I was armed with the latest copy of Vanity Fair filled with gossip and innuendo so I had no problem standing in the woods while Cheyenne did her thing.
The light was gorgeous illuminating the upper reaches.
While down below we trundled along through the green tunnel.
Cheyenne's relationship with wildlife is pacific on the whole. Birds fly away and she ignores them. Key deer tend to be more interested in her than she in them, though she does like sniffing along their trails after they are long gone.
Enough ambling and she likes a nice lie down on the cool rocks or in the mud.
Luckily this trail is mostly rock which kept her clean but which encourages people to ride their bicycles here. We met one such, a severe woman with ear phones and a scowl who barely acknowledged us amateurs as we bimbled along sniffing and reading and staring at the sky as we went. Then another severe lady appeared ushering along three loud busy dogs held back on powerful leather leashes. She needed jack boots to complete the effect. Cheyenne barked back a bit as they took off down a side trail before we resumed our meander. I like walking a laid back dog but I do admire those brave souls that give a home to loud energetic and overly eager dogs.
It was a glorious sky overhead, finally the cold front had arrived bringing not cold weather but sunshine and blue skies.
I was having so much pointless fun meandering in amateur fashion, I was late for an appointment with my wife to water an absent friend's garden. My dog passed out after dinner, exhausted by the excitement of No Name Key in winter.
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