Not just for the birds
Not everyone sleeps with dogs. We do. One of the purest pleasures I know is, upon getting into bed, having Peat collapse himself onto my left side, pressing his back against my ribs and torpedoing his head across my armpit, his nose inches from my face, and his relaxed amber eyes peering into mine as …
Leslie traded her gun for the Nikon yesterday and caught a remarkable sequence on a chukar bust. She actually busted two birds behind me, and Angus went after the lead bird. The bird in the photos is the second bird. When I look at Angus in the third photo, it's hard to reconcile the fact …
There's a gorgeous but reviled magpie out the window scarfing up birdseed. A Eurasian dove just landed 5 yards away. Peat and Angus are snoozing after today's opener, dreaming of getting skunked because their idiotic "master" took them to a parched desert landscape to look, duh, in vain, for the first chukar of the season. …
We anticipate a lot things. The big yellow school bus recently started up its route again driving back and forth on our gravel road twice a day, spewing a cloud of dust behind it. We knew that would happen, just as we knew Bob would be returning to the classroom to teach literature and poetry …
What is it about our dogs? Or maybe I should speak for myself, and - since he can't type - Angus. I'm just in a tribute mood, perhaps because we're in the "holidays," and I'm feeling grateful for lots of things. Angus is at the top of my list. My new job keeps me away …