Daria's Bitch

[March 22nd, 2006] It isn't every day I get a chance to sniff a woman's butt. But more on that later.

On March 9, Daria O'Neill (one of radio- and television-land's loveliest ladies) and I were hosts of "Boutiques Unleashed." Billed as a "human-canine fashion show" at Northeast Alberta Street's Acadian Ballroom, the event gave local garb and pet shops a chance to pimp out people and pooches of all sizes. It was all in the name of style—and DoveLewis Emergency Animal Hospital's Pet Loss Support Program.

But the trouble was, I needed to go to the hospital.

Sicker than a dog, I'd been battling a bout of pneumonia for weeks. On the day of the show, my illness got the best of me. My coughing was uncontrollable. My voice was gone. And I was breaking out in a sweat. My partner, Juan, didn't know whether to take me to the Acadian Ballroom or to the nearest ER.

But there was no way in hell I was going to miss this benefit—no matter how sick I was. That's because, a few years back, I was "sick" for an entirely different reason. It was in '02, right after our dear dog, Jade, had been put down. I had stopped eating and sleeping. As a gay man, my relationship with Jade, who was as exhausting as she was sweet, was the experience I'd had where I learned to love another living thing unconditionally. When she was gone, some of me went with her.

The only person, other than my partner, who got me through that time was Enid Traisman, who runs DoveLewis' Pet Loss Support Program.

That's why I was more than happy to dress up like a furry beast, put on a collar, crawl around on all fours and let Daria lead me around by my tail—even though I should've been back in bed. I wanted the eternally upbeat Enid to know how much it meant to me that someone understood how hard it was to lose my dog. And with five free pet-loss support meetings each month, Enid, a certified grief counselor, really knows a lot about loss.

I don't remember much about the fashion show itself. It was kind of a blur after I got off my knees and read my script. Thank god for Daria. Not only did she wear a completely appropriate ensemble—faux fur boots with a dress that revealed her best "assets"—she also picked up my slack (read: she pretty much did the whole show while I barked out a few croaky bons mots). OK, it was sort of embarrassing when Daria bent over and I sort of pretended to sniff her butt.

But everybody knows I'm a total dog. This show just confirmed it. Woof.