Tag Archives: Dogs

Deb and Jeff’s Visit

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A few days ago, I showed you some photos of our trip to the Herradura Tequila Distillery. Here are a few photos of the rest of Debbie and Jeff’s visit, including trips to our local Tiengas market, Tonala and Telaquepaque as well as to Jesus Lopez Vega’s art studio, Chac Lan Restaurant  at Monte Coxala and Yolanda’s house!

Click on first photo to enlarge photos and read captions.

And to the Brewhouse
for a little wining…
and dining
Then a musical welcome to Tlaquepaque.
Debbie and Judy earn their wings in Tlaquepaque (photo by Jeff)
A little more dining…
in Telaquepaque.
Lots of local color…
and shopping.
and a trip to Monte Coxala (photo by Jeff)
for a drink at Chac Lan Restaurant,
and to enjoy the remarkable artistry of every detail of the restaurant and grounds,
Jesus and Jeff.
To find the graves I adopted four years ago have again reverted to nature after my absence for last year’s Day of the Dead cleanup. Time to hire some help to clean them up again.
A trip through La Floresta

Dogs

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Dogs

Dogs following their masters, close upon their heels.
Dogs waiting under tables, patiently, for meals.
Dogs sitting at attention or looking for their balls.
Dogs patiently waiting for their masters’ calls.

Dogs upon the sofa, shedding all their hairs.
Dogs listening for a certain car, on the front porch stairs.
Some dogs travel as luggage. Others stay at home.
When masters get their leashes out, that’s when they get to roam.

Sitting on the rooftop or waiting in their lairs,
some dogs live as singles. Others roam in pairs.
Strolling ‘round the pool or sunning at the beach,
one dog or another is rarely out of reach.

Some dogs simply have to finish what they start.
First it’s just a little tug, but soon things fall apart.
Then they get in trouble for what was meant as fun.
That’s why they look so innocent after they are done!

Why were they given teeth at all If they weren’t meant to use them?
It wasn’t their intention, when they started, to abuse them!
Their collars and their leashes incite their excitation
as harbingers of their favorite recreation,

but other types of collars are labelled cones of shame.
Hard for dogs to understand that they are not to blame.
So many different types of dogs and different types of masters,
but all agree their good points atone for their disasters.

(Click on any photo to enlarge all.)

Frida was suspicious

 

For Ragtag’s prompt, “Dog“.

Plumeria: Sunday Trees, July 8, 2018

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My plumeria (frangipani) tree has stayed lush for so much longer than usual this year.  I think it has actually bloomed twice, probably due to the early rains.  Thought it deserved a post of its own, but the dogs photobombed at the last minute.

Wednesday in the Hammock with Morrie

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There is a commentary that goes with these photos.  To see it and to enlarge them all, click on the first photo. The arrow on the right of the photo will take you to the next photo.  Have fun! Morrie and I want to share our afternoon with you. He’s narrating.

She enjoyed looking at the lawn Pasiano had just mowed that morning. I tried to help by nipping at his heels, but he got a bit testy, so I retired to my bed in the doggie domain.
She then saw Ganesha staring at her from across the way. He’s the patron of writers, which reminded her she had a book to read.
So she read a few lines before. . . .
In spite of Diego’s best efforts to win me away from Morrie, Morrie had the advantage of being small enough to lie in the hammock with me. Once he tried to jump up with us, which created a lot of excitement.
For once, although he is twice my size, I have the upper hand. I taunt him with my smile!
Once we are settled, mom gives up trying to read and we have another look around.
We see a little sprout growing from the tarred area where the men cut off the big limb when they cut back the pistachio tree.
Some of the foliage is starting to come back
One of the limbs had a little decoration hanging from it, so they left just enough of it to support the wire it was hanging from. Mom kind of had a laugh at that.
We could see the birds and butterflies still alighting in the tabachine tree.
A cardinal perched on the top of a cactus for such a short time that Mom couldn’t focus fast enough, so she didn’t get a very good shot.
Mom had a massage today and I saw him rubbing her feet.
But she didn’t get the hint.
So I settled back to take it easty.

Self-indulgence

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Some would say I was indulging my pets when I built them their own little room onto my house, then steps down into the pool to aid in Morrie’s easy exit when he goes in to retrieve a ball I haven’t retrieved and thrown for him with sufficient speed, but in truth, I’m indulging myself as it means more space in my part of the house, less worry that Morrie will drown if he falls in the pool when it is half full, and more ease in feeding them since there is a little fridge and pull-out drawers for their dry food in their room so I don’t have to stoop over to scoop. Nor do I have to let them in and out on rainy nights, because it has its own entrance. No cruises or diamonds for me.  Just give me a new doggie domain and steps down into the pool.  Indulging us all.

The Ragtag prompt today is indulgence.

lifelessons's avatarlifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown

Now that we are recovered from and over the thrill of the Doggie Domainconstruction earlier this year, I have decided the pups needed a second indulgence.  For 15 years, I’ve been entering and leaving my pool via a ladder really intended for a hot tub, which makes the first step a doozie and upper arm strength a must. Until Morrie arrived, I’ve never thought much about what would happen if one of the dogs fell in the pool.  Although they all hate the water, probably because it is their super-sized doggy water dish and they even resent me immersing myself in it, I nonetheless have pulled them all into the pool enough times to know that when it is full, they can make it to the side and crawl out.  The problem is that sometimes it is half full, because Pasiano empties it half way three mornings a week to allow…

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Bar the Doors, May 24, 2018

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click on photos to enlarge.

Morrie and Diego visiting Mom in jail!

For Norm’s Thursday Doors.

In Quick Time

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The more I slow down, the more rapidly the days seem to slip by. This oxymoron dominates my thoughts in those wee hours when I am trying valiantly to sleep. The awareness of how quickly my life is advancing into its third trimester plugs up my throat until I find it hard to breathe. I fumble for the door key, open the sliding glass doors and slip out onto the patio to gulp the cool night air.

The dogs circle round, Morrie drops hopefully in front of me, a ubiquitous green tennis ball in his jaws. There must be one of those balls hidden behind every plant in my garden.  Just four months ago, I had bought five tubes of them at the sports goods store—each containing three balls. I was about to set out on my yearly  two-month trip to the ocean. I wanted the house sitters to be well-supplied in everything, and the balls were on sale, so I had purchased what I thought would be a lifetime supply. But those balls seem to have vanished as quickly as the two months since my return home had. Two days ago, I had purchased two more tubes of balls. They sit unopened in the doggie supply vault that stores the large bin of dry dog food, a small fridge that holds the wet food I add to the dry food twice daily when I feed them, and other doggy paraphernalia: leashes, collars, medicines, rawhide bones, doggy biscuits.

And so this is a ball he must have rapidly reclaimed from some garden shadow when he heard my key in the lock to the terrace. I bend and reclaim the ball, then throw it over the pool down into the lower garden. Almost as soon as my arm falls to a vertical position, he is back with it again––everything in life seeming to speed up as I slow down.

Now, hours of insomnia and fewer hours of sleep later, I hear him whining on the other side of the security bars outside the open bedroom sliders. He would now have his morning come on more rapidly as I lie, computer on chest, writing my morning blog. I have slowed the world down for long enough. I find an appropriate ending and swing my feet to the floor, in search of Crocs. Time to get in line with the faster world’s schedule, at least for the time it takes to feed the dogs and cats.

 

Click on any photo to enlarge all.

The prompt today is rapid.

Typical

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Typical Day

Bark of dog,
Meow of cat.
Mama-san
takes care of that
with pop of can
and clink of dishes.
After solving
all these wishes,
back to bed.
Write my blogs.
Out of bed.
Put on togs.
Make a smoothie.
Read E-mail.
Into town
for writers’ meetings.
Lots of words
and lots of greetings.
Home again
to write some more.
Pepe’s ringing
at my door.
Once a week
a heavenly rub.
Body restored,
soak in the tub.
Pat the cats,
throw balls for Morrie.
Write some more,
the same old story.
Talk to Dux
many a time
throughout the day.
Sometimes  with rhyme.
Midnight finds me
in the pool
under stars
and Morrie’s rule.
Throw the ball
for him to fetch.
Exercise, then
reach and stretch
to retrieve the ball
he throws at me.
Then loft it over
bush and tree
to lower garden
for him to find.
This is our nightly
pool grind.
Go in to bed
to write some more.
Get up to check
I’ve locked the door.
Other events
often occur.
Trips to the vet
to trim or cure.
Coffee with friends,
or dinner out.
trips to the shore,
without a doubt.
Lives grow and change
often with time.
So this is just
the paradigm.

The prompt word today is typical.

Creatures under Rain

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Creatures under Rain

All day long, the rain came down
to soak the mountain, drench the town.
Each dog stayed in to curl into
his protective curlicue.
I took their lead and kept inside
as the world around me cried and cried.

Though I won’t say that I’m feeling down,
I do not choose to paint the town
and marks on paper have turned into
other than a curlicue.
I painted what I felt inside
with words that folded in and cried.

Their pigments bled and rivered down
joining currents from the town,
and tears from other creatures, too,
joined this watery curlicue.
This whirlpool that we’d kept inside
joined us together as we cried.

The sun comes up and moon goes down
over country, lake and town.
Illumination cycles, too,
through nature’s dizzying curlicue.
When we share these truths we’ve found inside,
others hear what we’ve decried.

The whole world may be feeling down
dreading contact with the town.
The words we free may catch them, too,
in their discursive curlicue,
loosening pain they’ve kept inside—
dispelling tears they might have cried.

 

I was intrigued by the self-set challenge of composing a five stanza poem where each stanza made use of the same six rhyming words in the same order. I think it isn’t terribly noticeable except for the unusual world “curlicue” that eventually tips the reader off as to what is happening.  Still, it was an engaging challenge to make it work six times.What should I name this form? Six-Step? Any other ideas? The prompt today is creature.

Lazy Monday

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Good-bye to some friends, hello to others. Could a dog be more relaxed than this?

(Click on first photo and arrows to enlarge all photos._