Rusty, February 2016

Meet Rusty  21st February 2016

The past ten days have been agony, pure and simple. It started by saying goodbye to Cheyenne and it ended by bringing home a funny little dog who bears the burden of being asked to fill the hole in my heart left by the departure of the most extraordinary dog I have known. Oddly enough I think this little bundle of love is up to the challenge.

Rusty's life, all four years of it approximately, has sucked. This picture is from October last year when a Homestead woman who feeds strays in her neighborhood spotted this street dog. From what can be gleaned Rusty, formerly known as Bobo lived on the streets of an area known as Redlands, the agricultural heart of South Florida. Also where you go to dump your dog, apparently. Yet this little reddish-brown dog is astonishingly even tempered, loving and ready to fit in to a "normal" suburban life. Why people buy dogs beats me. Found dogs live out their lives in gratitude and make the best companions. You too can pick up a cat or dog that could light up your home. LINK.

I was rather nervous making my way alone to a giant mainland mall to find a dog. My wife got in touch with this woman representing a group of volunteers who madly enough find and rescue and foster hopeless dogs and cats and they make them whole. After my hopeless sadness at the Key West and Marathon SPCA and dealing with the rejectionists walking into Petco at noon yesterday was like nothing really.

I knew it was him immediately. He was smaller and thinner than I expected but he sat there in the crowd, serene as though he knew that today was the day. I lost the ability to take photographs for a while as I juggled paper pen, leash, emotions and strangers which as we all know give me hives. Bobo was fine in the middle of it all.

I signed, Lissa injected a microchip - no really, right in front of me- and I was officially driving home with a completely unfamiliar dog.

I don't think Rusty had ever spent three hours in the car- and that only got us as far as the Publix in Marathon where I completely lost my head and forgot to buy milk. But the entire week has been like that and taking 911 calls has been a trial in the Cheyenne fog I have been stuck in. Traffic on a Saturday afternoon sucked of course but Rusty only got up and protested mewling a couple of times. Mostly he just laid down on the back seat and let me drive.

At Publix he was ready to get out of the car and I put him on my (Cheyenne's) extenda-leash and off we went. There's a crazy old guy who hangs out behind Publix, a stray human as it were...Rusty is just sweet. Look at him with a stranger. He sat down and said pet me but the old guy was off on cloud nine:

Rusty is full of curiosity. Arriving home he trotted back and forth checking stuff out, and getting him up the stairs was a trial as he could see the void through the stairs. It took a couple of trips but he got the stairs down pat. The dog door through the sliding door held him up for 15 seconds but then he had the run of the house and the deck and when he gets reliable he'll have the yard as well. Only after we feel safe taking down the dog gate that closes off the stairs. He found the spot where Cheyenne died and his attention to it inspired me, the curmudgeon, to imagine the baton was being passed between dog generations.

I miss her so much and have to guard against my memories of perfection interfering with my expectations of what is a remarkable dog. Rusty is on his way and finding his place, and the more I see of him the more I like him. I hate to think how many other wonderful animals are bring abandoned. I want them all.

If he doesn't get used to her bed we'll replace it but it is the most comfortable dog bed I've ever seen.

JW says Rusty won the lottery, but I feel like I did.
Thanks to these good people for the chance LINK.

People Of Little Hamaca

It seemed obvious to me when I brought Rusty to the city park by the airport that he wanted more so we had to come back.

 We walked the boardwalk out to the Riviera Canal where I played silly buggers with the camera and reflections in the water:

 Then  with a filter:

 While I did mine Rusty did his thing:

 Happy dog:

 On the way out I saw a man with a music stand in the shade of the trees and I decided against my better judgement to turn around and see what's what. Daniel was surprised when I asked him about his music but he explained he is a beginner on alto sax and needs to leave the house to practice. He grew up in Israel but moved to New York before Key West. Apparently Israeli musicians aspire to come to the States to perfect their Art and Daniel has decided he too can become a musician with much effort and a great deal of practicing of his scales. He  will let me record him when his skills have improved.

I've seen this guy before with a herd of white dogs running him ragged. I called out to him one doesn't often see shepherds in Key West and he smiled and waved as he dashed off to round up stray sheep. I photographed them in the wing mirror as they scattered away in the distance.

Sammy Creek

Morning at Sammy Creek on the south shore of Sugarloaf Key.

  A lovely park on land donated by the family that used to own a house here. 

 Hurricane Irma left it's mark here too, many dead trees and bushes with inextricable trash washed up:

 Lovely skies above dead trees that give a wintry air to a 90 degree day:

 Rusty and I alone but for a black racer, a harmless and beneficial snake sunning itself inoffensively:

Wildlife

My recent foray into the cemetery netted me a few pictures of cemetery wildlife, Key West style:

 Their habitat:

 Families that peck together, stay together:

 Not all birds are chickens:

 Not all wildlife is birds:

 Some flying predators are simply on a flight path:

 Brought to you by Key West property moguls:

Old Bahia Honda

I get to see a great many sunrises around here as I my shift ends at six am and I am home being assaulted by my dog promptly at 6:30 am, and who expects in return to be taken on a walk. So when my wife was at a family reunion and I had no one to hold us back I took Rusty to the old Bahia Honda rail bridge to watch the sun go down.

Or, more accurately to admire the effects of the setting sun on the landscape. This bridge has been around for 107 years but the state of decay is such I wonder how much longer it will last. It could have made a fine bicycle path.

 This was Rusty's third walk of the day - I get bored when my wife isn't home, what can I say?

And he was busy tracking iguanas, a few of whom have survived the devastation brought about by Hurricane Irma which wrecked their habit and killed most of their food.

Rusty used to be a determined hunter when I first got him three years ago but the life of the idle rich housed dog has blunted his killer instinct and these days he likes to trace smells but actually chasing iguanas is a little too jejune for such an elder statesman. He enjoys watching them scuttle and he will pursue them languidly just to show he  is still able. But his heart isn't in it.

 Sunset stillness on the water:

While he lived on the streets of Homestead chased by angry farmers and shot at, pursed by larger dogs and beaten up he survived by his wits and his ability to catch dinner, until the nice ladies of the dog rescue put out food for him. Nowadays his life is a bit different.

 Mine is too as he requires a fair bit of exercise.

We stumped back to the car and  sat there by ourselves watching the darkness encroach until another car pulled up. 

That  fence has only just gone up but I have a library of pictures from many many walks taken up to the edge, including with Cheyenne of fond memory:

                                                              

The occupant was a former park ranger at Fort Jefferson and we talked as one tends to, about hurricanes as we looked at the devastation caused by Irma. How green it was here before September 2017:

 

The ranger enjoyed taking cover at his work site where they had water and electricity and thick brick walls to keep the storm at bay. Now he lives in Big Pine enjoying retirement and exposed to the storms' fury. Rusty listened intently.

 And so we wait for another hurricane season to pass and to leave us alone. Enjoying the sunsets as we go.