Tag: terriers

D is For Dog Crossing

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I never noticed this dog crossing sign before. It’s up the road from me in front of a house that perches over Laguna Canyon Road halfway up a steep, half-tarred, half-concrete road paralleling the canyon. It’s the only house up there. Jake and Fergie, my Staffordshire Bull Terriers, and I sometimes take this route for a quickie hike, instead of the three-mile steeper version further down Canyon Acres. For one thing, there are no prowling rangers up here, ready to ticket me for letting the dogs run loose (Me and The Law), and for another there’s a rope swing at the top where Fergie has been pushing me from behind whenever I sit on the plank seat. I’ll have to get a shot of that sometime. Maybe that can be my “S is for Swing” blog . . . hmmm.

You’ll have to click on the photo to see the little dog crossing sign behind Fergie. Jake’s on the bench. No Jimmy today. He’s the little black mutt with cocker spaniel leanings who usually ambles from the house to bark at us. Maybe that’s why I’ve never noticed the sign, I’m too busy reining in Fergie. She’s a real pushy girl, thinks everyone is into getting some touch, some love, like she is.

Looking For The Moon

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I hurried up Canyon Acres, Fergie and Jake straining on their leashes, camera bouncing against my hip.  I had to catch the full moon just as it crested the rocks at the end of the road.  Earlier that morning there’d been a total lunar eclipse in Gemini: sign of thinking and communicating (two of my favorite things to do).   It would be a spectacular shot.I got to the end of the road.  Where was the moon?   Just the night before it had perched there not quite full, bathing the entire hill in its soft milky light.  And then further up, in the middle of that road that detours around this one hill, I’d caught the sun in a blaze of glory above Catalina Island.  Two shots for the price of one.  Except I didn’t have my camera at the time.  Now I did and there was no moon.  Well, I could at least try to catch the sunset.I ran up that first leg, not something I’m fond of doing, think steep slalom ski slope, only to arrive at the aforementioned viewpoint to see the sun’s fairly unspectacular retreat, as evidenced by the above shot.  Okay.  So, the moon had to be somewhere, right?  Or had I imagined its location the day before?  Clenching my jaw, my Taurean–read persistence–jaw, I kept going around the hill headed for the next.  Maybe the moon would appear at the Top of The World (if you’ve read my musings before, you’ll know that’s what that area is actually called), another two miles up.

As we rounded the hill, Jake and Fergie, grinding against each other in play ahead of me, I stared at the top.  Where the hell was the moon?  And then I noticed the two figures pinned to the second hill above in the dying light; a woman’s laugh rang out in the clear air and I saw them bump together.   We kept going up the next hill, and then the next, up to the caves.  Still no moon.  I had to turn back.  Coyotes at this time of the evening, with two maniac terriers afraid of nothing.  I started back down the hill, running.  And then just as I reached the last leg, I heard that same woman’s voice shout out: “I love you!”  I stopped and feeling a soppy grin spread across my face, took it personally.  I’d missed the moon, but I’d been bathed in the light of love instead.