#ok. less yapping more writing finishing this today even if it kills me

[eightspringdays]

listening to House of Cards while writing this is so fucking funny because it may be the most sensual song of BTS but the lyrics are awfully depressing. so it's kinda what im doing.

a song about a relationship so fragile as a house of cards where neither of them wants to get it even if it's collapsing with them inside

[faceplant-ux]

Big Dog, Big City, Bad UX

Today I confirmed with the ophthalmologist (that’s an eye-disorder-doctor/surgeon) that my 7-year-old Bernese mutt, Astrid, would need surgery. A benign mass has been steadily growing on the rim of her eyelid for several months, and $proghub and I were referred to this specialist after the mass got one millimetre too bold. The most emotionally trying part of the process was not the steep cost, nor the fact that the mass was actually two masses, or what would evidently be a painful recovery period for Astrid in the cone-of-shame. It was getting to the drop-in clinic in the first place. 

Here were the parameters we were dealing with:

First, the ophthalmology clinic of choice received patients from 8 a.m. to 11 a.m. 

Second, we didn’t have a car. The TTC (subway system in Toronto) allows pets to travel on leash or in carriers during off-peak hours, defined as “before 6:30 am; 10 am to 3:30 pm; after 7pm”. Obviously it’s easier to bend this rule with a smaller dog in a travel crate. Astrid weighed 60 pounds.

Third, according to Google Maps, it would take me 50 minutes-1 hour to get to the clinic from home by transit. Based on previous rides on that very route, I knew delays and increased traffic would be likely.

Finally, taking an Uber/Lyft instead was estimated to be a 15 minute journey at a budget-friendly price of $18. 

Conclusion: For maximum sleep and minimum transit time, take a Lyft at 7:30 am, arrive at the clinic before 8 am, and expect to wait about 2 hours at most. Cool. 

In the past I had no issues riding in a Lyft with Astrid, so long as I called ahead to let them know I’d have a large dog with me. A driver had the right to decline the ride in the interest of comfort or cleanliness, but so far none of them had.

Except today. I called the first driver right away as soon as we were matched and they apologized profusely for not wanting to take the dog. No hard feelings. But then the driver hid out nearby anyway, and didn’t cancel the ride despite my calling him back asking him to do so. It was impossible for me to cancel the ride now that he had “arrived” and was “waiting”. He let the wait timer finish before cancelling the ride and driving off. Annoying; that was three minutes I had to wait before calling another ride.

The second driver agreed to take Astrid when I confirmed over the phone. Great! He arrived, saw her, and said he had misunderstood, and he couldn’t take her. And then again, didn’t cancel the ride right away waiting for the five minute timer to run out — thankfully he figured it out eventually after rolling down the window to ask if I could cancel it (again, I couldn’t), and cancelled after two minutes.

While writing this post I discovered that I was charged a $5.00 no-show fee for allegedly standing up the first driver, which I had to get refunded from Lyft in the form of credit. 

UX questions abound:

Why was it difficult for both drivers to cancel the ride in the Lyft app? 

In the case of the first driver, did they intentionally let the timer run to 0:00 in order to get a no-show cancellation fee out of me? I would have likely missed the fact that I had been charged a no-show fee.

Why does Lyft’s chat bot automatically issue the refund as Lyft credit rather than a credit card refund? I feel I could have gotten in touch with customer support to get the latter, but $5 was a trivial enough amount to not do so. Are there risks with giving the customer the choice of how they would like to receive their refund?

It was now 8:03 a.m. I called one of the local cab companies. They had always accepted large dogs; I even double-checked over the phone with the dispatcher! The driver arrived after the promised 5-10 minute wait. I herded Astrid into the car and heard the tail end of a conversation over the comm, “—listen if you aren’t comfortable and don’t want to have a pet say something, we’re here to help!” I pretended not to hear. The driver asked if I had a cover for the dog since the seats were vinyl. Um, no? He fetched a jacket from his trunk. “Someone forgot it, just put it under your dog.” Fine. 

It was a silent ride, except for the radio going off again: “How long is your fare?” "I’ll get back to you later,” my driver discreetly responded.

We got to the clinic and it was now nearly quarter to nine. I wiped off the back seats as best as I could and tossed the now furry, dusty jacket into the trunk. Astrid and I entered a packed clinic, the many waiting room chairs full of dogs and their owners. It was something to behold; at least half of the poor canines were wearing cones, and half of those coned canines had eye stitches. What was Astrid in for? I wondered.

The reception cheerfully informed me of the paperwork I had to fill, and as I felt my frayed nerves calming she added, “It’ll be a 3 to 4 hour wait.”

“OK, that’s fine!”, I said in my typical singsong. Yet inside:

I killed time by walking Astrid for about 2 hours. The only place that had set out a dog water bowl was the local cannabis shop. They invited Astrid inside and cooed over her eagerly. That experience alone made the morning much less crappy for me.

The cab ride I had taken reminded me of a time when $proghub was ushering Astrid over to dog boarding, and his cab driver hit another car. He blamed our dog for distracting him, despite her already having long finished her investigative sniffing.

You can provide for a large dog’s every need, but societal discrimination remains:

Finding an apartment that will accept your dog. Ontario law states that “no-pets” clauses are void (huzzah! 🙌), but that doesn’t stop landlords from putting them into leases or denying your application once they find out you have one. $proghub and I are moving to Montréal, and in Québec there isn’t an equivalent law, which means we have to search extra hard for a place that will accept Astrid. Many ads will say 1) no pets, 2) cats only, no dogs, or 3) cats and small dogs under 1x pounds accepted, no large dogs. This sucks because Astrid is non-destructive, quiet, and trained to do her business outside — she’ll even actively seek out *grass* over concrete, which we didn’t teach her — and that is what most landlords want anyway. 9/10 likelihood the yapping dog in your condo is a small one. Bonus points if it’s a Pomeranian or a Shiba. Both are wonderful breeds, but improperly socialized, well...

No dogs in many public spaces. This is more understandable. But how many times have you been in a store and seen a small dog in a purse or under one’s arm? Meanwhile the large dog stays tied to a pole outside, susceptible to theft (especially at risk he/she is outgoing and easily bribed)! 

Lack of transportation options, without a car. A lot of transit systems don’t accept pets unless they’re in carriers, which is impossible with a large dog. Thankfully, GO Transit recently changed their rules after a successful pilot in summer of 2018 where they allowed leashed dogs on their buses and trains with restrictions (pets needed to stay on the lower level of the vehicles, among other common-sense measures). And as already mentioned, the TTC accepts leashed dogs during off-peak hours. My in-laws live in Fort Erie, so if we want to take Astrid to visit them, they drive the 2+ hours to Toronto to pick up the three of us. Except in summer, when GO Transit is running their limited Niagara train service, and we get to take our pooch along. 

Lack of off-leash dog parks. The nearest off-leash dog park to us, despite living in bustling North York, is about a 40-minute walk down Yonge Street, requiring passage underneath a bridge supporting what is allegedly the busiest highway in North America, the 401 (Business Insider). Once $proghub and I decided to bring Astrid to the magical Sherwood Park in Toronto, which took us about 50 minutes by transit on a weekend. Constituents in my neighbourhood petitioned for an off-leash area to be placed in one of the three(!!) parks in my area, all within a 1 km radius of each other, and one of my neighbours, a seasoned arbitrator, even put together some costing for fencing solutions. The proposal was turned down. To add insult to injury last mayoral election, the leading council candidate in my area, a young mother endorsed by the then current, retiring councillor, promised to install a dog park. That dream dissipated once the retiring councillor changed his mind on retiring and promptly beat her in re-election. So many dogs, big and small, in my neighbourhood, with nowhere to play.

What to do? The solution to all my big-dog woes is to be less eco-friendly, of course! 

Seriously though!  If I buy a house, which occupies more land per family than an apartment, I can avoid all pet-landlord issues by not having a landlord!  Since public transit and cabs/rideshares don’t perfectly accommodate my dog, I can save the frustration by having Astrid drool outside the window of my very own Bonewagon!

Sounds ridiculous, right? For the first 3 years of Astrid’s life, we lived in a large 2-bedroom apartment with plenty of space for her to roam. Around the back of the building, there was a large, forested area that she happily explored (and pooped in). The vet was a very short walk away, cabs or friends’ cars were available for short journeys and driving lessons, and the in-laws lived much closer so picking us up took about half the time.

However, circumstances changed, as they do. We moved back to Toronto for me to finish my degree. The cost of rent in Toronto was nearly twice that of Waterloo, and our living quarters changed from about 1000 square feet to 615. Because of the extensive, pet-friendly transit system and the cost of practising driving with the car share, I let my G2 license expire rather than practise intermittently and nervously towards my full G license, since we wouldn’t be buying a car even if I had attained it. Of course Astrid was coming with us — we weren’t going to be one of those families that abandoned their dog through moving. 

Our building is extremely pet friendly, housing Great Danes, Labs and Huskies, and even a sweet, massive Saint Bernard, along with many more “apartment-sized” breeds. Without a doubt, the community is richer for it. People know each other by their dogs’ names. Lobby bathroom accidents are extremely rare. When a resident puts their old dog to sleep, the loss is also felt by neighbours, because you’ve seen that dog for the past few years. You’ve watched them become all warty and grey and scabby and slow — they’d wag their butts when you’d pet them, in spite of their arthritic hips.

Owning a large dog is a pretty normal North American thing to do. I just wish that as dog owners, we didn’t have to jump through so many hoops in order to enjoy the friendship of these unconditionally loyal creatures. With all the shit we humans put ourselves through, we could use the extra love.

Dog tax: