Downtown, Cottage Grove

As regular readers of the doglog well know (i.e., myself and L.), I do love a good dual-purpose dog walk. As L. and E. settled in to another chapter of Matilda, I took the opportunity to hustle down to the ballot drop box in front of the library to make sure Our Voices are Heard in the special election. Plus also I ate maybe too many noodles for dinner and then had to try my stupid homemade so-called Clif Bars, all of which gave me a gut ache. Hello, uncooked oatmeal and flax meal encased in peanut butter, quelle surprise.

Advertisements

Downtown, Bishop

Even amidst the spunky bulkheads of civilization, which include but are not limited to the ready availability of excellent coffee at the Black Sheep, affable motel signs (“Once a guest, always a friend”), provocative church marquees (“Pray boldy”), the former liquor store now filled with Mr. Schat’s collectible cars, even with all this the wilderness intrudes on our complacency. For behind the butcher shop lie two deer forelegs neatly sawed off and still covered in hair.

Cat poop consumed: no

Downtown, Bishop

You’d think in a small town that you’d run into people all the time, but actually you run into the same people all the time. It confirms my theory that we are all assigned to a particular track, like the reading groups in 1st grade, so you rarely if ever see people who are in, say, the Bluebird Group. Further evidence tonight when I saw M. at the post office. I see him every time I’m in town, no lie, which is a bummer since he is kind of a bummer and I am forced to relive those weary months when I worked for him as a hod carrier almost 20 years ago. Not like B., who I had a crush on that one time and who was my actual neighbor but who I never ever saw and which foiled any hope I might have had to flirt with him. He was just assigned to another track.

Cat poop consumed: no

Downtown, Springfield

The extremely skeezy Club 420 (a supposed reference to its address, not its guiding principle) lost its liquor license two weeks ago and there seems to be a domino effect happening downtown. The stalwart guns & ammo store has “closed until further notice.” Lifetime Ink has relocated its needles and naugahyde lounge furniture further down to 14th, one assumes so they can be closer to the inspired patrons of the the strip clubs that cluster there. Dancers A La Carte (serving all of your dancewear and erotic housecleaning needs) is also closeing [sic]. But if you still have needs there is a number to call in the window. And the strip club that tried to open across from the arts magnet high school has finally removed the Opening Soon! sign. I doubt that my colorful burg will ever really gentrify, i.e., open a dog treats bakery, but is it possible that vice and dissipation may give way inexorably to day spas, Jazzercise, and soul food?

Cat poop consumed: no

Downtown, Springfield

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

Downtown, Springfield

If I told you that “Maca Baca” is a new business on Main Street, would you have any idea what you could expect to find there? Even if I tell you that it is a restaurant? With a cartoon moose on the sign? The banner on the wall promises “24 flavors of soft serve” so I figured it deserved a closer look. As I scanned the front windows for any insights into the content and spirit of the place (all-you-can-eat spaghetti feed on Tuesday nights, Sunday brunch buffet, posh coffee bar), a hopeful proprietor came to the door  and assured me “we’re open” which I could only assume meant dogs are also welcome. I already feel a protective affection for this place, given its misfit messaging. It seems well-intentioned but ultimately doomed, so I’m going to exploit the soft-serve opportunity while I can.

Cat poop consumed: no