As we travel life's highway we wish, we dream, we talk. It's life. We leave footprints in the sand, we pause to reflect to make sense of where we're been, and then forge ahead. We're still wishing on white horses because it's fun and there is a bit of magic in doing it.
While we were attending the No King’s March on
Saturday, the dogs kept the home fires burning. Of course, if we had left a
fire in the fireplace, they would have been sleeping in front of it. However,
they kept to their job of guarding, sleeping, and greeting us when we came
home, excited as though we had been gone for 6 months. Don’t you love
enthusiastic greetings?
The treats came from our visiting daughter. Her dog is
in the middle.
Hey, I’m as happy to see you here as fifteen otters
using a muddy creek bank as a slip and slide.💗💗💗💗💗
When my spirit grows weary, I remind myself of
Margaret Mead’s quote:
“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful,
committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever
has.”
—Margaret Mead
Last Saturday, thousands gathered peacefully in
Springfield, Oregon, for a No Kings March. I even heard strains of the
60’s “This land you land, this land is our land, from California to the New
York I- land…”.”
We gathered to state our case and to tell the
establishment that this is what Democracy looks like—
And to remind everyone who will listen that what Abraham
Lincoln said in a two-minute speech in Gettysburg still rings with the force of
angels singing: “That the government of the people and by the people shall not
perish from the earth.”
From my perspective
There I am by the Public House that looks like a church in the upper left-hand corner of the picture.
I left carrying HOPE. She doesn’t weigh much, and she
is sweet and generous.
(Well, after the previous No Kings March, the
President published a meme that showed him Crowned as a King flying a plane over the
marchers and dumping excrement on them. (Oh, there is an entire AI-generated
video—that’s totally gross.) That’s what he thinks of his constituents and
anyone who dares oppose him. And, this man was somehow given the position of
CEO of this country. What an opportunity to do good, to bring “we the people”
together, and to guide honestly and honorably. He could have built a laudable
legacy for himself and a future we could be proud of. Well, folks, he blew
it!)
But we came back stronger on the second march. Eight
Million! And I have gotten the message that freedoms, unless constantly
guarded, can and will, if given the opportunity, be taken away from us.
“When Lincoln was elected president, he was concerned that Fido would be fearful and unhappy with the bustle of Washington. The Lincolns arranged for the John Rolls family to care for him. Lincoln specified that Fido could not be tied up alone in the yard, must be allowed in the house whenever he asked to come in and allowed in the dining room at mealtime. To help Fido feel at home, the Lincolns gave the Rolls the dog’s favorite horsehair sofa.
Abraham Lincoln’s dog Fido"I am in favor of animal rights, as well as human rights, that is the way of a whole human being." --Abraham Lincoln
Talking dogs are now a rage.
Owners are presenting dogs with buttons that represent a word. The dog sends his communication with the press of a paw.
I watched a Sheep o’ poodle—something like that, a Sheepdog/poodle mix. This dog had 29 buttons, and she knew their meanings.
I watched as she pressed “Mad.” “What are you mad about?” the owner asked. “Stranger,” came next. “Ouch,” next. “Ouch? What hurts?”
“Paw.”
The owner examined her paw and found a foxtail stuck between her toes.
Awesome. That foxtail was a stranger to the dog.
I talk to my dog, but I’m not doing the button thing. I’m afraid she will begin bossing me around, although both dogs do that already. However, it would be nice to know if something hurt or what they were concerned about.
I find animals fascinating. And there is a lot of inter-species interaction. (When they have developed a friendship.) Our cat Obi licks Lafayette, the coon hound. But let the dogs see a strange cat—ho ho, not good. And a bunny in the yard—that makes them salivate faster than a steak.
I once saw a video of a polar bear playing with a husky. Chimps adopt kitties, and Zoos place a companion dog in with wild cats. Yipes.
Animals love to please humans, except when it interferes with their desires. Or if they encounter a stranger, or an intruder, or like to announce, or take the center of attention.
Like us.
Farm animals learn how to deal with the other animals on the farm and take the human’s food—well, being penned, they must. And regarding cleanliness, they must rely on the humans again to clean their area.
Both the human and the animal probably think the other is stupid.
The dog, however, has a bit more savvy regarding human beings. He is non-judgmental. Oh, he can be hurt by humans, but has a great deal of tolerance for their owner’s bad behavior. He knows how to connect, how to communicate, how to be a friend, and how to love. Dogs love a job, and they perform theirs to perfection and will work for a human if they human knows how to teach him.
I’m even learning about Blackie, our adopted chicken, who has free run of the back yard. I saw her agitated, going round and round the little chicken house, where the young pullets are penned.
The second-story door is open to the nesting box, and finally Blackie went in and laid her egg. She was like a pregnant woman about to give birth. I hope it was easier for her.
Blackie roosts on a chair with a paper under her, and in the mornings, I pick up the paper—chicken toilet.
The birds are partaking of the chicken food, and I have a stainless-steel watering dish with a hose steadily dripping in it. The other morning five birds were having a free-for-all fun bath in the watering dish.
This week I completed my paperback version of Where Tigers Belch. I’m calling it a novella for it is short and to the point.
It follows The Alchemist’s genre in that it follows a young person’s quest to find their purpose.
In my case, a young woman’s quest is on a jungle trail. And her spot will be where tigers belch.
I don’t know much about tigers, except they are the biggest cat and are camouflaged with stripes. But orange? Why orange? Well, it’s pretty. You might wonder how an orange cat is concealed in the jungle. First, mammal’s fir cannot make green, but it makes orange very well. To most colorblind animals, a tiger looks green.
Viola’ big cat, not seen.
Tigers do not have the long-range running ability, so getting close to their prey is essential–thus the need for camouflage. And although we feel sad when a tiger kills an antelope or a deer, they miss 9 times out of 10.
Why the title Where Tigers Belch? I just like Edward Abbey’s poem:
“May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles, and poet’s towers into dark primeval forest where tigers belch, and monkeys howl…beyond that next turning of the canyon walls.”
Making a Kindle book is easy—but have you tried to make a paperback book? I thought it would be easy since I had done it before.
Not.
The ending of Where Tigers Belch gives me a smile.
A muse wrote it.
Link to Where Tigers Belch
Click on the cover
Whoa, I just hit my video link and the whole kit and caboodle came up here. Well, that makes it easy.
