birthday" Just another day in the life of Riker the chocolate.

The Curious Case of the Lost Keys

Although it may have been the first official day of fall, sunny and 23oC certainly didn't feel fall-like. With the knowledge that cooler weather is imminent, I decided to take the dogs to the beach for a walk/swim and try to get the most out of this beautiful day. It was just after high tide, which in my opinion is the best time to go to the beach so that the water is deep enough for the dogs to swim.

 



When we arrived at the beach, it occurred to me that I was not wearing clothing with pockets so I had no where to put my car keys. I decided to clip my car keys onto one of the dogs leashes which were hanging across my shoulders. As per usual, Riker found a stick and insisted that I throw it for him to retrieve. The surf today was higher than usual, probably 2-2.5 ft swells in some places, but that didn't stop Riker from getting in the water.

We had walked about a quarter of the way down the beach when I suddenly experienced time in slow motion. I was throwing the stick with my right hand and just happened to clip the leashes which were hanging from my right shoulder. Somehow, in this split-second collision, the car keys were dislodged from the leash and were sent on an arcing trajectory towards the ocean surf. Two words passed through my mind: "OH FUCK!" as I watched gravity take over, drawing my keys down towards the surface of the water. With a tiny splash, they were gone. Riker simply continued into the water to retrieve the stick, if only he could retrieve my keys!

When something like this happens, your mind is spinning trying to come up with solutions and my mind was no exception. My first thought was: "Well, at least I have a spare set at home" until I realized that ALL my keys to AquaBounty were also on the key chain. So what was my second thought you ask? Well, I decided to go in after those keys.

I started to walk towards the water and paused, was this really worth it? What were the chances of me actually rescuing my keys? With every moment I debated, with every wave cycle, I knew that those keys were being sucked out farther and farther from where they first entered the water. I made a decision, I took a quick look around and found that there was only one other person out on the beach and they were walking away from my location nearing the far end of the beach. So, I removed my hiking boots and socks, took off my ball cap and sunglasses, stripped down to my underwear and in the water I went. By the way, the air temperature may have been 23oC, but the water temperature was certainly more frigid!

The frigid water alone was enough to make me consider giving up, but the rough surf made it near impossible to see anything. After a few minutes of searching, I thought that my keys were gone. But out of the corner of my eye, I caught the glimpse of something brilliantly white on the ocean floor just before the next wave came crashing down. I waded over and thrust my hands downwards to the sand and came up with my keys! Thanks to my father for that one! My father bought me a roadside assistance plan for my birthday and gave me a white key tag two days ago with the emergency phone number on it. If it were not for that white key tag, I likely would have never seen my keys again.

I triumphantly got out of the water with my keys in hand. I was extremely happy that not only did I not lose the keys to the office, but I now was also holding the keys to my car. It is not a long walk back to the apartment, maybe 4 km from the beach (8 km round trip), but I was happy that I would not have to make the trek to get my spare key. That is until, I realized that I have a new car. And new cars do not have locking mechanisms on the exterior of the car doors. Nope, after being submerged in salt water for about 3 or 4 minutes, I had to hope that the electronic door lock was still functional if I had any hope of getting into my car.

Frustrated, I looked around the beach again and contemplated my options. If my electronic key fob didn't work, I could either start walking back to the apartment or call someone for help. Damn it! I left the cell phone in the car too! As the realization that I may have a long walk ahead of me began to sink in, I noticed that the only other person on the beach was walking with two dogs, beagles to be specific. This could only mean one thing, that I knew this person and therefore help was only a short walk away!

After trying to dry off enough with my socks to put my clothes back on, the dogs and I walked down the beach to catch up. I explained my predicament and after a laugh about my luck, we headed back to my car to test the electronics. Thankfully, I now had someone who could offer me a ride to the apartment if the electronic door lock was busted. When I got back to my car, I tried the fob three times before it finally worked and unlocked the doors, but I wasn't going to complain. My doors were unlocked and I had the keys to AquaBounty, all was good. I drove home and my key fob is presently sitting in a bag of rice. If it cannot be salvaged, at least I have a back up!            

"Haters gonna Hate!"

If there is one thing that seems to be a constant, it's that there will always be people who do not like dogs - and I always seem to find them. I have two Labrador retrievers who need a great deal of exercise. Additionally, Labs have been bred to love the water and to have a strong retrieving instinct.

Since our dogs have joined me on Prince Edward Island, they have loved spending time at the local beach. Just on the other side of the river from where I live, there is a fantastic, private beach about 1 km from end to end. There are two access points to this beach, one at the Eastern end of the beach where it meets the harbor and the other is located a mere 200 m west of the harbor.

Since it has been tourist season, I have worked hard to be a responsible pet owner and have limited my time at the beach to between 6-8 am and 7-9 pm. Now that the tourists have left and the cottagers have closed up for the season, I have been enjoying the beach with the dogs after work. Normally, the dogs and I are the only ones on the beach during this time. On a few occasions however, there has been a couple who appear to be in their late 60s who have also been enjoying the beach during my evening walks. When I have seen this couple before, I have made sure to give them plenty of space and stayed at least 200m or more away from them.

This trip to the beach was different. This time when I arrived at the beach, I found that the couple was walking East on the beach towards the harbor where I was playing with the dogs. I gave them a quick look and assumed (correctly) that they would be departing using the other access point. As such, I decided to remain where I was so as not to disturb their walk with two boisterous dogs.

As I stood in the tidal zone throwing sticks for our to Labs to retrieve from the waves, I noticed that the couple walked past the additional beach access and continued walking towards me. Based on this behavior, I assumed (incorrectly) that they were not bothered by dogs, because hey, why else would they knowingly put themselves in a position that would make them uncomfortable?

I directly my attention towards Riker and Bones once again as a threw two more sticks. Just as the boys were swimming out to retrieve these sticks, I was startled by a noise directly behind me. It was screaming, loud, high-pitched screaming. I turn around immediately to find a woman screaming, squealing, jumping and waving her arms. She was saying, "I'm deathly terrified of dogs, oh my god, oh my god, TERRIFIED!"

Now I am no expert in canine behavior, but I am pretty sure that rapid movements coupled with loud noises draw the attention of the average canine. At least, that is exactly what happened with Riker and Bones. One minute they are super focused on retrieving the stick I threw in the water and the next, they are bounding quickly back to shore to meet this new arrival.

Although energetic, our dogs are not horrible when it comes to listening to commands. So I yelled to get their attention, told them to sit and they did just that. Meanwhile, I am getting an earful from this woman who is still jumping and screaming that she is "terrified of dogs".

I tried to be as polite as possible when I told her that I understand and respect her fear of dogs but I wanted to let her know that our dogs have no malicious intent. This statement was criticized to the point of lunacy (in my opinion). The woman responded with "What do you mean no malicious intent? They were coming right for me, they were going to attack!"

Again, I tried to reassure her that Riker and Bones are not aggressive dogs and that they simply cannot understand that  some people do not want to meet them. I was just about to leave it at that and walk away when the woman replied "You and your filthy dogs should be on a leash! You shouldn't be allowed out in public with monsters!" And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the point where you could say that I lost my shit!

Still keeping my voice calm and even, I said to the woman, "Just a word of advice for the future whether you meet my dogs again or any other - If you feel uncomfortable in the presence of dogs, then the best thing to do would be avoidance and to be discrete. When you squeal and wave your hands in the presence dogs, this tells them that you want to play. So in the future, you may want to just quietly keep walking. If you had done that today, my dogs would have ignored you and kept chasing their stick."

My suggestions did not seem to sit well with her. I was then scolded for suggesting that she should change her behavior to accommodate my "filthy monsters" and that the beach was no place for dogs. That she was entitled to walk the full length of the beach when she wanted to and that she should not have to alter her walk just because I was there with my dogs. Apparently, I should have left my dogs at home for her safety. She even threatened to call the police to deal with me.

I finally looked at her and said, "Ma'am, you made the decision to walk to this end of the beach and you made the decision to draw attention to yourself with your behavior. My dogs have done nothing but sit here by my side and look at you. So I am sorry that you are uncomfortable around dogs but this could have been avoided if you had made different choices. I live here and I am just as entitled to use this beach as you are." With that, I turned and began walking away with Riker and Bones only to hear her reply, "Well, you are just a saucy little bitch, aren't you?!".

Yes, saucy little bitch indeed. How dare I walk on the beach. Thankfully, this has been the only negative experience I have encountered since moving to PEI. Prior to this event, I have only met friendly, dog loving people or those who simply do not show interest and are therefore not interesting to my Labs! So I am pretty confident that this couple was not local, I believe that they are - as the locals say - "on Island from away"!  

Baptism by Fire

I should have know by the way my day began that the best course of action would have been to roll over and go back to sleep. Every Saturday I wake up early to drive into Charlottetown to go to the gym and then hit up the farmers market. Considering the fact that I must drive 45 minutes just  to get to Charlottetown, I am ridiculously meticulous about my weekend planning. Each Friday night, I pack multiple bags for my various activities, usually a bag for CrossFit, a bag for wrestling practice and a bag of shower supplies and clean clothes (because when you live 45 minutes away, you MUST be prepared for everything!).

This weekend was no different except for the fact that my alarm did not go off. Today, I woke to the sounds of whining dogs at my bedroom door. In my semi-conscious state, I wondered why the dogs were up so early considering my 6:45 am alarm had not yet gone off. As I lay in bed for a few minutes trying to will the dogs back to sleep, I realized that it was brighter in my bedroom than it should be for 6 something in the morning. I opened my eyes and grabbed my cell phone (which I also use as an alarm clock) only to find that the battery is dead! I then stumble out of bed into then kitchen and check the time on the microwave only to find that it is 7:22 am. If I want to make it on time for my 8:30 am CrossFit class, I had to be out the door in 10 minutes! I will not lie, it did cross my mind to say "Aww, screw it! Go back to bed!" but I just couldn't do it. So I raced around the house, grabbing my things as I fed the dogs and prepped my post-workout protein shake.

I headed out the door at 7:34, jumped in my car and drove down to the gate, only to find that the last people who had been in the building the night before had locked the gate! This is a highly unusual circumstance as most of my colleagues leave the gate unlocked if they see my car in the parking lot. Instead of throwing open the gate, I had to race back to my car to grab my keys. When I arrived at the gate for the second time, I realized not only was the gate locked, but that I was locked IN!! The lock had been applied from the outside, so here I am trying to force my hand through the bars to reach the lock from the other side! And wouldn't you know it, I ended up dropping my keys so I had to get down on the ground and try to reach under the gate to reach the bastards! Right there, I should have said, "Nope, this just isn't going to happen today" and head back to bed. But no, I am too stubborn for that. I finally managed to reach my keys and get the gate open. Feeling relieved and only 6 minutes behind schedule, I got in my car and began my drive to Charlottetown.

Half way between St. Peter's Bay and Morell, I heard a loud "DING" noise come from my car. When I looked down at the dash I realized that was the sound of my gas light coming on. I slept in, I was behind schedule and now I have to stop for gas! I decided to stop for gas in Morell simply because this gas station looked relatively new so I assumed that I could pay at the pump to save time. FAIL! When I pulled up to the pumps, there was a sign to greet me which read: "Pay at the pump out of order. Please see attendant inside". Great ...... I filled my car and went inside to pay. Luckily, there was only one person in line ahead of me. However, that one person decided to check all of his lottery tickets from what appeared to be the last 6 months just as I was hoping to pay and be on my way. When I finally retunred to my car, I found that I was now 12 minutes behind schedule.  Although it seemed as though the universe was against me this morning, I made it into Charlottetown, late for my CrossFit class. But I managed to get through a pretty grueling workout regardless.    

Although I have been living at the AquaBounty apartment for a few months, because the husbandry staff has been ridiculously busy. I still have not completed all of the "on-call" training. In particular, one of the things which I have not yet been trained to do is how to deal with low oxygen alarms. Now in theory, is should not be hard. The alarm goes off, you figure out what tank it is and go downstairs to turn the oxygen up. First I hear the low oxygen alarm goes off on the panel in the lab and then I hear the phone ring. Between the high pitched squeal of the alarm and the ringing of the phone, I do not notice that the motion sensor has detected my movement and has triggered the count down on the security alarm. So I inadvertently set off the intrusion alarm (off to a good start!).

One of my colleagues who had just left the building then called to see if I could go downstairs to check on the tank in question. He gave me all the details regarding how to adjust the incoming oxygen but sadly, at this point I didn't even know the code to get me in the door to the grow out area where the broodstock are kept! After failing multiple times at trying to unlock the door, what do I do? I decide that it is a good idea to scale the wall, which apparently now is my MO.

I successfully made it into the grow out area without falling and cracking my skull on the cement floor. However, a low oxygen alarm which should have been an easy fix, turned into a 4 hour adventure with a couple of colleagues through the plumbing of AquaBounty's fish tanks! If nothing else, I have learned a great deal about the operation of the tank system from this experience. But I really need to stop getting locked out of places at work because I cannot afford to have another fence-related injury!        

First Impressions

How does the saying go? "You never get a second chance to make a first impression." Well, if that is the case then I screwed up BIG tonight! My dear friend H-bomb & her boyfriend are home from Alberta for a visit in the Maritimes. They even offered to travel all the way to Charlottetown so we could meet up for a visit. As this was my first time meeting the BF, I wanted to make a good first impression. So after work, I packed up all I would need for the evening. Since I was planning to hit the gym in Charlottetown before heading over to the Delta Hotel to meet my friends, I packed a bag with my shower things and some nice clothes to wear out for dinner afterwards. I'm going to be honest, I even brought makeup (which rarely happens!).

So after a great workout at CrossFit PEI, I shower, dress nicely, put on makeup, the whole deal. I get in my car and begin the frustratingly slow drive down University Ave to the downtown core. I take out my chocolate protein shake with the intent of drinking it while driving. I thought I was a multi-tasker, but apparently I was mistaken. After shaking up the shake and popping the top to take a drink, I found that not all of the protein powder was mixed in. So I closed the lid, OR SO I THOUGHT, and gave it one hell of a shake. Have you ever mistakenly turned your kitchen blender on without the lid being secure? Have you seen the kind of mess that can make in your kitchen? Well, picture that same mess all over my passenger seat, my purse & cell phone, the steering wheel, not to mention all over
ME. It was so ridiculous that if I hadn't been driving at the time, I would have pulled out my cell phone and taken a picture.

Not only am I covered in a viscus liquid and frustrated with my own foolishness, but I live 50 minutes away from town so I can't even go home to change! I then called H-Bomb in a panic to say that I was covered in goop, brown, chocolaty, sticky goop. No problem she says, we will figure out a solution - just come over. I went to the Delta, reeking of chocolate protein and found their room. As H-bomb is only about 1/2 my size, there was no way I was going to fit into any of er clothes. The BF on the other hand, very close to my size. The first impression to gave upon meeting my friend's boyfriend was that I was soaking wet from the rain, covered in chocolate goo and I had to borrow a pair of jeans, FROM the BF. "Hi, nice to meet you. Can you take your pants off? I think they would look better on me." Thankfully, he was game for some sharing.

After a great dinner and a long drive home, I couldn't even go to bed right away. Instead, I had to put all my protein stained clothes in the washing machine!

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how to make a first impression!

Learning to Deal with Late Night Alarms

We have a lot of alarms at work - no really, a whole freaking lot! We have alarms for the freezers if the temperatures vary too much (wouldn't want to lose all those valuable archived samples!), alarms if the power goes out, alarms for the fish tanks (low water, low oxygen, high chlorine, etc.) and alarms for building security (Stranger Danger!). There are various ways in which we are contacted about such alarms as well, sometimes the alarm company calls the main office phone, sometimes they set off the on-call pagers, or in the case of building security - there is a freaking loud bull horn that squeals "Weee-oooo, weeeee-oooo, weeeeee-oooo!".  Why do we need such a level of security you ask? Well, one reason is to protect our work. Whether that means keeping valuable samples frozen at -80oC or keeping the fish alive by maintaining a good environment in the tanks, it's important. But there is also the fear of Stranger Danger! 

There has always been small, relatively unorganized protesters at our door and this is something that is not expected to change. But since Green Peace decided to visit a few years back to bust windows and kick in doors, there has been added security (as in the addition of the 8ft high fence surrounding the property). And it is not unheard of, even here on the Eastern coast of Canada for "activist groups" (AKA - the dirty hippies) to break into facilities/sea cages to "liberate" the animals.



So the other night I am sound asleep in my bed, which remember is in an apartment attached to the building I work in. I am awoken by a startling noise, "Weee-oooo, weeeee-oooo, weeeeee-oooo!" Falling out of bed in surprise, I think, WTF?! An intruder ALARM?! Like I said, we have a great number of alarms which go off frequently but never have I had to deal with this. I felt a lot like Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone (Yes, I know I just dated myself).


I might also mention that this July has been one of the hottest on record here in PEI and that air conditioning is not common. So the interior of my apartment has been so hot and humid that on occasion, moisture actually runs down the walls! As a result, at the sound of the alarm, I fall out of bed wearing nothing but short shorts and a tiny tank. Since I have not yet had to deal with such a situation, I am not prepared for what comes next. I looked out the window to find that the fence gate was still closed and there were no unidentified cars in the parking lot. I think to myself, "Well, I will need some shoes in case I need to run away from someone and I will need my cell phone in case I need to call for help". So I put on my running shoes, pick up my cell and walk out into the completely pitch black facility. As I call out to see if anyone is present, I cannot hear anything over the sound of the alarm. I made my way to the security panel to turn the alarm off and turn on some lights.

As I walk towards the main door looking for evidence of a break in, I hear noise coming from downstairs where the fish are housed. Jumping to unrealistic conclusions, I automatically assume that Green Peace is here to "liberate" our fish and wonder what my next step should be. I start to head downstairs and someone pops their head in the door nearly scaring the crap out of me! Who is it? Why it's not Green Peace at all, there is no Stranger Danger, instead I find 2 of my colleagues from work. They both had the on-call pagers that night and were paged out for a freezer failure in the archive building. Without thinking, they drove straight to the far end of the property to the archive building, by passing the main facility. When they walked into the building, they set off the alarm and then had to run across the property to the main building to try to turn it off! All the while I am falling out of bed and searching for dirty hippies! Not only was I very surprised to see them, but I am pretty sure that they were surprised (if not feeling a little awkward) about finding me searching the building in running shoes, short shorts, a tank and with some serious bed-head!   

Royal Rumble: Doctor of Philosophy VS Doctor of Naturopathic Medicine

First, let me begin with a bit of background. As you may have realized, I am a skeptic. When I hear the term "Naturopathic Doctor" (ND) I often think of something simialr to the photo seen here on the right. Okay, okay, so I realize that is actually a photo of a drunk dirty hippy (may be sighted protesting outside our building) but for some reason I always equate Naturopaths with Hippies. Now I do recognize that Naturopaths do spend time pursuing post-secondary education to learn their trade and that they are often highly intelligent, successful people. However, the fact that individuals who advertize themselves as NDs are not necessarily graduates of an accredited naturopathic medical school and that the term ND is unprotected and may therefore be used by anyone, regardless of educational level makes me question their credentials.

Naturopathic medicine claims to help improve the body's ability to heal and maintain itself through the use of natural remedies. While I admit that medicinal herbs and nutritionally dense foods included in the diet can aid to improve overall health and that too many of us are heading to our doctor's office for a synthetic drug solution to our problem rather than simply putting down the fork and getting off the couch. I still back evidence-based medical science as the best option for treating serious aliments.

For example, a colleague of mine discussed how a member of her department was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. As a treatment option, this individual decided to start "juicing" all her foods and have 3x a week session where her blood was removed, infused with O2 and then returned to her body. Sorry honey, but science trumps your "natural remedy" in this case. Juice and O2 is not going to cure your cancer - a carefully designed plan under the supervision of your oncologist which likely includes the surgical removal of the tumor and/or chemotherapy & radiation treatments are more apt to be successful in battling the condition. 

I also find it somewhat suspicious that patients of NDs are always "prescribed" supplements/herbals/etc to heal them. Has no one else noticed how convenient it is that your ND also happens to runs a supplements/herbals/etc store where you can

purchase all your of "prescriptions"? Okay, okay, I am getting off topic. (Thanks to the Richard Dawkins Foundation Reason and Science for the little gem to the right) 


 Which brings me to my point! (Please excuse the rant and feel free to call me out on my opinion but simply stated, naturopathic medicine is not really my cup of tea.) Imagine my surprise when I was en route to a party in Charlottetown with a friend and I was advised that a number of the women who were going to be present at this party were NDs. I proceed to crack a joke about how I will have to hide my head in the sand all evening and that I will have to pretend that I work as waitress as to avoid an uncomfortable conversation about my chosen field.

All was going relatively well at this party until I head to the kitchen for a beer. At that time, the friend who invited me runs a pattern and intercepts me! She introduces me to one of the women as follows: "Hey, this is _______, she runs a naturopathic practice downtown. And this is Marcia, she's a scientist who makes "Frankenfish" for the aquaculture industry. You guys will have a lot to talk about!" End scene, she exits the room leaving me standing in front of a woman who is obviously disgusted with me. Let the Royal Rumble begin!

I tried to approach the conversation with caution as I have learned that there appears to be little support for aquaculture among many of the PEI natives. I explained that I am a salmonid geneticist, that my experience is mainly in aquaculture and that I am presently working for an aquaculture research company. What followed from there was a series of questions which to seemed be laced with some hostility.

First, I was asked what kind of research I am involved with. When started explaining the ideas of transgenics .... it just went downhill from there. "Why can't we just fish, why do you insist on farming animals that can be found in the wild?" I was asked. Well, you see, fish is a resource that is becoming rapidly depleted. "Why would you put that garbage in your body anyway? It's full of hormones and food dyes!!" I explained that exogenous hormones are not administered to fish destined for your plate and that the endogenous levels hormones are actually less than what is found in a serving of beef. Additionally, "food dyes" are not used, at least it's not what you think (picture "blue dye #2" as an ingredient listed on a juice container). I explained that Astaxanthin (a carotenoid) is used to add that red color to salmon filets, but that it is primarily produced through the fermentation of astaxanthin-producing microorganisms or via the cultivation of astaxanthin-producing algae. Microorganisms & algae are relatively benign, are they not? 

Then of course came the comments about how aquaculture is evil because it puts pressure on traditional fisheries through fish-meal production (fishing for small fishes like Herring to grind up and add to fish food for salmon). When I replied that the aquaculture industry is moving towards plant-based protein diets, I was asked, "Oh, so you think it's a good idea to take a carnivorous animal from the wild and feed it plants?!!" To which my response was, "How is it much different from what Vegans and Vegetarians do to themselves? How is it morally wrong for humans to eat meat, yet it is also wrong to replace some of the dietary protein in the diet of an agricultural animal with plant-based protein?" The response that I received was, "Well it just IS".

Moving on, the conversation turned to the addition of a single copy of the growth hormone gene to an Atlantic salmon to enhance growth. I was advised that this is also morally wrong. Actually, the quote was, "How dare we humans think that we can just manipulate animals to suit our needs!!" I paused for a second and replied, "Do you eat things like tomatoes, broccoli and milk?" To which the answer was indeed "yes". I continued with, "The source organisms for these products are drastically different from the agricultural varieties seen today. Since the origin of agriculture, both plants and animals have been altered though selective breeding and genetic manipulation to produce the food we now eat. So unless you are going out in the woods and hunting wild deer and picking native grasses, your food has been quote "altered" from its original form." 

"Well," was the response, "I, for one, will never support aquaculture". To which I grinned and replied, "Do you like Atlantic salmon?" The ND replied, "Oh yes, I love salmon. I recommend it to my clients for the nutritional omegas." I asked, "Do you realize that Atlantic salmon is an endangered species and that it is not fished commercially in North America? Did you know that ALL the Atlantic salmon that you have ever eaten has come from an aquaculture farm?" I was then advised that I don't know what I am talking about, that salmon isn't endangered and that I am lying to try and prove an ill-conceived point. 

So what did I learn from this experience? That I need to keep my profession a secret when out in public to avoid these awkward conversations. I also learned that everyone, including myself, have preconceived notions about various topics. While I feel as though I am open minded enough to engage in an informed discussion on a variety of topics (say, naturopathic medicine as an example), others seem to be so close minded and even when confronted with logic and reason they refuse to think critically. Apparently the time spent working towards my PhD was a waste - considering that "I don't know what I am talking about, that salmon isn't endangered and that I am lying to try and prove a point". 

 

The "Open Door" Policy

I think that many central and western Canadians think that when you travel to Eastern Canada, everyone you will meet is really friendly and looks like somewhat this:

Well apparently, that generalization is not too far fetched at least in terms of the friendly demeanor (minus the pipe and hat). Everyone I have met thus far has been very friendly. I have learned that there is a strict open-door policy, at least in the area in which I am currently residing. I have to admit, living in Southern Ontario has decreased my trust in humanity. I am definitely enjoying the freedom that comes with living in an area where people do not lock their doors (actually, I do not even have a key to my apartment!) and where I can leave the dogs outside when I leave and I do not have worry about them disappearing to the hands of thieves.

This was really taken to a new level when someone I didn't know and had never seen before walked up the stairs to my apartment and just opened the door. Didn't knock, didn't loudly pronounce their intentions, just walked right in the door and said, "Oh, so you're living here now are ya?". This individual, sat right down and wanted to have a chat (no doubt wanting to get the gossip on the new folk). The most interesting part was that this seemed normal and I think perhaps I should be prepared for more impromptu visitors.

Living with Labradors

Labrador retrievers are beautiful dogs, lovely companions and sometimes, exceedingly stupid. Let me stress the exceedingly stupid part. As you may know, labs come in 3 colors (yellow, chocolate and black). Bones, a black lab, was the first to join our family. Although he has exhibited some stupid behavior, nothing prepared us for what was to come.

Enter Riker, the chocolate lab. Everyone warned us about getting a chocolate lab and tried to steer us away from that color morph. Color in labs is controlled by 2 genes which do not act independent of each other and are therefore epistatic. I was convinced that these 2 genes could not possibly contribute to all the negative traits which are commonly attributed to chocolate labs. I always believed that chocolate labs were selected by crappy owners based on color alone (because they are indeed pretty) who were not interested in putting the time into training.

Now that I am the owner of a chocolate lab, I may have to eat my words. We used all the same training techniques and tools as we had with Bones. In fact, we thought that after practicing on dog #1 that we should be better prepared for dog #2. But there is a distinct difference in the energy level and attention span between our 2 labs, one which I cannot attribute to age difference alone. Riker just never stops moving. I feel like if he were a child in elementary school, we would be diagnosed with attention deficit disorder. He gets so excited for walks and play time that he pushes himself physically to the point of injury.

Case in point: After work this evening, I put the dogs in the car to drive the 4 km to Fortune Harbor Beach. Riker is still battling a soft tissue injury resulting in lameness from a hyper-extension of the right forelimb. As a result of this injury, the only exercise he is presently allowed is swimming. Both dogs were in the back of my hatchback car as we headed to the beach for a swim. I rolled down the windows as I always do because I know the dogs enjoy the breeze and it is impossible to cool off the car with the AC during such a short drive. As we approached the beach, Riker decides that he cannot wait for my slow ass driving and launches himself out the window. Exceeding stupid, right? I should mention that the window was only half rolled down, it does not go down all the way as a child-safety precaution. Well clearly the designer did not take into account the determination of my 65 lb retriever. Out the window he goes, touches down very roughly and takes off running for the beach. When I caught up with him, I found that he had road rash on his chin from the impact!

Some of my colleagues at work seem a little surprised by the fact that I try to keep the fence closed whenever the dogs are outside. I think that the foolishness exhibited by Riker this evening certainly suggests that if the fence were left open, it would not be long before Riker became a road pancake. Although he infuriates me, I am not ready to part with him just yet.

Living AT WORK!

I got lucky. Just as I was in need of finding a new place to live, the apartment that is attached to the building where I work became available. Interestingly, I now have the shortest commute ever, I just open my door and VOILA! Having an apartment to myself once again does have its advantages, however, as part of the exchange I am required to be on call for fish related emergencies. A fair trade.

Although I have the apartment to myself, I do have to share the property with my coworkers. Today for example, I learned a valuable lesson - NEVER leave the property without your keys. I crossed the road to take the dogs to the beach for a swim after work. The last person who left the building decided to close the gate. This is not unusual as we have a 8 ft high fence around the entire property to keep the dirty hippies out. The gate is left unlocked during the day (unless there is a scheduled protest by the local activists), especially when I am on site. For whatever reason, today my colleague decided to lock the gate when he left.

As I returned to the property after exercising the dogs, not only did I find the gate to be locked but as well, everyone had left for the day. I tried to slide myself under the small gap between the gate and the driveway without any success. Because I couldn't go under, I knew that the only way in was to go OVER! At first, I attempted to climb the gate itself as there is no barbed wire on the top of that section. As soon as I started my ascent, the gate made sounds of protest and did not want to support my body weight. My last option was to go over the fence topped with wire.

Let me remind you the fence is 8 ft tall. I made the climb to the top with relative ease, but once there things became a little dicey. after swinging my right leg over the fence top, I had to straddle the fence as to not sit directly on the jagged wire. I couldn't go anywhere until I readjusted my hand position to swing the left leg over and go down the other side. Try as I might, I could not find a place for my left hand to rest where no barbs were present. Finally, my strength gave out and I came down hard with my left hamstring landing right on the barbs. Frustrated and spewing profanity, I tried to dislodge my leg which was bleeding at this point. The next thing I know, I lose my balance, fall to the interior of the fence and end up getting caught by the pants on the barbs. Picture it - I am now hanging on a chain link fence, 8 ft off the ground by the ass of my pants, bleeding profusely. The only way down was to reach back and tear the material that was caught up right off the ass of my pants which sent me plummeting back to Earth.

It didn't make it any better that the entire time, both my labs were jumping and barking at me from the other side of the fence. I can only imagine what was running through their heads witnessing this shit show!

Challenges with apartment hunting when you don't "know someone who knows someone"

When I first moved to this province, I had to find a place to live without having the benefit of visiting in advance. So my first attempt was in a town called Montague, population ~5000. There are very few apartments for rent in this area and even fewer which do not require a 12 month lease, so I settled for the only one which did not have a lease. This was mistake #1!


When I arrived in Montague after a 20 hour drive, I pulled up to this address on Queen's Extension Road and was so terrified by the neighborhood that I nearly got back in my car to return to Guelph. Those of you who live in Guelph will recognize the name "Willow Road" and will understand the comparison. I soon found out that I had selected an apartment in the "low-income housing" area and that all the people in my building were unemployed alcoholics.

 Not to mention the house across the street comprised of a family of drug dealers. Twice, in the first week I came home from work to find the RCMP parked outside my building dealing with various alcohol and drug related issues. What I discovered inside my building was even more exciting! Uncashed welfare checks, burn spoons and drug paraphernalia littered the uncleaned apartment upon my arrival. Within minutes, I already knew that I had to find somewhere else to live!

After a few weeks, I started to get to know some locals so I was able to search around for some leads on a place to live. It was suggested that I rent a room from "a friend of a friend" so I took the opportunity to leave the Montague's version of Willow Road. I now had a great place to live, with a beautiful view and neighborhood in which I could actually go outside.

There was only one problem with my new accommodations - the landlord/roommate kind of went a little nutty. In one week, I came home to find some cheating going on, which lead to a bit of a domestic followed by some binge drinking which turned into theft. Therefore, once again, I was looking for new accommodations.

The tales of a non-native living on Prince Edward Island

As native New Brunswicker who spent the last 5 years living in Southern Ontario, I have been taught a few interesting lessons since moving to PEI this past February. Regardless of where I live, I seem to have this uncanny knack to be followed by unusual and/or peculiar occurrences. As suggested by some of my Ontario friends, I have decided to start a blog to share some of my experiences of East Coast living.