Cheyenne, A Wonderful LIfe

It is a complicated thing trying to explain to a non believer how much pleasure you can get from the company of a dog. Outside of a dog a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read,a quotation attributed to Mark Twain, about sums up how I feel about Cheyenne. She came into my life in December 2009 and even though she was given up to the pound on the grounds of being too old (?) I expect she has a few more good years left in her. I'd be as ready to give her up to the pound as I would be to cut my own heart out. She has traveled across country with us in the car, been all across the South visiting various friends and relations and she has thus suffered mightily at the hands of my wanderlust. Cheyenne exhibits unnatural abilities to make up her own mind, she knows what she wants, and she lets me know in no uncertain terms. When I have been bedridden with the 'flu she has slept with me and when I have been to tired to walk her she has failed signally to show her disappointment.  My tribute to my ever patient dog:

Ocracoke, North Carolina.

                                                Waiting for me to come home in the morning.

                 

                                                     Santa Cruz California, not dog happy.

 Happy dog at It's Beach, Santa Cruz  westside.

                                                              New Orleans in the heat:

 Kristi's dog Bane empathizing:

 Admirers met on the street:

 Taking Elly's guest bed:

 Admirers on the street:

 The Fiat 500 was a bit small for her:

 More strangers!

 Loop road in the Everglades:

 That face:

 My angel:

 St Augustine:

 Mommy's exercise mat in a pinch:

 Ft Lauderdale:

Cruising New York's Finger Lakes in Steve's car:

 Vineyard dog:

 Brooklyn:

 Dog friendly La Quinta, always:

 Celo, North Carolina, an intentional community:

                                                         The Adirondacks, New York:

 Green Mountain Coffee, Vermont:

 Burlington Vermont:

 With David Masse, Montreal:

 Canada's Doughnut shop in Montreal:

 Mount Washington, New Hampshire. It was frigid and she liked it.

 Tourist Train, Portland Maine:

 Cidery in Portland, Maine:

 Boston by night:

 With Jack Riepe in New Jersey:

 The Lewis to Cape May Ferry:

Not impressed enough by summer in Cheyenne, Wyoming to bother stepping out of the car:

 Las Cruces New Mexico got her attention.

The Appalachian mountains.

My nephew's guest couch in Asheville, North Carolina:

Home:

Picnic Island, Newfound Harbor:

 How did Jack Riepe get in here (again)?

With my sister-in-law in Celo, North Carolina:

 Bobscoot, Bend, Oregon.

She took refuge from the heat in a wine shop in Bend:

A passer-by:

 A coffee stand in Oregon.

 Rick and Cheyenne, Santa Cruz harbor.

Her first sight of the Pacific Ocean, not impressed:

Porter Sesnon State Park, Santa Cruz County, California, above, and at home below:

Above, the monument at Elizabeth Street, Key West.

Home, asleep.

Labradors  shed mightily.

 

                                                                                                             Helping me work on the Bonneville

Sharing my Iron Butt certificate.

Not everyone was happy to see her:

                                                          A very long walk in the mangroves.

 An impromptu vet visit, Montgomery, Alabama.

 Karl and Cheyenne in Birmingham.

 Her grassy bed at home .

 16th Street Church Memorial in Birmingham.

Boating isn't her cup of tea. But she puts up with it to be with me. I hope we get out this summer...

 Blue Hole, Big Pine Key. Not Cheyenne.

My Beloved Cheyenne RIP

Now it has ended but this is how it all began, Posted December 8th 2009, the day after I picked her up on Pearl Harbor Day.

Meet Cheyenne

Okay, it's not my kind of name, but she is my kind of dog. 73 pounds (33.2 kg) of Labrador love. I picked her up just before lunch yesterday, and we spent a rather hectic afternoon together once I signed the adoption papers and forked over $50- cheap at twice the price in my opinion. The Florida Keys Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals has it's work cut out for it; I don't recall seeing a sign like this at any other animal shelter:

There were lots of dogs to choose from but my wife spotted Cheyenne at the Holiday Parade Saturday night and my heart was set on her. This was her neighbor, cute and full of life.

They are trying to raise five million bucks to build a hurricane proof air conditioned shelter here on Stock Island and they do a great job with what they have, cobbled together pens and kennels and a surprising amount of love:

Volunteers walk the dogs and spend time with them. Cats roam free in a large cage, if they are suitable for the communal experience while some of the dogs get to hang together in groups and play madly. Cheyenne was aloin her pen when I arrived

:

Neither of us needed it but we got a get-to-know-you-walk together and she was as ready to go home as I was.

She's a cheerful dog, wagging her tale on her way to saying goodbye to her former fellow inmates. She was dumped at the pound on October 27th 2009 by a military family from Louisiana, who, to my horror got rid of her, their older dog, and kept their younger animal. What a mistake they made. I cannot imagine the cruelty of dumping your family pet because she is old. And Cheyenne is a very young eight. She's never coming back here, that's a promise.

Cathy checked me out and told me about her issues, the usual skin problems caused mostly I suspect by stress, ears itching and so forth. No big deal. She was spayed by the pound (eight years old and not previously spayed- who are these idiot people who dare to own dogs?) and she got a vet's check out before being put up for adoption.No heart worm which is nice and a bit surprising

.

Before we could leave my wife had to come by and bond with the dog so the SPCA is sure the animal would be compatible in the home. They checked county records to be sure I owned my house, and then all the shelter workers came by to say good bye to their favorite Labrador and we were off.

The plan was to take a quick walk, go home and relax. The day did not go as planned. Cheyenne walked straight to the car and climbed into the back seat like a pro. This was going to be easy I said to myself.

We stopped by Little Hamaca city park and Cheyenne was off, sniffing and checking every little piece of greenery out. She looked like a dog in need of stimulation, and I think she found the right home because I know every wild dog walk within 30 miles of my home.

.

She rides like a dog raised to be in a car, settled in the back seat, never bothering me at the wheel. I left her to do a little light shopping (brushes, bowls, some food etc...) and she sat quietly in the car while I was gone. It was heartwarming to come back to the car and see the little yellow head peering out looking for me.

The beach brings out the juvenile in a dog and I met a couple of my friends who wanted to see my "new" dog on the waterfront. We ate our Badboy burritos at a Rest Beach table (and I was delighted to see no begging!) and let her loose on the sand. She started to run like a newly liberated dog.

Cheyenne doing her pit bull imitation tearing up and down the beach ears flat back:

She apparently has never been trained to enjoy the water and she didn't do much more than paddle around a bit before fleeing back to dry land

:

Noel thought the water was too cold so I had to explain a little about the Labrador breed's heritage as boat dogs raised in the cold Canadian North. They were first recorded as a distinct breed in Britain arriving off a Canadian fishing boat in 1820. In England they were trained to retrieve birds shot down in brush and bog. They thus have thick oily coats and Key West's balmy waters even in winter are nothing to them.

It really was time to bugger off home and do some settling in. So off we went, Cheyenne doing her duchess thing in the back after a firm rub down with a towel...

.

..before settling down for a nap while I did the chauffeuring thing up front. We got as far as SugarloafKey when my wife called requiring my presence back in her classroom on Stock Island. Heavy lifting is my specialty. She was in a meeting so I figured young Cheyenne might as well get some more of the great outdoors she had obviously been missing for a while. We went to the Bat Tower.

It's pure speculation on my part and I doubtless have an over active imagination when it comes to dogs but I spent apart of the afternoon wondering how long she had fallen out of favor before the bastards dumped her. I wondered about being supplanted by a new younger dog in the family and being sidelined. I wondered even if they had had the gall to breed her and kept one of her puppies to replace the aging version. I really don't understand the prejudice against older dogs. To me they are more deserving of care and love and security. And Cheyenne is great company. She found an abandoned lunch on a utility trailer bed and amused me for a few minutes as she circled and tried to figure how to get it. She leaped up and almost nailed it but gave up.

.

I am a lot less fanatical than some about what a dog puts in their mouth. Emma, my last Labrador sailed with us through central America along with our husky mix. They ate anything and everything they could find in every harbor we stopped in, and along every beach. Chocolate, chicken, greasy nastiness, whatever they found they ate and no way was I sticking my hand in their mouths. I metanother cruiser who freaked every time his German Shepherd so much as looked at the gutter. I found my style of travel was much less stressful and the dogs did fine. I have no doubt Cheyenne will too. Though I do want to try to keep the weight off as much as I can in our calorie filled world. Labradors don't age much and I want her as long as possible.

The last I saw of her before I went in to work for some late night overtime was a big yellow mound next to my wife's shape under the covers. She stopped snoring a moment and raised her head off the bed. Then she flopped down and I tip toed out and fired up the Bonneville. A home isn't a home without a Labrador and a rescued Labrador is the only way to go. Why buy a dog when there are so many abandoned animals looking for love and appreciating it when they get it? I just don't know why you'd encourage people to produce more dogs when there are more than enough already available.

I won! No, my wife and I both won! No the SPCA won! No really, Cheyenne won the lottery (look at her on the bed for confirmation). Now we just need to figure out a new name.

=========================================

I may have to take a few days off. I know life goes on and all that but this page is as much about Cheyenne it turns out and I cannot face this blank page without her for now. Time heals all things but this obituary was prepared before the event and now I need to rest and remember before picking up again. I miss her so very very much. Tear are inadequate.

Posted with Blogsy

420 Lounge

I was skeptical when I heard that the famed Square Grouper was opening a tapas bar upstairs. Mind you the Square Grouper needed a refresher, even though it is packed every day the menu isn't really eclectic any more. the 420 Lounge upstairs, known as My New Joint, has changed that completely.

Robert and I saw a movie which he liked a lot and I quite liked even though Quentin Tarantino plays a lot for effect when he makes a movie. The Hateful Eight was clearly a joke at the expense of the Magnificent Seven and the continuous use of the hated N word referring to Samuel Jackson's character was an effort to strike a blow for...something? Equal rights for racists, perhaps? Authenticity in post Civil War relations in the Western States of America? It got tedious to hear characters refer to him constantly in that provocative way. And then there was the blood, lots of it and equally authentic we got to see heads explode, projectile blood vomiting and dismemberment. Be warned as if you needed any warning where Tarantino's name is involved. Actually the plot held together and the sets and the scenery were quite enthralling. The music by Ennio Morricone was a take off of the vast canvases spread by epics of the 60s and 70s and effective nonetheless. Another boy movie under my belt. Now back to movies with subtitles and gentle plots.

We ordered appetizers as you do and it turned out the menu was quite interesting MENU LINK. Check out this absurd and delicious soft pretzel Robert  ordered. Three dipping sauces and the ability to tear chunks like savages made this a particularly satisfying shared dish.

They use blackboards like they do downstairs. And downstairs was so busy on a weeknight there was an hour's wait. Winter sucks in the Florida Keys if you don't like waiting in line. The whole 420 thing does indeed refer to what you think, just as the name of the main eatery Square Grouper refers to the old time name for bales of marijuana smuggled in vast quantities into the Keys, once upon a time.

We stuck to more mundane food, sliders, and a rather decent soup which foods have become popular with this prolonged cold spell giving us cold nights and warm dry days.

It's a nice spot and people waiting for the main dining room downstairs are encouraged to come up here to spend time and money. Frankly I'd rather go to Bella Luna for a sit down dinner and come up here for assorted small plates. And that big bad pretzel.

And as always there is a tip of the hat to the fishing past.

That's the real fish, actual grouper maybe not the square ones. Not legal now nor likely to be in my lifetime in Florida.

College Road

I haven't paid much attention to College Road in a while and when I decided to turn off US 1 on Stock Island and take a turn I stopped in a few spots to check out what's changed and what hasn't.

The city incorporated the north half of Stock Island to facilitate the creation of the golf course and associated gated community so this odd semi-circular street called Colege Road gets a municipal sidewalk. In the photo above the Vespa is parked at the northernmost corner of the city of Key West - not that this spot gets a monument or even a city limit sign!

Coming into the city you will know when you have arrived at College Road when you see the big illuminated theater sign advertising concerts (even after they have happened) and musical performances at the city's biggest and plushest theater venue. Not on Duval either.

Don't bother turning in at the Golf Course unless you know someone who lives there or you have an easy line in bullshit. There is a gate guard and they will ask your destination. It's all built in the "Key West Style" by the developer of the Truman Annex which is open to visitors.

One reason to ride College Road is for the gentle curves, which taken at the limit of 25 whole miles an hour does nothing to give one the feel of riding a series of apexes.

College Road is handy for a small town surrounded by tidal waters. You can put a golf course here, extra housing, and why not, an emergency room? They don't have all the specialists one might want but they do have helicopter service for folks who need treatment in Miami. The cost of the private carrier is $50,000 per flight give or take as like all medical services offers no sensible estimated billing. The publicly funded Trauma Star plays back up to the private flight as city leaders are in thrall to the service that bankrupts citizens. Residents fly free on Trauma Star which makes the city's refusal to allow the county service bizarre and ruinous.

I realized as I took a very quick turn around Florida Keys Community that I should come back and take a long overdue look at the changes and the art at the place where I used to go to class.

I like the architecture, though there are rather too many tall blank walls mixed in with the elevated walkways and quirky porches hidden on campus. They even have a dormitory on campus now to ease the cost of housing in this over priced community.

Up the road again, past the elementary school we come to what is supposed to become a trash transfer station. Currently clean and modern and not yet open. This used to be a brilliant waste-to-energy plant producing lots of electricity for the city from garbage. It wore out and instead of building a new modern clean plant they scrapped it to haul trash two hundred miles (really!) to the Pompano Beach landfill. Another brilliant local ecological decision.

There's the Sheriff's headquarters, the jail, the homeless shelter and even a marina with condos...then there's the animal pound, Cheyenne's home for three weeks. Mosquito Control has offices here for now and there's the Botanical Gardens as well.

Busy place College Road, and then we are back at the lights, these are on the west end of the road at Highway One.

Turn right for Key West.

Posted with Blogsy

Cheyenne Sick

Yesterday was not a great day for Cheyenne but she is still alive so that's good. Last week her limp got worse and over the weekend her hind leg started ballooning and so Dr Edie came by to check on Cheyenne. That was when the afternoon spiraled badly out of control.

Suddenly the house call turned serious and it seemed most likely Cheyenne had bone cancer and there weren't any options for an old dog. I wasn't going for amputation and surgery in case seemed likely to kill her, quite aside from the fact that Cheyenne copes terribly on three legs. I carried her down to the car and drove to the hospital 5 miles away with tears streaming down my face. My wife left her job at Marathon making me promise Cheyenne would be alive to say good bye when she got to the Cruz Animal Hospital.

Dr Cruz, the kindly looking guy with the moustache ran his hand over her hind leg and made the exact same face Dr Edie did, like he had sucked on the world's most sour lemon. I insisted we do an x-ray, as much to give my wife time to arrive as anything. I figured Cheyenne was a goner and I said goodbye as they took her back to confirm the terminal diagnosis. 

 Dr Cruz came back shaking his head. "If I wasn't in the room I'd swear we got the wrong dog," he said in puzzlement. "Her bones are fine, no cancer at all. But look at this," he said pointing to a little white dot on the x-ray. "She was shot in the leg by an air gun." And there it was, on her perfectly formed leg bone a little white speck that had been there for years. They shaved her leg and could find no entry wound. 

They did a complete blood work on her and she was fine over all, no infection and slightly over worked kidneys owing to her recent drug regimen. What was wrong with her leg? Dr Cruz thought it was possibly a dickey lymph node but the tests proved nothing. Cheyenne lay on the table pretending she was in her happy place. My wife had arrived and suddenly everyone was happy even though the workers were staying after hours for us (and another dog in the room next door).

We took her home and I carried her up and started her pills. Hopefully they will get the swelling down and end the pain and allow Cheyenne to walk again. We go back next Tuesday and if the pain is still bad we will have to call it curtains for Cheyenne. That will be a right cheerful day and I can't think about it now. For the moment she is in a Tramadol haze and I hope the rest will allow the swelling to go down in the next few days.   

I know she's old and her days are numbered one way or another but I would like to see her lose a lot more interest in life before her life has to end. But as always it's not fair to listen to her pant in pain because I don't want to let her go. And I don't.

Here's hoping the leg gets it's shit together and heals, whatever it is, and Cheyenne stops panting in pain. My plan for my unusually single minded dog is that she gradually slip away and one fine morning she not wake up on a day of her choosing. I've not been that lucky yet with any dog, but we both deserve that kind of ending to our story.