It's been pretty quiet out there in blogland for a few weeks now. My favorite bloggers have been otherwise occupied and since most of them are also my readers, it feels like no one is around. (You lurkers don't really count. You don't comment and it's like you're not really here cause all you do is...lurk.)
So this post is just for me.
Hey girl, it's been a real shame you haven't carried your camera everywhere for a few weeks and as your old brain is surly getting feeble, I thought you might like to remember the photos you missed.
Rounding a bend in the creek before sunrise, Mabel is lying down. Is she hurt? She is lying on a golf tee mat someone has thrown in the creek and that head bob and tail wag are reserved only for tennis balls. As I approach closer, I can see her smile. She is gleeful and the sun begins to arc up the mountain behind her in big, bold stripes like a child's painting. She looks like an angel to me.
At our Sunday morning, dog friendly breakfast joint, choosing a table is an art form when you have a dog with a lethal tail. I can't count the number of times a table changeover will occur and some dog lover leaves and a jerk arrives. And even though I tell them about said tail, as in you just might want to share the other side of the table with your dining partner if you don't want to be beat to death with a tail, they still sit and get indignant with me. Hey, we were here first and you had fair warning.
But on this particular Sunday, there is a guy dining alone and he's just arrived. If we sit at a table in front of him, we should have a peaceful breakie and still be a few spots away from the incessant smokers.
I sit and tie off Mabel (in case she spots a cat or squirrel across the busy street) and get my paper. Our waitress comes with coffee for me, cookies and a water bowl for the girl. As I read and turn the third page of my paper uninterrupted by Mabel wondering where our breakfast is, it suddenly occurs to me she's not right behind me. Envisioning her on top of the table behind me, robbing that nice guy of his breakfast, I slowly turn around.
There she is, sitting on his bench! Not like a dog but more like a person. Ass on the bench, hind legs dangling, front paws on the ground facing me! As I look up, I realize everyone inside the restaurant is staring at her. She sat there, looking as if she were patiently waiting for a menu until my breakfast arrived.
Hiking the creek at sunset with the Rhodesians, Sue, ever nimble, jumps up and takes a seat on top of the levy wall. Mabel, wondering what was up, stands on her hind legs right beside her. From behind, they look like two doggie gal pals, dreaming in the sun.
But You Never Let Me...
Dealing with Thunder, the K9 lifetime criminal, was trying on all of us. After his third fight in the creek, I was summoned to pick up the Rhodies so Hiking Buddy could deal with the aftermath.
Hank jumped in the jeep and made a beeline to the front seat. Sue followed and promptly pushed Hank to the back. She sat with her bottom where the small of a human back would be in my front seat. I usually never have dogs up front, but it was an emergency. I let them work it out and off we went.
Later, Mabel jumped in the jeep to run errands with me. From her spot in the back, she sniffed where Sue's butt had been. She blew out her nostrils in disbelief and sniffed the spot again. She cocked her head and looked at me with an indignant look, exhaled heavily and sat down in her spot. I'm certain, it was her way of saying, "You don't let me sit there!"
Watching You Watching Me Watching Her Watching You
There's a wide muddy area of dirty creek that Mabel likes to run across. I wait there, stretching, enjoying the shade and listening to the poplars in the breeze. On this particular day, I suddenly feel like I'm being watched. I check the golf course; no one there. I look all around and finally up.
There on a limb is a baby hawk. He still has fuzzy feathers but already has an impressive wing span. As we eyed each other, a tiny little female humming bird landed a breath away from him.
She struck fear in my heart! She was so small and he was so huge. He could have knocked her silly and swooped in to eat her before she hit the ground. She sat there, unaffected, checking him out and simply flew away when she tired of him.
He and I spied one another for a few more minutes until I felt an insect biting my calf. I bent to swat it away and he vanished. It felt like a dream except that limb was quivering.
As I left, I would see him barely brushing the tree tops. He flew in front of me all the way out of the creek.