My friend Doug

The thing I find most annoying about life is how often people leave it. My friend Louis, my friend Rudy, and now my friend Doug, who died very suddenly last weekend, and unfortunately before he could eat Thanksgiving dinner. It is usual to talk about how wonderful people are after they die. But I am here to tell you there were a lot of annoying things about my friend Doug.

He was a dog lover.

Of course most of you know I do not care for dogs so much. Especially those that bite me (which several have on occasion – but only if I was doing something to provoke them, like riding a bicycle). But Doug had a big thing for dogs. And not just dogs, we are talking dogs that no one else would take in. Like a Rottweiler that looked like it belonged with the Hell’s Angels and acted like it was one of Charlie’s Angels. Or the other mutts of dubious origin that floated out of the flood in New Orleans and ended up bewildered on the shores of Six Mile Lake. No dog was safe from adoption.

He was very tall.

Doug was very, very tall. This was extremely annoying to those of us who are less than tall. My neck is very sore because of having to look up all the time. I think that was very inconsiderate of him, although maybe I can forgive him because he has a son who is a massage therapist. Wait a minute – is this an evil plot?

He was not a fashion plate.

Actually, that statement is untrue. Doug was a fashion plate, however his plate was made around 1965. Or maybe at most, 1975. I am not quite sure. I don’t think Doug invented the “full Nelson” but he certainly was a poster boy for the chambray shirt with major denim accents. Doug is the only person I know who could rock the leather cowboy hat. And I am sure he is the last one.

He liked winter.

How annoying is that? He kept his water line heated and would delight in coming up to the cottage in the winter. That’s so he could ride his snowmobile (oh sorry, sled) with Donna riding shotgun on the back. And this was supposed to be fun. In the wind. In the cold. Just so he could get every last bit of enjoyment out of the cottage. Clearly delusional.

He liked girly drinks.

You would not think that Doug would drink things involving berries, flavoured vodka, or other ingredients some might think less than manly. But no. Doug would fire up the (very manly) blender contraption that would spew out all manner of fruity alcoholic beverages that would be consumed with appropriate moderation (which is to say, not much moderation) on the deck when the sun was over the yard arm.

May there be a tiki hut and lots of mangos wherever you may be. RIP Doug.

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