One of Rockin' Ray's radical Skyy Dogs was doing his thing at the Isotopes park Mom's Day. The wonderful seats, win, weather, beer, brat and entertainment made Sunday afternoon sublime and cast a happy afterglow well into Monday. Happy afterglow, not a hangover.
A devil dog was at the dog door. I had to stop him before he would ruin my house. The plan was to throw my coffee cup at his nose as it poked into the room. But now the little door was shrinking and when I tried to aim the cup it got stuck. The dog was going to bite my hand so I screamed, get out! and woke myself. The poor cat, abruptly awakened by my thrashing, scrambled away and scratched my right hand. It looks like a tiny devil dog bite mark.
I've been packing coffee cups, as it happens, but I need a break.
There may be a little anxiety about the new homeowners (on the part of the cat, of course.)
I've noticed that all the things I needed to be doing in off-hours before retirement have expanded to fill that 8 to 5 space. And I'm still not doing them.
I've also noticed many other, even less profound, things. Like how some dogs bark a whole fucking lot. All day. Every day. I never noticed this before because I was, like their owners, at work.
Continue reading "Crazy Red Dog" »
They move like white tanks rumbling through tall weeds. Fast, swishing their tails and tossing their heads at flies. Big dog still thinks they could be meat eaters - looks apprehensive as they beeline for us.
Everything in the big pasture interests them. They explore and lay claim to anything new - testing fences and lifting improperly installed gates off the hinges. Throwing them to the ground with a big thud.
They are territorial. They poop in the same spots, including on the new driveway. They have a pecking order and follow each other around that way.
They eat anything. Including the new cottonwood. They eat like goats. They might eat goat too.
They must be locked inside the corral when anyone comes to visit. Otherwise they'll knock over the surveyor's equipment. Walk out through open gates. Stand in front of the mower. Assess equinophobic tendencies in dogs and humans in order to seek out likely candidates for thorough nudging and nosing or - if they get lucky - a good chase.
Eva Hunter, aka "Toodles". Soon to be a big dog and definitely not boring at all.
How I Learned to Love Goat Meat. With apologies to Burque Babble's pet chevron, I cut and paste below from the April 1st New York Times piece by Henry Alford.
Their unappetizing visage is simultaneously dopey and satanic, like
a Disney character with a terrible secret.
My conversion moment came this February when I went to the West Village restaurant Cabrito and had the goat tacos. This hip taquería-style restaurant — which is named after the baby goat that is pit-barbecued in Texas and Mexico* — marinates its meat for 24 hours before wet-roasting it over pineapple, chilies, onion and garlic. The resultant delicious pulled meat is tender throughout and slightly crisp and caramelized around the edges. Think lamb, but with a tang of earthy darkness. Think lamb, but with a rustle in the bushes. Think ... jungle lamb.
Suddenly I was go go goat. I wanted to order goat in as many restaurants as possible. Shortly into this process, a friend asked me, “Is it gay meat?” Confused, I said, “There’s nothing gay about it at all.” She explained, “No, I said is it gamey?”
*New Mexico too.
Big Dog has matured into a beautiful beast since his puppyhood three years ago. He has stopped chewing rugs. Thank God. He went through about 4 Navajo saddle blankets and the edges of 3 Persians. He also chewed novels and photograph albums. I dreamed he was in a book club with Humpy the neighborhood Chihuahua.
Continue reading "Big Dog Reading" »
Domina is the color of dark chocolate and very strong-willed. She came from the streets and now enjoys sleeping on fresh linens or a warm lap and likes eating off the good china.