February seems innocuous enough.
A nice little month, just 28 short days, 29 on a leap year.
Hosting St. Valentine's Day for all the romantics, and home to "Heart Month", an awareness campaign for The Heart and Stroke Foundation.
Short and sweet.
A nice stopping point between an excruciatingly long January and March, which heralds the arrival of Spring and other fun activities such as St. Patrick's Day and Lent.
However I have come to believe that February is not as nice as it would lead us to believe.
In fact, it has a devious side, a dark part, which has shown its face over the years.
A sociopathic, covert narcissist with underlying bipolar and borderline personality disorders, covertly waiting for the least right time and right place to reveal itself.
Perhaps I am being a little harsh.
I am for certain a little biased.
As I look back upon the years, I am struck by how many tragedies have struck in February.
I am talking about my own personal experiences of course.
I lost my brother on February 4, 2021.
I lost my precious old horse Pumpkin on February 17, 2024.
I lost my old cat Magnum on February 24, 1998.
I lost my old dog Cody on February 22, 2006.
My new mini-horse Winston had a terrible case of colic in February 2024; thankfully he was okay.
Several friends and acquaintances have also lost their pets in February, many as recently as this year.
We have had the snowiest February on record in 2025 - with some of the worst snow storms imaginable descending up on us just before and during Family Day Weekend - forcing families to shelter in place around the Monopoly or Scrabble boards.
I have come to think that February has a Napoleon complex - a term coined after the late, petite leader, for anything small, such as Jack Russell Terriers, that seems to feel obliged to offer up grandiose and terrible reminders that they are only small in stature.
That inside any cute, cuddly, tiny presence lurks a heart of darkness; any promise of something sweet is promptly followed by a teaspoon of poison.
I am grateful that this February has left me unscathed this year.
And I am trying to find any good that was hidden in those four short weeks.
Other than being thankful that every day closed with no severe loss, I can find none.
And I have been accused of being far too positive for many people's liking.
So if I can't find anything positive, I doubt there was any.
Oh sure, over the years there have been some magical February's: I started my career at CKVR-TV in Barrie in February 1993; I also left it after 17 years in February 2010.
Perhaps some would say I manifest the problems that February brings, by expecting it, inviting it.
Perhaps that is true, to some extent, as I practically brace myself for what it will bring.
I mean, not every month can be fantastic, can it.
And the fact that other tragedies have been spread out onto other months over the years makes me nothing but grateful, so that February doesn't have to bear all the brunt.
And now it is March; a month I have waited for on tenterhooks for the past 28 days.
And it has indeed, true to form, roared in like a lion; complete with snow and wind and frigid temperatures, wiping away any teasing's of Spring that we had last week, reminding us that indeed Winter is not through with us yet.
But March 1st also marks Meteorological Spring. The birds have been singing as I awaken in the morning, hailing that they are good to go.
And they remind me that soon the Red Bud tree in the front yard will be blossoming its pink flowers, the fragrant Lilac trees will be filling the air with their perfume, and that soon I will be cursing every Dandelion that makes its appearance in our garden.
And another February has come and gone, and thankfully this time it has left my heart intact.