Temples of the Dog

The temples of the dog…

feed the restless, the lonely, the down and out.

In the massive fields of daisy and blues, always intense…the wanting to move.

The temples of the dog…are indulged in only you.

Latent beauty of kinship rollicking through and through.

Above and below the strictness of un-tethered land, a mystery for both woman and man.

Doubtless, am I, as to nostalgic past, I relish the tussled mane, the hackles…brittle and crass.

Temples of the dog…

‘I watch in awe that such simplicity and speed. Can encompass such great desire to please.’

Dog’s Playlist

People let me tell you ’bout my best friend
He’s a warm hearted person who’ll love me ’til the end
People let me tell you bout my best friend
He’s a one boy cuddly toy, my up, my down, my pride and joy

In Search of America

Charley doesn’t have our problems. He doesn’t belong to a species clever enough to split the atom but not clever enough to live in peace with itself. He doesn’t even know about race, nor is he concerned with his sisters’ marriage. It’s quite the opposite. Once Charley fell in love with a dachshund, a romance racially unsuitable, physically ridiculous, and mechanically impossible. But all these problems Charley ignored. He loved deeply and tried dogfully. It would be difficult to explain to a dog the good and moral purpose of a thousand humans gathered to curse one tiny human. I’ve seen a look in dogs’ eyes, a quick and vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts

Travels with Charley

 

john-steinbeck-and-charley-his-poodletravelswithcharley2
A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike.  =Steinbeck

Dear Santa…About the Dogs

Dear Santa,

I come back every year with the same wish!  Have I been good?  Well, I suppose that is debatable.  Have I been nice?  Well, that leads me to my request.

The same request I have had for the last twelve years!

Yes, I believe that I’ve been fairly nice.  However, the ‘niceties’ are being pushed to the limit!

It is about the dogs.  Every year, every hour, every available moment…they seem to want to roll in ‘shit’.  Pardon the language…but it is what it is.

Realistically, it isn’t always ‘shit’.  Sometimes, more often than not, it is a dead animal.

I’ve done the research.  I’ve trained dogs…obviously, not well.  Dogs roll in ‘stuff’ to disguise their scent.  To make themselves somehow invisible to those lurking at the farm or hardened trail.

We walk in some ‘wild, wild, acreage.’  Therefore, I am almost as aware of my surroundings as, the out of control dogs.

Not once have I felt that a gopher or skunk had been out there in the thicket…awaiting for us to make one false mistake.

Do not get me wrong!  Obviously we, the dogs and I, are not alone.  Yet, unlike humans, whatever four-legged stranger, danger, animal, that is out there.  Wants to enjoy their walk.  And, wishes for us to do the same.

Please, Santa, could you talk to the dogs about their sub-par behavior?  My wife is beginning to think that I encourage the dogs to be gross.  It is putting a strain on the romance…if you get what I mean.

Yes, I have been nice.  But I am getting pushed to the limit!

Long May You Run,

Ruth