Rusty The Hunter

He smelled an iguana hiding in the grass. Before Hurricane Irma the place was overrun by iguanas but they lost a lot of habitat and now it's coming back their population seems to be growing as well, worse luck. They are terrible predators with no natural enemies.

 He knew it was there somewhere.

 He traced it to the gap underneath the power pole, a perfect hiding spot. Rusty worried at the space from different angles for quiet a while.

When his back was turned I saw a bright green streak slip out and dive silently into the bushes. Rusty never saw a thing.

He used to be a fierce hunter but regular food as much as he wants has dulled the edge of his killer instinct these days.

I think once upon a time he survived by eating what he caught. These days his life is a good bit softer. No regrets.

Last Walk

My wife suggested we drive to Old Bahia Honda for one more dog walk before she took off for California by way of a hotel in Fort Lauderdale. We avoid the Miami airport where possible as the slightly smaller facility at Fort Lauderdale, a mere thirty minutes further north is much friendlier and easier to use.

 I turned on some filters to add drama to what I was seeing in this very familiar place.

 After a short while my wife turned back and Rusty and I were on our own. Not that he noticed:

 He was busy playing at being Tigger running and chasing.

 In the distance the brown Fiat 500 pulled out into the traffic and in an instant was out of sight.

I listed in my head the chores I have to do, alone for the time being.

Holidays And Fireworks

It is a bit odd finding yourself in the Keys during a holiday when everyone around you has time off and you are just living the usual routine. The worst parts involve too much traffic which is normal in summer during national days off, but then also WiFi inexplicably slows down and all those usually empty houses suddenly fill up and urchins are suddenly throwing a ball around on my normally silent as the grave suburban street. Rusty and I took off for a little while to get away from it all. 

Rusty doesn't handle thunderstorms too well. He has got over his fear of rain which must have been a dreadful burden when he was living on the streets, but the clap of thunder strikes terror in him. That and fireworks are enough to send him into a panic. Thee again his fear is reasonable enough considering he watched his whole pack get shot or poisoned by the rather callous farmers of the Redlands of Homestead who take out their frustration on people dumping dogs by pursuing and shooting the strays. I look at Rusty and wonder at the horrors he has seen, and then I wonder how even keeled he is after all that.

The good news is that when he hears those noises he runs too me and not away so that's a good thing. With my wife out of town for two weeks visiting friends in California and his usual house sitters,both sets of them also out of town I was stumped as to what to do with him the night of the Fourth, firework night. So I got permission to bring him to work ad then I had to figure how to get him out of the house as the neighborhood erupted into loud bangs and cracks as everyone got busy exploding gunpowder.

Much to my surprise he meekly got up and followed me as I made my way out of the house and followed him downstairs. He jumped in the car and lay flat on the back seat. I guess he really does trust me. At the police station he pawed at the door to be let in and flew upstairs to dispatch where he said hello to everyone and then settled on the floor in the most soundproof room in the city. He snored the night away in his bed, no trouble at all. Usually he is fine staying home alone all night but with no one to look after him I couldn't figure out what else to do. Thank god for another little bit of help at work. 

With my wife away I get some quality time with Rusty. At least that's what I tell myself as I dust and vacuum and do the laundry. Life goes on pretty much the same but he is always glad to see her when she gets back. I am surprised by how even tempered he is but I guess anything is better than his previous life. And he does enjoy being free to come and go as he pleases.

Afternoons are good for a swim on these boiling hot one hundred degree afternoons. I find the warm canal waters delightful though some heathens say they prefer cooler waters. When my legs were weaker I devised an angled approach into the water by buying a twenty foot ladder at ACE Hardware in Summerland and dropping it at an angle into the canal. Brilliant! I like using it so much more than the vertical, barnacle encrusted steps of the permanent vertical dock ladder that I shall continue to use my garden ladder, pulling it out between swims to keep sea growth away.

Swimming does an amazing job of limbering up my formerly broken knee and reducing the pain in my pelvis and thighs. My wife is an inveterate swimmer but I find I have a strong incentive to get in the water now and do my leg exercises even though she is away for two weeks.

And then of course as the sun sets and temperatures drop Rusty and I head out for another walk along shady trails where he won't burn his paws. He was tired on the way back and I stood next to him as he sank down into the grass half way back to the car. I was dripping sweat but even after an hour my legs weren't hurting hardly at all. These exceptionally hot days are taking it out of all of us.

Ghost Sighting

I don't normally discuss my religious beliefs because...who cares? So if I mention here and now that I don't have any religious or spiritual beliefs I only say that because it has some relevance to the photos that follow and as you can see already, we are back in the Key West cemetery, and this time there is something weird I am offering you for your consideration. I have friends who make a habit of going out around town ghost hunting. I went once and saw and felt nothing so I treat their fun as just that, a hobby like stamp collecting or photography. Good on them.                                               

I have seen pictures of shapes and shadows before and I have heard the ghost stories told by professional story tellers around town. If you have visited Key West you might well have gone on a ghost tour, and if you haven't you should as they are full of history and great fun. The photograph below was taken by my colleague Kristi when she was out with several other people looking for ghosts in the cemetery. She took this hand held night picture with her Nikon as she says phone cameras don't work as well when ghost hunting. Considering it was night and a hand held picture she got an astonishing amount of detail. By now you will have looked into the red circle she added and I hope you have drawn your own conclusions.

At first glance I saw a dog looking at the people walking by but you can also see what looks to me something like a gryphon...I can only say for sure that Kristi doesn't make stuff up and this is very real to her and I assure you she isn't joking or trying to be a smartass. Whether there is a natural or scientific explanation for the shadow I can't say. I'd like to think there is because like I said earlier I have no belief in ghosts or an afterlife. There is also the white streak of light on the left hand side of the picture which is a little odd as nothing else in the picture shows similar motion. Anyway there it is.

You have to admit the cemetery is a wonderfully picturesque place for ghost stories with all the above ground tombs and mixture of decay and  restoration. For me cemeteries represent history and I have never felt ghostly presences there or anywhere else in my life. I wish when I had my accident last August my out of body experience could have offered me a definitive answer as to what happens when one dies, and if I had an answer I would not be shy about sharing it with you but as far as I can tell your guess is as good as mine. I saw neither heaven nor hell, no angles or dead family members though I do remember hoping to see my several previous dogs who pre-deceased me. No luck there either though if I had seen anything I most likely would not have been brought back by the paramedics! So we live on in uncertainty.

Key West has lots of these stories, it's part of the fabric of the city, certainly an element of tourism as I explained but it is also part of the culture of the Conch community, the people born and brought up in Key West. Cuban coffee, fishing and ...ghost stories.  There is said to be a ghost in the Key West police station, a modern building built two decades ago on a mangrove swamp said to be the scene of a drowning.

Anyway there is supposed to be a Victorian woman dressed in black who wanders the halls of the police department. I did think I saw a figure one night walking through a doorway out of sight as I walked a corridor. I was not sure of what I had glimpsed if anything but I can say I have never had any spooky feelings walking around the police station late at night. I have been working night shift for most of my 15 years and most nights there is no one but three dispatchers in the building with the officers on patrol. I've been here during hurricanes and never have I ever been spooked in the building, which is locked and secure. I should add. 

Maybe there are ghosts all around us but I remain unconvinced even if I have no good explanations for either incident I have written about here. Ghosts make good stories all the same. 

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.