Walking the Dog

Poor Ramona slept outside last night under the cedar tree, it was so hot. Jones lay next to me on the bed and panted into the fan. So we got up early and took a good long walk while it was still cool. Who knows what state they’ll be in when I get home from work. On days like this I wish they were more enthusiastic about swimming.

Cat poop consumed: no

Hey kids! Want to make some extra money? Do you like dogs? Here’s an exciting opportunity with one of the most innovative and fun places to work in Oregon. We’re hiring a select team of highly motivated kids to chase Jones at the dog park. Bonus available for making him really tired. Set your own hours! Work as much as you want! Competitive rates. Must provide own sneakers.

Cat poop consumed: no

Jones was looking pretty hot so I pulled over to let him get a drink from the river but he wasn’t interested. I splashed his head and chassis with some cool water to help with ventilation and we continued our bike-trot. The pod of three people at the Knickerbocker Bridge looked like folks who would offer unsolicited advice along the lines of You shouldn’t be riding a bike in your condition especially with a dog in tow. Sure enough, one of the guys says, Your dog looks thirsty. You should give him some water. Yeah, thanks, pal. And your pink friend looks like he could use some sunscreen.

Cat poop consumed: no

heat+hiking=tired dogs

Just 45 minutes in the car and we’re in the ferny glades under the big doug firs by the gorgeous rush of the river. Unfortunately it was no cooler up here than in the valley. L.’s green shirt grew a speckled wet patch along his spine and I had to fold my tank top up over the swell of my ridiculous belly. Jones was so eager to get to the first water stop that he launched himself off the footbridge when we still had 10 feet left to cross. My dogs are barking, L. said at the end of our three-hour tour, but he wasn’t referring to our two weary guys, who drank the rest of the water and sacked out for the ride home. Jones hardly showed interest in L.’s post-hike corn dog.

Cat poop consumed: no (human poop yes. I know, gross.)

It’s the Classic Cars Cruz! In downtown Springfield! Right down Main Street! With one dog apiece, L. and I threaded our way through the sidewalks packed with folks eating snack foods in folding chairs watching the parade of el caminos, camaros, and cadillacs. One VW bus and lots of cool old trucks. They were selling rootbeer floats in front of the day spa and the Hawaiian Elvis impersonator was performing in the parking lot of the Chinese restaurant. I had to stop a few times with Ramona to do outreach, i.e., letting kids pet her. We circled back down 10th and talked about how nice it is to see people! out on the street! in Springfield!

Cat poop consumed: no

Consider if the samurai and his wife had dogs with them while they were walking through the forest. The horse may have provided transportation but it just took off when things got messy. Jones, for example, wouldn’t have let the bandit-rapist do his dirty work and live to laugh maniacally about it.  And Ramona would be comfort and succor if anyone did get injured. Maybe the wife wouldn’t have thrown herself to the ground in uncontrollable sobs quite so many times with the love of a good dog to sustain her. And I would love to see what Kurosawa would do to re-enact the dogs’ version of events. Hello, remake?

Cat poop consumed: yes

coop courtesy of This by Them

The expected rain today started to fall while we were still out on the path, but it’s July so even Ramona was dry by the time we crossed Mill St.  Rain is pretty unusual in the Willamette Valley this time of year, and the temperature has dropped to require jeans. And was that thunder or just heavy equipment on the new I-5 bridge project? We made it home before the skies opened up in a bona fide thunderstorm. Good for the crops but hard on chicken coop construction, which had to suspend operations for a few hours until the lightning passed and the use of power tools became a little less nutty.

Cat poop consumed: yes

As Kenny Rogers said, there’s someone for everyone (and Tommy’s love was Becky). So I’m glad there seem to be plenty of people who appreciate the dachshund, which is a breed whose original function–hunting rodents in their holes–has overwhelmed its form–long & low. I find them unbeautiful and inconvenient. The poor guys need stairs to get up on the couch. And they can’t move all that fast on those short legs although Jones had a fairly satisfying romp with one today. Jones did most of the running.

Cat poop consumed: no

Is there a name for those median-strip like concrete things in the middle of apartment building parking lots? Mostly they are covered in grass, but at the Imperial Arms across from the park they all contain little vegetable gardens. The Imperial Arms itself has kind of gone to seed, so it’s appropriate that there is corn growing in the parking lot. These pockets of renegade food production make me feel very happy.

Cat poop consumed: no

I forgot to bring the leashes. The dogs made it safely from the car to the house, but when O. suggested an after-dinner walk we had to punt. Fortunately Booty lent one of his extras to Jones but Ramona had to make do with L.’s belt., which turned out to be a stylish alternative. Jones was especially squirrelly in the reconfigured pack and never really settled down. I felt a certain elevated excitement myself as we strolled past kottage after kottage, each one kuter than the last, with Monroe Park nestled in the middle, and then there was Sweet Life, a treasure house of dessert delights mere minutes away.

Cat poop consumed: no