Tag: pugs

  • Paddle & Chill at Chestermere Lake

    Paddle & Chill at Chestermere Lake

    Christine standing on a paddle board at Chestermere lake. With houses in the background and a blue sky.

    Accessible Fun Just Outside Calgary

    If you’re near Calgary and craving a paddleboarding adventure that won’t break your back getting to the water, Chestermere Lake is a fantastic spot to check out. It has a surprisingly accessible setup that makes it a great choice for folks dealing with mobility challenges — or anyone who just appreciates easy access.

    Parking & Access at Sunset Beach
    One of the biggest perks here is the close parking. When you’re carrying paddleboards, gear, or maybe even on crutches (hello, me), having a short walk to the water is a lifesaver. Bonus: there are a few different spots where you can launch, giving you options depending on how the wind or crowds are. Read about that down below.

    The Launch & The Hill at Sunset Beach
    Yes, there’s a hill to get down to the water. It’s manageable, though, and I managed just fine on crutches. You’ll also find stairs at the launch, which make it easier to get on and off your board without slipping or falling over.

    Nature & Wildlife
    If you love birds (hi Matt), this is your spot. There are plenty of ducks, so don’t be surprised if you’re sharing your space with some feathered friends. Sometimes you can even catch glimpses of fish in the water — I swear they’re there if you squint hard enough! One touched my foot one time, didn’t love that..

    Chestermere lake with a family of ducks floating in the water, along with the stairs that lead you down into the water.
    Family of Ducks at the lake, along with the stairs that lead into the water

    Safety First
    Always <gear up> before heading out — whistle, life jacket, water bottle, and any other safety essentials you need. Don’t skip it, it matters. When you’re done: Rinse your board. Its just not about keeping it clean – It stops invasives species from hitching a ride and helps your board last longer. The future will thank you.

    The Cop Story
    Here’s a funny one: I once got “pulled over” while paddling! No, not for speeding on the water, but because a cop wanted to chat. At first, we didn’t realize they were talking to us, so we just kept paddling away. When we finally figured it out, I was balancing like crazy to stop mid-paddle without tipping over. We all ended up laughing—especially the cop, who was super friendly. Definitely one of my most memorable paddling adventures!

    Paddle boards resting on the grass beside the boat launch at Chestermere lake.
    Boat launch not in use anymore at Anniversary Beach.

    Nearby Amenities
    There’s a local restaurant with a nice view — I haven’t been there yet, but it’s on my bucket list. You’ll also find a few shops close by, along with Tim Hortons, A&W, and other fast-food joints. Plus, there’s a grocery store just a short distance away, making it easy to grab what you need before or after your paddling session. The lake itself has boaters too, but don’t worry — they have to slow down in certain areas to keep paddlers like us safe and dry.

    A Little Challenge
    There’s a low bridge you’ve got to go under, which means if you’re standing, maneuver to sitting to get through. Some people love it, as it adds to the adventure vibes. Others? Hard pass. If its not your thing, no worries – the lake is big enough you can completely just stay on one side.

    A bridge over the water that you can paddle under when on the late. There is a car about to cross the bridge.

    And if you skip it – i believe its just water under the bridge 🤔

    Final Thoughts
    Chestermere Lake is a gem for accessible outdoor fun. Whether you want to paddle, watch nature, or just soak up the calm, it’s a spot worth visiting. Easy parking, helpful launch spots, friendly locals, and a beautiful lake just outside the city — what more could you want?

    As mentioned above, there are four public access points to the lake: The Cove, Anniversary Park, Sunset Beach, and John Peake Memorial Park. All four locations have accessible water entry points.

    The Cove has a natural beach entrance, perfect for an easy walk-in.

    Anniversary Park features gradual steps leading into the water, with more space between steps than traditional stairs. It also has a dedicated boat launch that’s closed to motorized boats, making it a safe and relaxed spot for paddle boarding or kayaking.

    Sunset Beach offers steps into the water as well as two floating docks, making it easy to launch paddle boards or simply wade in gradually.

    John Peake Memorial Park includes a floating dock with a dedicated kayak launch and is the main boat launch area, with two ramps nearby. Swimming isn’t permitted here, but it’s perfect for launching boats and kayaks.

    Bentley the pug sleeping on the paddle board at Chestermere lake. He is wearing a yellow life jacket and is resting his head on a red life jacket.

  • Things I Wish Hotels Knew About Neurodivergent Guests

    Things I Wish Hotels Knew About Neurodivergent Guests

    (AKA: How to Not Accidentally Torture Us with Your Lighting Choices)

    I’ve stayed in dozens of hotels. Some felt like cozy little havens. Others? Like a sensory escape room designed by Satan’s interior decorator. Most are somewhere in the middle — well-meaning, but totally unaware of how jarring the experience can be for neurodivergent folks.

    So here’s a letter (with some helpful sass) to every hotel that wants to do better… but doesn’t quite know how.


    The Basics Matter More Than You Think

    Overhead lights are the devil’s spotlight
    Please. We beg. Lamps. Dimmable switches. Warm bulbs. That harsh, flickering overhead light makes us feel like we’re about to be interrogated on a crime drama — and we’re not even guilty (except maybe of hoarding snacks).

    Perfume is not ambiance. It’s attack.
    Your lobby doesn’t need to smell like a tropical fruit funeral. Scented sprays, plug-ins, and overly fragrant cleaners are instant migraine fuel. If a room smells like “trying to cover something up,” I’m already plotting my exit.

    Surprise knocks = meltdown speedrun
    Want me to cry in the bathroom? Knock unexpectedly. Better yet, let me opt out of housekeeping. Or schedule things like maintenance with a little warning so I’m not panicking in a towel.

    Simple info is useful — and even better when it’s digital.
    We love a good online info sheet we can zoom in on. Big font, clear bullet points, and easy-to-read layout makes a huge difference. It’s eco-friendly and accessible — screen readers can handle it, and our brains can too.


    Let us pick our room location (or at least the general area).
    Give us the option to choose a quieter zone — away from elevators, vending machines, bars, and ice machines that sound like Thor having a bad day. Avoiding sensory overload starts with picking the right spot to sleep.

    Let us know what to expect before we get there.
    Surprises are not our love language. Predictability is. Clear info online about lighting, noise levels, scent policies, and what the rooms actually look like helps us plan and feel safe. Bonus points for virtual tours or honest photo galleries.

    Ask first, assume nothing
    Not every neurodivergent person has the same needs — but many of us would love if you just asked what might make our stay more comfortable. It’s not awkward. It’s thoughtful. And it helps avoid me dragging a mattress into the bathtub at 2AM because it’s the only quiet place.


    Imagine This Filter on Your Booking Site:

    ✔️ Quiet room options
    ✔️ Dimmable lighting
    ✔️ Scent-free room request
    ✔️ Blackout curtains
    ✔️ Fridge or microwave for safe foods
    ✔️ Soft bedding options
    ✔️ Lamp lighting instead of ceiling lasers

    Hotels that offer this? I’d book faster than my dog spots a dropped French fry. Which is VERY FAST.


    The Bottom Line:

    We’re not picky. We’re just trying to stay regulated in a world built for people who don’t get overwhelmed by invisible buzzes, blinking lights, or hotel rooms that smell like “aggressively lemon-scented panic.”

    Letting us rest, regulate, and not melt into a stress puddle? That’s hospitality magic.

    When neurodivergent folks feel safe and respected, we become the most loyal guests you’ll ever have. We’ll write reviews. We’ll recommend you. We’ll mentally adopt your front desk clerk as our new aunt.

    So, let’s build a world where we don’t have to pack half our house just to feel okay in a hotel room.

  • If Dogs Could Have Autism, He Definitely Would

    If Dogs Could Have Autism, He Definitely Would

    I say this with love and a face full of fur—if dogs could be autistic, mine 100% would qualify.
    Look, I’m not saying Bentley has a diagnosis. But if the DSM ever dropped a Canine Edition, he’d ace the questionnaire, start a support group, and color-code the kibble. Let me explain.


    Social Skills? What Social Skills?

    Bentley greets other dogs like a socially confused freight train. No boundaries. No warm-up. Just straight-up nose in the butt like he’s scanning their DNA.

    If the other dog tries to leave, he takes it as an invitation. Tail wagging like a glitchy metronome, tongue flapping like he’s mid-presentation on “Why We Should Be Best Friends.”

    Subtlety? Never met her.

    People? Same thing. He doesn’t just say hi. He says, “I love you, here’s my body, here’s my whole life story, please never leave me, and also can I sniff your eyeballs?” It’s intense. We don’t do small talk here.

    Consent? Optional. Personal space? A myth. Sit down and he’s instantly on you like a weighted blanket with attachment issues.

    Routine? It’s a Lifestyle.
    Routine isn’t a suggestion in Bentley’s world. It’s sacred law.
    Change the feeding time? He acts like he’s never eaten before.

    Walk a different route? Existential crisis. Move the footstool? He’ll still try to jump on it like it’s there—then fall off, confused and betrayed.

    He has to spin three times before pooping. If he gets interrupted, we start over. And his blanket? It’s that one or NOTHING. No substitutions. Just dramatic sighs.

    Bentley eats at the same time, sleeps in the same spots, expects the same order of events. He’s basically a tiny, squishy chaos-avoider with four legs and a firm belief in “the schedule.”

    Sensory Drama? All Day, Every Day.
    Bentley is the poster pup for sensory sensitivities.

    Loud sounds? Panic. Crowds? Full shutdown. Vacuum?

    Immediate zoomies and an hour under the bed.

    He used to be sensitive to light, sounds, fabrics—you name it. Now that he’s older and going a little deaf and blind, he mostly just barks at what used to be upsetting, just in case.

    He spins in circles when excited, wipes his face obsessively, shakes things off constantly, and loses it over weird smells.

    He also finds huge comfort in deep pressure. If dog-safe weighted blankets existed, he’d live under three of them.

    And yes, he does try to sniff your eyeballs. I don’t know why. I’ve stopped asking.

    Special Interests & Hyperfocus
    Bentley’s not into hobbies. He’s got obsessions.

    McDonald’s fries? He knows the bag. The sound. The smell. Full meltdown if he doesn’t get his share.

    Green toys? Only green. Doesn’t matter that dogs supposedly can’t see color. Green is law.

    And guests? He gets so excited he forgets to eat, sleep, or blink. Then crashes into an emotional puddle of snorts and sighs.

    Social hangover, activated.

    He hyperfixates, burns out, and then recharges by hiding under blankets or carrying his 6th toy of the morning around like it holds his last brain cell.

    Masking? Kind of. He Lived With a Cat.
    Bentley never quite learned how to “dog.” He doesn’t play like other pups. Doesn’t follow dog social cues. Sometimes he just… stares at a wall or the corner of a room. It’s giving “I’m overstimulated and need a reset.”

    He even picked up cat behaviors after living with one—some kind of canine masking. He’s been trying to figure out how to belong for years, and honestly? Same.


    Final Diagnosis?

    If dogs could be autistic, Bentley would be proudly flying that neurodivergent flag—and probably trying to eat it.

    But here’s the thing: he’s not broken. He’s not “too much.” He’s just built different. A little spicy, a lot sensitive, and completely unforgettable.

    And in this house? That’s a badge of honour.

    Now if you’ll excuse me, he’s brought me a chewed-up green toy and is waiting for me to emotionally validate him.