One White Dog to Rule Them All

No, Kiero didn't take part in the San Bruno Chihuahua race, but she's sitting pretty now that she's back to being the only white dog at Casa Madison. I took the Other White Dog back to his mom and dad yesterday. While going back and forth through the Peace Arch border crossing, I was reminded why I could never boost my income by taking a side job as a drug runner. I get so panicked and anxious when confronted with any kind of authority that I must look guilty even when I haven't done anything! Perfect example:

Last summer I packed a cooler with snacks to take with me on a little road trip. At customs, the uniformed border inspector had me so nervous that I declared every single thing I had in the car, from dog food to the sandwiches I had packed. He rolled his eyes and directed me inside for inspection, clearly annoyed that I was taking his "Do you have any food or veggies to declare?" question a little too literally.

When I got inside, the customs counter guy didn't even get up from his desk. I, wide-eyed, told him that I had sandwich meat (!) that needed to be inspected. Without glancing up from his newspaper, he asked from which country the meat was a product.

"Ummmmm, well sir...I bought it in Canada." *wince*

"Look on the package."

"Ohhhhhhh. PRODUCT OF THE USA. Yay!"

Still not lifting his head, he gave me the little wave and off I went.



Despite my sparkling history with law enforcement (I've never even had a speeding ticket) and a valid passport, I still panic when I have to go through customs. Now that I'm living so close to the border, hopefully my frequent trips between Washington and BC will ease my nerves a little. I'd really hate to go all Babel just because I forgot to declare a six pack of Canadian beer in the trunk.

A pint of Grasshopper with lemon is lovely this time of year, btw.