Baby it’s hot out here

 

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It’s so hot around here I have to sprawl…doing the tail tuck because yesterday a little guy called Ben really wanted to ring my bell…plus it is a more pleasing aesthetic.

 

Well pictures do lie!  I hate rawhides.  I NEVER eat  them. Who has been spying on me is what I want to know!  Some paparazzi must have been lurking around Michelle’s  with her camera just waiting to catch me in the act.  OK…so I stole it from my new pal Louis.  I wasn’t planning on eating it; I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.  They taste like…..well, like rawhide if you want my honest opinion.  (is it the dead cow’s hide or his feet that I’m chewing on….makes me want to be a vegetarian).  You wouldn’t want to live on the things.  Personally I much prefer potato chips or Thanksgiving turkey to snack on but owner rarely breaks down on her “no people food” rule! 

 

As you know I’ve been stuck in this damn apartment for over a month now.  The British lady next door accused me of using her garden area as a toilet.  I mean PUHLEESE…is that with those English dogs do, do they have no class?  Has she got her blinds closed when that little Boxer down the way runs over to lift a leg here and there.  Until I got here he ran this joint but I’m here now and those days are gone.  Humans are so damned stupid. The reason I like to lie on the British lady’s patio and have  an occasional wander into her apartment is to stake my claim.  That Boxer needs to know I control the eastern end of the apartment block.  My gang  colours are red, duh! obvious from my red collar eh? and unless you are wearing red….STAY THE HELL OUT.  I think that dog wears some weird multi-coloured braided thing, completely passé.

Anyway, back to Louis.  He’s a well loved dog.  He’s 10 1/2 and can still roller blade with his “reddy”…..(his big guy has red hair). Up and down they zoom until Louis is pooped out.  There is lots I could say about Louis and poop but he’s a friend so let me just say he’s a sneaky devil.  He made a bet with me that he could really embarrass his owner with an old  standad dog joke and you know us dogs…we love to lord it over humans where poop is concerned. —he won the bet.   Louis and I laughed so hard we had to run to the back end of the garden to run our “sillies” out.  Nothing like a good guffaw with a friend I say. 

He’s a Basenji.  Did you know that Basenjis are African Royalty or they used to guard  African Royalty or one of them saw an African King once – from a distance.   He told me the whole story but it was  so darn hot out that his chatter went in one ear and out the other. Get this though…the guy can’t bark.  He has no BARKER. I didn’t even hear him squeak.  To get what he wants he just runs away whenever the door opens.  Isn’t that sly….once they get him back home he gets whatever he wants because they are so grateful he’s back in the fold. He never has to say a word.  I’m going to try it which means  I have to figure out how to get out of the darn hallway of the apartment building. 

The point of telling you about Louis is to bring up the subject of Lucy. She’s wanted now but she had a long hard time on her own until my friends Jim and Karen adopted her.  Now she leads the life of luxury.  I heard owner ask Karen to describe Lucy in one word and this is what she said….Grateful.  Isn’t that lovely.

I’ve walked a mile in Lucy’s shoes and sometimes I get  blasé about my extraprdinary life and forget to be grateful.  I just take mountains, snowflakes, clear rivers, leaves to chase, sundappled patios for granted.  And then I get brought back to Texas!  But ever onwards with Lucy……

I got in from my playdate with Louis and lo and behold there was a letter waiting for me.  Lucy hardly ever gets her paws on the computer so this was a novelty. Unfortunately,  she’s a newcomer to technology due to her deprived early years so, alas, no photo. Maybe next week I will have one.  I decided to share her letter with you. Since I’ll be in town a lot this summer I hope to hang out in Lucy’s back yard. Hope she likes me!

Hi Casey,
I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet each other on Monday.  I think we could have had a blast!
Until we can get together, here is a little intro:  Things are so much better for me with Jim and Karen.  I can’t tell them about my history but they researched it as best they could.  I was born at one of those darn puppy farms and then sold to a pet store.  My first owners loved me at first and taught me some doggie dos and don’ts but then they tired of me.  Maybe that was because I had had two litters and they thought that was enough.  During this time the men around me were pretty hateful and I still exercise caution when one of them is around.  I was almost glad when they gave me to Cocker Rescue.  That is where my new family found me!  Three cheers!
We are going to Colorado in a few weeks.  This will be a new experience for me.  Maybe we can sniff each other after your travels and our return.
Woof,
Lucy
P.S.  I will try to get Jim to send a picture.  Everyone says I’m pretty cute

There really can be happy endings.  Look how  old Don Juan finally found a new family.  He’s so damn happy he hasn’t dropped me a line.  I guess he didn’t love me as much as I thought he did.  I had a happy ending after my abandonment too,  but no dog had as happy an  ending as old Shiprock.  Shipper is one tough dude and he can wear the Superman costume whenever he wants because if he weren’t so tough he would never have survived his first six months on the planet. 

 

Shipper was rescued at about 6 months old. He was very close to  death as he lay by the side of the road outside of Shiprock, New Mexico.  Something had pierced the underside of his jaw leaving a gaping hole that went through to just underneath his tongue.  (Water leaked out the bottom of his jaw when he drank.)  It appeared he had been living on roadkill as there were rabbit bones lodged in the incision, and an unGodly infection had resulted in such deterioration of his jawbone  it appeared to have been broken.  Lauren couldn’t leave him there so brought him home to nurse him back to health.  Given the state of his wounds and his precarious health even I, a dog, can imagine the love and compassion this took.  

Wounds are ugly.  Owner can’t even look at chickenpox so she’d have been useless if this had been me by the side of the road!  Lauren never intended to keep Shipper. She planned to nurse him back to health, find him a home, and move on with her own life.  Well, let’s say it has been about ten years, maybe longer…and she still hasn’t found him another home.  Shipper says she can drive him up the wall sometimes and he feels he’s been darn nice by not finding HER another home too!.  Stalemate.

Shipper thinks he’s so smart because he can balance a cookie on his nose before he tosses it into the air to eat it.  I like to dance around his face pretending I’m going to steal it.  Drives him insane!

Dear Readers, before I leave you I have a bone to pick with you. I have been living here for a month and not one of you warned me about something really frightening that could happen to me here.  Not one of you dropped me a line and said….”Casey beware!”  Look what happened to me!!!!!!! And it is your fault.  See ya later.

 

Young dog get outta my life……

 

I’ve been spending some time suntanning lately.  I should probably wear sunscreen so I don’t wrinkle in the next few years. But you know me… prefer to hope that my thin coat will protect me from those bad rays. I know Boris used to wear sunscreen on his snout but not yours truly.    Hilariously owner actually rubbed that sunscreen tube over her own lips one day forgetting that it existed solely for running over Boris’ runny nose. You should have heard her  yelp when she realised what she had done. Talk about ROFL and basically LMAO….(man, I am quite the up-to-date dog, eh?)

Anyway, above is a shot of me lying in the new miniscule area we call our garden.  If I’ve told her once I’ve told her 100 times…take off the damn collar.  I do not want tan lines around the neck. 

Friends dropped by the other evening.  Every topic under the sun was up for grabs.  No one sat on the fence.   Sometimes fence sitting is a good place to rest and owner should perch their more often.  At least Curly-haired says that she should.  

One topic came up that is near and dear to my heart.  Older lusting after younger.  Whether you are a human or a dog you get sick and tired of being older and having the “other sex” only look at the young ‘uns.  Our guest was lamenting that  while she’s in the market for a nice guy, all the men her age (40 ish would be a number) are only interested in the 25 year olds.  It just isn’t right. Dogs do it too.

When I add up the times I’ve been out and about and those old boys barely give me a sniff, well it breaks my heart.   No, they are gallivanting as close as possible to  some young perky behind.  I see them sucking in their paunches as they check the pretty things out  while sitting  back on their old arthritic haunches.  They look ridiculous and so damned obvious.  Some wear those big old “punk” collars so they will look extra studly.  For God’s sake what do these old boys think they are going to talk about with these young pups.  Let’s face it….way worse for us dogs.  In human years I’m SEVENTY…and I have to endure the indignity of watching my fellow “aged” pals chase bitches that are barely SEVEN years old in human terms.   Humans have laws against this and  it is  high time we dogs rise up and voice our disgust at the behaviour of some of our fellow canines.

For Pete’s sake I may be too old to have puppies but I’m good at snuggling and pillow talk.  Those old dudes could barely stand up on their hind legs if they tried and we all know that that’s what it takes in our world.  Stupid old boors….they wouldn’t know good pillow talk if they stumbled over it in the street.  I can hear it now…”oh Big Billy I went out with my owner today for a good ten mile run.  What did you do….. huh, huh?”  “Oh well sweet Jezebel….I managed to blindly find my way to the mailbox and leave a dribble”. Of course deliberately forgetting to add that that short trek took all the energy he had  so went straight back to a sunny spot to lie down. He needed  to gather his strength to eat dinner with his snaggle teeth. And if these young things think that old Mr. Hotdog is hanging around to raise another litler of puppies….think again ladies.  

Just contemplating this stuff raises my dander.  It brings back fond memories of my six weeks of snuggling with old Don Juan.  Now there was a dog that got it.  He never looked sideways once he met me. He was in it for the long haul.  Why didn’t we keep that sweet guy when we had the chance.  So what if he had to pee every two hours and who cares if he got owner up at 4:30 a.m. to go outside in blizzards to leave some pee mail…..if that’s what he needed, that’s what he needed. Oh Donny boy, where are you now? I could use a little head nuzzle and some  friendly lip licking.  My goodness you knew the way to an old pooches heart.

Don was a victim of the “n” word.  Horrible to think about because a gentler soul has never lived.   The “n” word needs to be banned from all vocabulary.  Barbarity, barbarity, barbarity.  It repels me how easily it slips from the lips of some people as if were acceptable to say.   Me….I have never been able to get over the stutter that starts when I try to say the word.  nnnnnnn……nnnnnn…..gee….I can’t even write it down.    NEUter.  There, got it out, that’s the last time you’ll see that from me.

 

I’m not against the concept, Lord knows we don’t need more homeless  and abandoned dogs roaming our city and country streets.  It is the harsh tones  of the word.  Even human males have been known to cross their legs when they hear it. 

I’m thinking we simply need to give the process a new term. A new advertising campaign needs to be invented and I’ve got a plan.  Benj taught me a song one summer when he returned from Camp Pathfinder up in Northern Ontario.  I guess it is a big old canoeing song or something.  Can’t resist though….here’s a video to show you how  Benj spent 10 summers of his life.

AS usual I’ve gone off topic.   Just had to get that little video in there so you can see the kind of area owner grew up in.  It explains her love of wilderness and Telluride-like environments.

Anyway, to get back to the “n'” word.  My thinking goes like this.  We could use this old camp song Benj loved so much as he did the long three week canoe trip  along the shores of Lake Superior.  I’m thinking of using the term “free balling.”….and stealing the melody from Tom Petty.   Just imagine the peace of mind dogs would feel as they headed off to visit the “v”  (gee, we have a lot of swear words in dog, don’t we)…..knowing they were only heading out to free their balls, not slice them off forever and ever, Amen.  Yup, think I need to start working on this.   We can prevent unwanted pets and create a stress-free thought process for all dogs heading off to the good ol’ vet.   As for me….I’m spayed. See ya later.

Paws by any other name

Adapting is part of a dog’s nature.  I’m getting there.  Living inside this small space  has its advantages.  While home my people are never more than a tail’s width away from me.  My coup to take over the chesterfield has been successful.   It has been so successful that now owner lays out a blanket for me to lie on when  she’s away. Used to be I would dart for cover when I heard the key in the lock so they wouldn’t know I’d been up on the forbidden couch….now I don’t even lift my head.  Dozing, I give a cursory glance as they come through the door and pretend I hadn’t even noticed they were out.

They feel so guilty that I don’t have a verandah to lie on (there is one but I used it to wander into the neighbour’s apartment) that they pretty much take me everywhere they go.  This will end soon as temperatures inside the car can soar quickly and knock me off.  In fact, if they try to take me in the car when it is much hotter than today, you will hear my claws ripping the carpet as they pull me towards the doorway.  Got to get outta here is my mantra but not on pain of death!

Claws.  Hmmph.  There’s a a topic.  Claws are part of paws.  Paws are our equivalent of feet.  Feet have been the topic of the week.  My paws get sore too, you know.  Perhaps if I had a big wedge of glass in my foot we’d go see the vet, otherwise the only kindness shown to my feet is when I’m allowed to wander in the grass beside the walkway.  Owner on the other hand is boring us to tears with her tales of woe.  To make everything sound authentic, she has seen an orthopedist, a podiatrist and a neurologist.  They all agree.  Surgery, surgery, surgery and the sooner the better if she wants to walk anywhere for any length of time. (Italy, cobblestones, walking all day….wheelchair anyone?)  

I’m all for her feeling better but it will mean eight or nine weeks of me living here in Texas. This is the state of my birth and I’m nothing if not loyal but during the heat of the summer it won’t be fun.  AND owner will be  unable to get me out and about to smell the flowers, so to speak.   Woohoo, you can guess how excited that makes me feel.  Us dogs have a saying….JUST SAY NO (to litterboxes).

Today she spent some time with the neurologist.  After picking her feet with pins he declared that yes she had lost some feeling in her right foot. Now wait a minute….LOST some feeling?  I don’t get it.  All she does is moan and whine and complain about her foot hurting!  Get it straight owner…one or the other lady.  Either you don’t feel anything or you do. You are not going to get my sympathy for two diametrically opposed sensations.  Which is it going to be? 

So I sit here and delicately lick at my paws.  There was some really great urine in the grass today and I managed to bring some home with me.  Do they bring those horses in just to keep us dogs excited or what?  Anyway, what she can’t see (or obviously smell!) doesn’t bother her.  If she doesn’t leave a note to tell Curly I had a big walk at three, he ‘ll feel guilty I was inside most of the day and take me out for another big walk at five.  Now how to hide that pen?  See ya later.

Live in the neighbourhood with you!

 

 

Well, let’s make the most of this beautiful day, since we’re together we might as well say…..as old Mr. Rogers would have said as he put on his cardigan.  It’s time to take you on a tiny tour of Texas….Texas like we didn’t even know it existed.  This entire complex is new since owner left town and she’s a lovin it if I do say so myself.  My opinion is  based on the amount of time I spend ALONE in the dark on my dog mat.  However, the air conditioning works well and she’s pretty good to me when she returns home.

First, let me say we are in a one bedroom apartment.  Do you have any idea how small this can actually be?  It’s not like living in a dog house but just about….say I as a small canine.   We’ve only tripped over each other a couple times.  What makes this so doable is that there are plenty of communal spaces….pools, gymnasium,  patios both on the ground and on the top of the buildings.  They nicely installed a dog area where we can go late at night and do our thing in private.  The entire apartment complex is on the equivalant of a giant park with myriad walkways and trails and restaurants.   So let’s go on that tour.

Here we have the view off  our patio.  It seems like a fake photo with the kayaker in the distance but as I type this up…a family of four went by in a couple kayaks.  Of course this is no whitewater adventure and they are simply meandering their way down this manmade (but pretty long) waterway.  Chuckle if you will Telluriders….this is a huge improvement on what was available to people when we first moved here….SHOPPING.

Looking back toward our patio we feel that perhaps we have time travelled and are back in Giverny….April in Paris remember.

As we pass this common area we arrive at the waterfall.  A lone Mallard sits at the top of this waterfall every morning – we think he’s demonstrating his incredible ab strength holding himself in a static position (as he deftly hovers but never topples over the edge) to attract a potential mate.  Of course….have we had our camera with us at 7 a.m. – NO.  Owner barely has her eyes open at that hour and I doubt she’s even noticed the damn duck.  I have…..canard a l’orange is on my mind as I doze off each night.

As we continue on our walk, we pass by a large central plain where me and my new buddies gather most evenings around 5:30 for a game of chase my tail.…wait, no I’ll chase your tail,…wait, I want to chase the ball.  I drop out once they start to play ball.  I have never understood the fun in that pointless game.  It is thrown over and over again and it gets  boring  quickly.  I usually hang out with Cocoa and Melbourne….more on them next week.

This place actually has boat ferries and a trolley.  Like Telluride the trolley is free but I think the boat ferries are quite expensive.  This I understand as there is never anyone on the darn things which makes them costly to run.  See…I can do basic math calculations in my head. For the most part the boat ferry seems to be a place for herons to hang out and preen their feathers. Obviously  I’m back on that “everyone is looking for a mate” theme again.  Well, not me….operations, snip snip, etc. I  am only looking for companionship and a cuddle once in a while.

 

A few ducks live around here and I find them quite amusing.  When I really need a good leg stretch, owner lets me run up to the edge and chase them up and down a bit.  I’m not a novelty and they pay me no mind.  It’s been two weeks and I get  their point.  I’m never going to jump in (she’d kill me!), I’m never going to catch one, and they are never going to give a damn that I’m hopping around like a jackrabbit on the bank.  New diversions can get old so quickly, can’t they?

We continue on for our constituional until we hit the bridge.  Usually owner’s patience has worn out by then and she just wants to yank my chain and get me back.  This is a great place, don’t get me wrong, but it can’t hold her attention like the wilderness can in Telluride where we can walk/hike for hours.  I get a good hour outside and then back we go. Sometimes we cross over and walk by the restaurants where I can find a  crumb or two on the ground but usually it is straight back home with one fun little detour.

Check this out!  I LOVE fish.  I LOVE brightly coloured fish. I love sharing a drink with some fish.  I like to LICK fish.  Give me a fish and I’m happy.  Give me some KOI and the day is golden.

They love me too. And by the way who noticed the heron in my top photo…..I got pretty close, eh?   See ya later.

A great piece of tail

 

Help!  Rescue me.  Owner went crazy.  I’m wandering around Texas stark naked.  You can’t imagine  the depth of my humiliation.  My entire coat is gone…gone like the dodo bird.  Mornings I wake up and feel like myself and then I look down and get shocked that I don’t look the way I feel inside my head. You know what I mean, eh?  There is simply nothing left of the old me.  Just so you remember…below you will find me in winter, again  in Spring and here I am in bloody Texas….look at that hairline!  AND she thinks I’m adorably cute now! HA!  I’ll show her cute….bring out her shoes and I will make them CUTE. Done it before; I can do it again. (it involves a lot of eating, retaining, eating, retaining and then letting go with a wild decorating party if you get my drift). 

 

 

 

 

As you know I was doing fine in Arizona.  I actually really liked it there.  Mars was a blast to hang with.  His family  keep  ducks in their swimming pool. Why? -- no idea but we were fenced out so we couldn’t get at them…..oh we plotted, we connived but no go.  Seems bizarre, true; great exercise though. Super novel idea.  Mars is a great dog so I didn’t want to hurt his feelings and tell him he has one gigantic schnozz..that is dog for nose in case you didn’t know.

 

Next I hung with Vigo and Paia….pronounced like Pieuh but no one told me how to spell it.  Vigo, of course, named for the famous Mortenson of Hollywood fame.  Vigo’s owner has a thing going on; you know that thing humans get for famous actors.  Paia…who knows, something to do with Mexico and a goddess.  She ain’t no goddess unless she’s the goddess of War.  It took a while to win her over with my charm. Eventually I won. 

 

Now you may think Vigo, below,  also has a big schnozz.  Not so.  Vigo has a much more wolflike manly face.  Mars just has the anteater look going on and there is nothing to be done about that.  Mars simply is what he is. I can’t help myself; I have to vent.  Perhaps I’m worked up about Mars’ nose since he can ring a bell to tell his owner when he needs to go outside, and yes, the damn dog even knows how to shut the door after himself when he comes inside.  Apparently, according to Mars’ owner I’m cute but dumb as, and I quote,  shit.  Who does he think writes this damn blog anyway?  Whatever……Mars still has a big nose.

 

Back to Arizona. Wandering through the desert was a blast.  I did get some sticky thing stuck in a paw once and it hurt like hell.  I’ll take an ice ball any day.  This little seed had about a hundred miserable #$*(% spurs on it and holy cow……nasty!  I almost know what it feels like to have owner’s foot pain after my experience. 

After adapting to a great life in Arizona, blue skies, warm temperatures, friendly dogs, nice places to wander and live, they uprooted me again.  Back I went into the car for the most mind-numbing ride of my life.  If this had been my first experience in a car I would definitely have said, “God, take me now.”  However, I have had some fun times  in a vehicle (read bites of burger) so  forced myself to sleep for eighteen and a half hours of total driving.  Of course all that sleeping was topped off with sleeping in a hotel so basically I slept for several days. Et voila…here I am in Texas NAKED!

Owner definitely has some issues.  She’s not making any money so I think she plans to rent me out as a feather duster.  It’s the only thing that explains my gorgeous piece of tail.  There is no other reason I can think of  for that blob at the end of my body.  Am I expected to dust every damn plant around our neighbourhood?  Perhaps I should sit and wiggle my tail back and forth over the water’s edge and use it as a bobber to catch fish? She must be having a mental breakdown to encourage this type of haircut.  I tried to tell the woman at Dog’s Day Inn (also known as dog spa) that this was NOT what I had in mind – and I am actually the body attached to that damn tail – but she mustn’t speak Colorado because she just kept on snipping and fluffing and primping.  They gave me a purple scarf and personally I prefer a rainbow scarf, as I am ambidextrous (isn’t that what they say) in the love department!

Anyway, if you’ve got it flaunt it so flaunt it I shall.  Hey watch it! I’m pretty sure I just heard someone mumble…Dr. Seuss?  See ya later.

Truck packed…check! Ready to roll…check!

 

Don’t know what we’d do if the kids were still living here.  Gee, I barely managed to get squished into a spot in the back of the truck.  However, a new dog bed was in place and waiting for me so I can’t complain too much.  Heck, driving to Arizona isn’t that much tougher than going to Montrose for some groceries and a Sephora and/or Starbucks fix. Luckily we picked good weather to make our trip.  The roads were perfect, traffic was light, and  everyone was in a good mood.

We aren’t sure but we wonder if some early Europeans dropped by and  stole ideas for their Cathedrals.  I mean really…..these rock formations are absolutely awe inspiring. One thing you need to keep in mind is  that every single photo was taken (often THROUGH the window) at 75 m.p.h. as Curly raced down the highway.  This was point and shoot at its most elemental, no time to look for the perfect angle, how to show the glorious structures to their best advantage.  No, it was definitely whip out camera, point, click, and hope something was in focus.

 

Do you think  a flying saucer landed in this one location?  It looks possible and I think Arizona has one of the  highest sightings of U.F.O.’s  anywhere in the U.S. Perhaps that is because of all the wide open space it enjoys.  You can drive for hours and not see anything at all. Check this out.

Like, it wouldn’t cross your mind too! eh?  It is just sitting there in the middle of nowhere looking exactly like a you know what parking spot. (pretty good for 75 m.p.h. don’t you think).

As we pass the Ute and then the Navajo reservation owner and Curly begin the conversation they have had a hundred times before.   Where would the world be today if  (well not me since I’m a dog but you know what I mean) we  had adopted even a bit of Native Americans’ respect and reverence for land and animals, Mother Earth I guess.   What would it be like if we hadn’t killed off entire species just because we could; if we had shown just a smidge of concern for the earth from day one rather than use it as our own personal gift box to do with as we pleased. Everyone gets depressed and the conversation dies.  

If you want owner’s opinion, and granted after all these months you probably don’t, she thinks Arizona is the most amazing place to live. She and Curly and the boys lived there before they lived in Houston, you know.  She feels it has everything.  You probably think it is just a hot dusty desert. No siree Bob…it has the mountains you see above, the San Francisco Peaks with Mt. Humphreys being the tallest.  Obviously with good snow pack you can ski in the winter, go home and have a barbeque on your patio, as you enjoy some of the most incredible sunsets on earth.     Rattlers—yes, she’s seen a few but they left her alone.  In fact they saw her coming and skedaddled.  Owner was even lucky enough to see a gila monster (that’s HEEELA Monster just in case you wondered)  and  two desert tortoises on one hike.  Desert tortoises only come up from underground a couple of times a year  so this was a very special day for her.  Owner asks me to tell you this, “if you are fortunate enough to see a desert tortoise, please don’t touch it.” Humans can pass along a respiratory infection through the touch of their hands and then the poor tortoise dies. Not good. No idea what a sniff from yours truly would accomplish.   

Always keep in mind that baby rattlers are the most dangerous….they just don’t know when enough “venom” is enough.  The big guys are a bit smarter and generally want to get away from you but babies aren’t quite as intelligent.   If you wonder if this is true, check with David’s friend who nearly lost his arm! Brandon….you are a survivor!

Soon we zoom by Flagstaff and end up on the Mesa  we love. Owner and curly get a little misty eyed remembering all their trips up and over the mesa when the car was filled with their kids.  Every Christmas some unknown would run out and hang decorations on a bush or Mesquite tree (no one remembers what exactly) and it would make everyone’s holiday trip as they drove on up to Telluride for some skiing and some snow.  Now, of course, they don’t have to do that because they chose to move  to Telluride permanently.

So much rain fell this winter that everywhere you look are flowers and grass.  Summer is going to bring a lot of fire danger to Arizona this year as the grass dries and turns brittle.  At the moment all we can say is this….COWS EAT YOUR FILL NOW.  You have no idea how good you’ve got it. It’s all downhill. 

Well, no doubt about it.  We are in the Sonoran Desert now. Only place in the world with Saguaro (sa-wah-ro) cactus.  They say it is one hundred years of living until one begins to grow its first  arm; it takes some people that long to develop  common sense, but hey that’s another story. These guys are full of water and should one ever topple on you you will not live to tell the tale.  Trust me, it has happened…..remember that common sense I was talking about…the tales are intertwined.

Finally we arrive at Mars’ house.  He’s some Scottish thing a McNab or a MacDab…a highlander at any rate. He’s not AKC but not a mutt like me either. (Ginny, Stu…Scottish dog, tartan and all that? huh, huh?)  What a great new pal.  One sniff and he’s all over me like white on rice.  We hit it off instantly if you didn’t get my drift.  After two solid years in Telluride it is nice to  stretch out on the patio and enjoy the warm Spring evening.  Nothing like a hint of jasmine in the air as I lie near a palm tree.  Hey, where’s my drink? See ya later.