Author: Jim Hagarty

I watched the kids dive into the water off the dock for almost an hour. And the big black old shepherd-border collie cross had a great time jumping in after them. Koda (short for Killer Old Dog Attack) loves the water, especially the splash created by the swimmers. From my vantage point, it appeared as though the dog was jumping beside the divers when they left the dock.

So eventually, I thought I’d invite Koda to jump in beside me. I called him over and jumped in. As the water closed over my head, so did something else: a 70-pound dog. Bingo! Right on my wet noggin landed pooch and almost immediately I felt the pain.

But something funny happened as I stumbled my way out of the water. Koda was busy watching the other swimmers but when he saw me leaving the lake he came over for a few seconds to check me out. It was as though he wanted to make sure I was okay.

The nine-hour trip home from our friends’ cottage was a long one as I felt every bump and swerve in the road. I had a mild case of whiplash following a car accident years ago; this is what this felt like.

Today, however, neck and feelings are on the mend. Nevertheless, I am considering a lawsuit against the dog but my family says it was all my fault. Koda wasn’t jumping in beside the divers but right on them. The only reason they got away unharmed was they were diving in and swimming away quickly and not jumping in and staying in one place. I disagree and will say so in my affidavit.

My bucket list isn’t a long and complicated one. A couple of entries involve Sandra Bullock, a Rolls Royce and a credit card with no limit. But nowhere on there is having my head jumped on by a dog in a lake.

©2012 Jim Hagarty

I take seven pills a day for various doctor-detected ailments.

One pill is to control my handsomosity as extreme good looks can be dangerous even on an innocent stroll through the mall. I often emerge from my favourite household goods store with my face covered in lipstick, liberally applied by amorous women

Another keeps my geniosity under control. This is necessary to keep my ability to outsmart people, even myself, in check.

A third pill tempers my virtuosity as I am too good to be believed. I’m a Ten Commandments commander.

A fourth pill manages my inventivosity. The others curtail my intelligensity, my profitablosity and my bullshitosity. That last pill, I’m afraid, is not working very well lately.

I need a new pill to counter the effects of my over medicating family physician. That’s right. I am suffering from a very bad case of doctorosity.

©2015 Jim Hagarty

The keys to a successful marriage, I am here to tell you, are these: Balance and Priorities.

A few weeks ago, our Internet router sputtered. It had to be restarted once a day, sometimes more. It seemed to be slowing down.

I rushed out to the store and bought a new one for just under $200. Life is good again. The digitized world is at my fingertips once more.

Last year, our vacuum cleaner powerhead quit. Without it, attempts to vacuum the carpets were very sad.

Months went by.

One day, I went into a second-hand store and there it was. A beautiful, bagless upright. Perfect. Even better was the price: $7.

Computer network: $200. Housecleaning: $7.

A good marriage is also a matter of math. Forward any further questions you might have to my lawyer.

©2016 Jim Hagarty

I read too much news and it’s ruining my life.

I am not talking about political news though that does tend to send me around the bend. Instead, the stories that are doing me in are the ones about people who find incredible things hidden in their homes. Being ever in search of riches beyond imagining as I am well aware that money most certainly can buy happiness, I have practically torn our little blue shack apart, board by board, drywall sheet by ceramic tile, to find something, anything, that would fill up my bank account.

One couple, for example, found a 50-year-old safe hidden in their kitchen wall. What was inside? $51,080, mostly in $100 notes.

A California couple spotted a strange area underneath their bathroom vanity. After pushing on the space, they found tons of pieces of vintage jewelry from Mexico.

An unsigned Van Gogh painting was surprisingly found in the attic of a Norwegian home. I did crawl up in our attic and found some finger paint sketches our kids did in kindergarten and while they are treasures for their parents, they are no Van Goghs.

Construction workers found $500,000 in cash underneath a house and that set off an ugly dispute over who should get the money: Them or the owners of the home. If that happened to me, I would give each of the workers $10 and send them on their way.

An old Action Comics book was found after a wall was demolished in a family’s home. It sold at auction for $175,000.

A Utah man found $45,000 in his house and then he tracked down the rightful owner and returned it. I would, of course, have given the rightful owner $10, maybe 20.

In one home, a figurine of a former Russian czar was found and then auctioned for five million dollars. The best I can do are some figurines of long-retired hockey players but not even the hockey players want them.

One couple found some archaeological treasures buried under their house and the treasures were over 2,000 years old. So far, all I’ve found in our basement is a spider’s nest, and it isn’t that old, and spiders generally sell for a dime a dozen, if you can sell them at all.

It just goes on and on. In a secret room of one person’s home, a box with ammunition, a defused grenade, and thousands of pennies were found.

Another homeowner found an entire servants’ kitchen in the basement of a property that had been in their family for years. I can kind of relate to that. I moved into our house when I was still single and not being a cook, two years went by before I discovered the house had a kitchen.

One couple found a medieval well underneath the floor of their living room. An old briefcase was unearthed inside someone else’s house. It contained money from all over the world, silver, and other treasures. One family discovered an ancient chapel space under their home.

But I think I might just slow down on ripping our house apart after reading that homeowners found thousands of snakes living in the walls of their Idaho house.

Either that, or I will cancel my plans to move to Idaho.

©2023 Jim Hagarty

This morning’s headline: Yogurt-eating mice found to have larger testicles.

A few questions: Who left the yogurt out and then who first noticed a mouse run by and commented, “Look at the set on that guy. Holy mackerel!”

To liven up the story, these are elderly mice. So, these old guys are chowing down on yogurt and literally, growing a pair.

Which begs one more query: When you see a mouse, can you tell its age immediately? Does an old one have grey hair, bald patches and a belly? Does it have trouble hearing the cat sneak up on it?

This is all too much for me except for the uncomfortable feeling that my taxes are paying somebody to figure all this out. Somebody who spends his days running along behind old yogurt-eating mice to see how much their balls are growing.

Oh well, back to my yogurt.

My 18-year-old cat Mario lost his twin brother Luigi a while back and he’s been affected in various ways by the loss. He developed an eating disorder, for one thing, and needs a lot more human attention than he ever wanted before.

Mario and Luigi, over their long lives together, never really put it together that they were two cats and not one. When you’d walk by a comfy chair where they were sleeping, you’d be seeing what could only be described as a pile o’ cat. Legs, tails, ears sticking out all over. It was hard to see where one animal started and the other ended.

So, in some ways, I have been an oversized Luigi since that great guy left this world. My claws aren’t as sharp and my whiskers not as long and Luigi didn’t wear glasses, but Mario seems to think I make an alright substitute. Several times a day, and even in the middle of the night sometimes, Mario and I snuggle in the same comfy chair he and his brother shared so many naps in.

And Mario loves just about anything I decide to do with his body but his favourite thing is to have his jawline pressed against my knuckles. There doesn’t seem to be any point where I can push too hard on that area of his face. In fact, he does a major part of the pressing.

In a way, it takes me back to my days in a one-room country schoolhouse where one of my classmates used to press his knuckles against my jawline on a pretty regular basis. And like Mario, I loved it. But to make things more fun, I would often try to run away when I saw Billy heading my way and hide behind a tree or a bush, but he was very determined and good at finding me and my “four eyes.” Billy was more mini bulldozer than boy and he liked to make my life brighter every day.

But there is a benefit to everything we experience in life and my frequent attempts to run away from Billy led me to take up track and field when I got to high school, and left the bulldozer behind. I would imagine Billy was gaining on me and I’d quicken my pace. However, I soon discovered that I was not the speediest runner in the world which explained how Billy could always catch me. So I switched to cross country running and was actually kind of good at that as there were lots of trees, creeks and bushes to run around even if I wasn’t being chased.

After a good snuggle that can last upwards of 20 minutes or so, Mario jumps down from my lap and crawls under a comfy chair with a big blanket over it which gives him total privacy. And he goes to sleep. I can’t read the mind of a cat, but my guess is, he misses Luigi.

As for me, it might sound strange, but I don’t miss Billy at all.

©2022 Jim Hagarty

I am voting for the Rhinoceros party in the next federal election in Canada for various reasons. First off, unlike the other parties, they have a 1,000-year plan and I admire people who look ahead. And they have history on their side. They have been around since 1963.

Rhinoceronians have smart, sensible ideas. If elected, they will move Canada’s capital from Ottawa to Kapuskasing because it is the geographical centre point of the nation. They will privatize Canada’s armed forces and nationalize Tim Hortons. They lean Marxist-Lennonist in their approach (Groucho Marx and John Lennon).

Some members of the party favour the return of capital punishment with one leader saying, “If it was good enough for my grandfather, it’s good enough for me.”

One ambitious plan the party has had was to tow Antarctica to the Arctic Circle. This would give Canada a monopoly on cold temperatures and a big advantage if a Cold War ever breaks out again.

During an election campaign in 1984, the party planned to eliminate big businesses and allow only small businesses which employ less than one worker.

Other smart ideas were to repeal the law of gravity, lower the boiling point of water, make Illiteracy the third official language of Canada and tear down the Rocky Mountains so Albertans could see the B.C. sunsets.

They would also abolish the environment because it takes up too much space and is too hard to keep clean. And they would end crime by abolishing all laws.

Other neat ideas include making the two-lane Trans Canada Highway a one-way road. And if elected, they would count the Thousand Islands to see if the Americans have stolen any.

These are my people

©2015 Jim Hagarty

I went to bed feeling down last night and I am still not my usual bubbly self today.

Last evening, I hauled two big trash cans to the street for pickup this morning and inside one of those cans was a treasure I was finally persuaded to part with. That exalted item was a brand new bike helmet that I bought and its only sin was that it was left outside. Rain, snow, hurricanes – it had seen it all.

Still, it looked as good as the day I bought it. It was a big, round, white affair, not unlike the kind astronauts wear. It had a variety of straps and velcro pads and was about the ultimate in modern head protection. Alas, however, maybe because I don’t have a modern head, I never wore it. Still it was not something I was ready to part with but I was outvoted at a Summit Meeting of the Family Council, so into the garbage it went.

A couple of times during the night, I resisted going out to the street, bringing my helmet back in and hiding it in the shed. However, I live in fear of sanctions from the Family Council.

Morning came, and it was gone.

Those heartless individuals lined up against me at the Summit Meeting made the point that I don’t actually own a bike. They argued that not having a bike pretty much cancelled the need to have a bike helmet. But I couldn’t follow their reasoning.

This afternoon I sat staring at the place the helmet used to sit, and got a bit emotional.

“Goodbye, old friend,” I whispered. “I tried to save you.”

Like always, I save my emotions for the important things.

©2021 Jim Hagarty

An Australian man has been hailed a “hero” after repeatedly punching a shark until it released his wife’s leg.

And while I do agree that punching a 10-foot-long, great white shark to save his wife is a pretty gutsy thing to do, lesser known heroes such as I go unheralded and that has me sort of steamed.

My wife and I have swam together in many bodies of water over the years including the Atlantic Ocean, and my fearsome demeanour all by itself has kept every shark in the area from even approaching us, let alone attacking. Yes, I did no punching but punching isn’t needed when the sharks are too intimidated to come near.

But the puncher can have all the glory if he needs it. Personally, I like to keep a low profile.

Not to brag, but we have also strolled through forests without once having been attacked by wolves, cougars, coyotes, wild dogs, bobcats, snakes and bears. Never been bitten by a wolverine, a mongoose or a wildebeest. However, I did have a close encounter with a fearsome wild turkey in my backyard this summer but after taking one look at me as I was running full speed into the garage, he took off.

When the shark puncher can successfully deal with a wild turkey in his yard, I will be suitably impressed.

Australia has one of the world’s highest incidences of shark attacks and there have been five fatal ones in the country so far this year.

Another reason I think I deserve at least a little bit of credit for not moving to Australia and having no plans to ever do so.

©2020 Jim Hagarty

Some anonymous guy phoned our house last week with a short announcement, and then hung up.

“You’re an idiot,” said the caller. And that was that.

Except it wasn’t that. The character assessment conveyed by our telephone hero got me wondering whether or not I am, in fact, an idiot.

So, I signed up for a $1,000 online 12-week course entitled, “How to Identify an Idiot.”

Right off the bat, when taking my first lesson, I was a little discouraged to read that anyone who would pay $1,000 for an Internet course to confirm whether or not he is an idiot, is, in fact, an idiot.

But then I felt a little better when the presenter went on to describe how almost all human beings are idiots from time to time. With most people, however, their idiotic moments are brief and few. A true idiot, however, carries his idiocy with him all day long wherever he goes.

Our assignment for this week is to be on the lookout for idiots in our midst and having seen one, bring a description of that person to the next session.

It didn’t take long for me to recognize my first suspect. I was going through the drivethrough at a fast-food restaurant but before I could get to the window, a 40s-something man got out of his parked car and walked up to the window. He had in his hand the largest container for pop ever made and he started arguing with the attendant behind the window.

He appeared to want a refill and he kept trying to hand the young woman his huge cup. She would not take it. It seemed as though this guy thought this was about the biggest outrage anyone had ever experienced. He flailed his arms and shrugged his shoulders, obviously mocking the woman behind the glass.

But, despite being a jerk, he sort of got his way, as he seemed to have been instructed to head into the restaurant which he did.

I am expecting a solid A in class next week for my eagle eye spotting of this idiot.

But a look at the course description suggests there is more to this offering than I at first thought.

Besides exploring the whole concept of idiocy, in future classes we will be looking at many first cousins of the idiot such as the moron, the lamebrain, the fool, and the dumbass.

I am looking forward to learning all about the dumbass, as apparently it is possible to be a dumbass and a smartass at the same time. I have no idea how that could ever be explained. But a picture of Texas Senator Ted Cruz accompanies this topic heading so maybe there is a hint in that.

I am not sure how learning all there is to know about idiocy will help prepare me for the rest of my life, but my hope is, if that guy who told me I’m an idiot ever calls again, I will be able to offer him a devastating retort such as …

“I know you are but what am I?”

My big worry is that only an idiot would not be able to explain what that saying means.

I hope you know what it means because I don’t and never have.

©2020 Jim Hagarty