Thursday, November 3, 2011

Cheyenne After Two Years

Its been almost two years since I picked Cheyenne up from the Key West SPCA. She has turned out to be one of the best dogs I've known. She is smart and quick witted, and I mean smart enough to understand what I want and to know its not worth disobeying me. She comes when I call her, she never steals food and she waits patiently when I am forced to leave her at home. In return she gets the run of the house, several walks a day as interesting as I can make them, and all the car trips she can stand. Its turned into a great relationship.
She was dumped because she was "too old" at 81/2, after a life of loyalty I am sure to the family that bred her, chained her, and kept her out of the kitchen (a prohibition we worked to overcome. Cooking with an eager Labrador underfoot is the only way to go). I am amazed by people who will happily overlook the wonderful dogs to be found dumped at the pound by people who are not worthy to own a dog, and who instead run off to buy some pedigree'd status symbol. For $50, Cheyenne was the bargain of a lifetime. The other shithead family's loss is my gain. Long may she last.

Life And Death

Was it too fanciful to connect the young care free woman cycling on one side of the fence... the other side of the fence where lie those who are what we shall all become?

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Empty Alleys

I look at old pictures of Key West when cars first appeared in our world and immediately the streets of the city filled with vehicles. Which is odd considering how little road there was in the 1920's even less than today and yet I suppose infernal combustion was as much status symbol then as now. And still the alleys bulge with cars.

Nowadays for those able to tear themselves away from snug corners like this...Miami is less than three hours away by car these days, no ferries needed.

You don't see this in Miami.

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Havana Lane

The drop in humidity and slightly cooler temperatures have given Cheyenne a new burst of energy which will explain the numerous photographs I have currently from around White, Olivia and Truman. The bloody dog would't stop walking.

A discarded Yamaha 225 a splendid little bike with barely 5,000 miles on the clock superficial rust, a torn seat that deserves recovering and lots of life left in the machine. Disuse kills engines.

Yes well, we are all dreaming of those cold-front-free southern beaches in Cuba in winter, mountain motorcycling year round and fabulous city architecture three hours south of here by high speed vehicle ferry. The timid souls in the White House so far are offering grossly over priced monopolistic charter flights for "approved" travelers only. Isn't odd how we have to get exit permits to leave the land of the free, just as the godless Communists used to require of their citizens when they lived behind a wall.

By the time the old guard Miami Mafia dies off we'll be too poor to dream of riding the Sierra Maestra on a worn out Bonneville.

Still for now we have Old Town lanes which are no bad thing to be limited to.

I'd rather have central air than a window unit and a TV dish. But best of all is a shady porch.

Shade came in handy despite the cooler temperatures. It is still warmer than 80 degrees even though seawater temperatures have dropped lower than is comfortable for swimming.

I want bamboo in my garden but I don't want the work to keep it corralled so I enjoy other peoples'.

Hibiscus, I'm almost certain.

This is the old style Key West that existed only in the good old days. There was a small spat in the paper when one old timer talked of the good old days as a time of raucous drunken noisiness and another responded that it was a time of fellowship and caring.

I expect they are both correct, but for my part I remember Key West in 1981 as rather dusty and isolated and for a young straight man looking for the bright lights of some kind of a city it was rather too insular. Of course now I'm old I'd like that Key West back, please. Havana Dreaming?

Key West dreaming!

I'll take the lanes and alleys and cottages and never mind the raucous drunken good cheer and fellowship. Not least because that's what's left.

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Off Truman

Truman Avenue is connected to Olivia Street by a series of leafy lanes.

It's an odd juxtaposition to my mind between the business corridor that is Truman, gas stations, shops, both pawn and porn, professional offices all lining the main road to El Dorado/Duval and off to the side these tiny slices of almost invisible Conch cottages.

Old Florida details abound.

The jigsaw puzzle tiling reminds me of the true Caribbean.

The narrow entrances are proportioned to the size of the homes. Outdoor living is pleasant but also sometimes necessary when people try to cram a huge former life into a tiny island home.

They used to make coffee here years ago on Pohalski Lane..

Now they dance and teach the latest fads in exercise-for-amusement.

I missed the Fantasy Fest parade as kt was shift's turn to work Saturday night. I am not that drawn to a parade that now includes too many floats that do the semi-pro circuit of parades. I read there was one from Texas this year.

I'd rather have gone to see the float hand built fro the occasion by the Chevron at Truman and White.

Paradise is always for sale.

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