Month: January 2026

The dog park was supposed to be freedom.

A large fenced area.
No leash.
Space to run.
Dogs everywhere.

Toby was finally free to play.

Except Toby did not play like other dogs.

While everyone else ran, wrestled, and chased balls, Toby walked. He sniffed. He observed. He analyzed. He moved slowly, like royalty inspecting its domain. He did not waste energy. He did not engage in nonsense. He was there to assess.

Everything was calm.
Everything was peaceful.

And then it happened.

A delivery car drove by.

Not just any delivery car.
A red Benny & Co rotisserie chicken delivery car.
With the iconic chicken comb sitting proudly on top of the roof.

The audacity.

Somewhere deep inside Toby’s soul, something snapped.

How dare they.
How dare they transport chicken.
And how dare it not be for him.

In that exact moment, Toby abandoned all dignity.

He launched himself across the dog park like a man on a mission. Barking aggressively at the moving car, running full speed along the fence line, completely convinced that if he barked hard enough, the chicken would surrender itself.

Thank God the fences were tall.
And solid.
And long.

The delivery driver slowed down, clearly confused. One moment delivering chicken, the next being chased by an enraged black poodle screaming accusations through metal fencing.

People at the dog park stopped.
Dogs paused mid play.
Humans laughed.
Some looked worried.

The driver looked back, trying to understand why a poodle was yelling at his vehicle with such conviction.

Toby did not care.

Bark bark.
Bak bak.
Honestly, it was unclear what language he was speaking.

But the message was obvious.

“I want my chicken.”

He chased that car as far as the fence allowed. When it finally disappeared from view, Toby stopped abruptly, stood still, and stared at the empty road with deep disappointment.

He had failed.

No chicken.
No justice.
Only betrayal.

Then, as if nothing had happened, Toby turned around, sniffed the grass, and resumed his slow royal walk through the park.

Mission attempted.
Standards upheld.

Classic Toby.
Free to play.
Chose chaos instead.

At some point, Toby decided he had a job.

We lived in a condo facing the Mont Saint Hilaire train station. It was a busy street. Trains passing. Cars stopping. People walking. Dogs being walked. Bikes rushing by. For a smart poodle with an eye for detail, it was endlessly fascinating.

Being on the first floor gave him the perfect vantage point. High enough to see everything. Low enough to be seen.

One afternoon, Stephanie noticed something unusual.
Toby was quiet.

No pacing.
No barking.
No dramatic sighs.

That alone was suspicious.

She stepped out onto the balcony to see what he was up to.

And there he was.

Toby had climbed onto the balcony chair and carefully positioned himself on the armrest. Not awkwardly. Not halfway. Perfectly. Sitting upright like a child who had been told to sit nicely and wait.

Back straight.
Paws placed neatly in front of him.
Eyes forward.

He looked serious. Focused. Almost professional.

Stephanie stood there for a moment, trying to understand what she was witnessing. Then she started laughing. The kind of laughter that takes over completely because the image in front of you makes no sense and all the sense at the same time.

She called me over.
I looked.
And immediately lost it.

There was our poodle, perched on the armrest like a tiny security guard, quietly overseeing the neighbourhood.

From his elevated command post, Toby watched everything below. Dogs walking by were carefully assessed. Humans passing through were observed. Sometimes he would let out a soft whine. Sometimes a perfectly timed bark. Just enough to remind everyone that yes, someone was watching.

People below would slow down.
They would look around.
Then they would look up.

And there he was.

A black poodle sitting politely on a balcony chair arm, staring down with calm judgment. Walkers would laugh. Some would wave. Some would stop and take a second look, clearly trying to process what they were seeing.

Toby accepted the attention without moving.
This was his post.

Stephanie grabbed her phone and snapped the picture at exactly the right moment. Perfect posture. Perfect timing. A poodle fully committed to his role.

The funniest part was how long he stayed there. He did not sprawl. He did not shift. He did not get distracted. He sat. He watched. He supervised.

Classic Toby.
Head of balcony security.
Always on duty.