It used to be that Dog Beach at Vernon and Waddell was the place to bring a dog. So, lacking a motorcycle I brought my gray Nissan Maxima instead. It really isn't the same so the sooner the Bonneville gets back the better.
I don't know who or why this handkerchief of beach was designated for dogs, but it was and it still is:
And when I say "handkerchief" that's exactly what I mean:
The sand is quite decent, and the palm trees make for a shady spot to hang out in, so, despite the size or lack of it, Dog Beach isn't an awful spot to hang on a hot afternoon. Especially if you are a dog:
Some dogs have the misfortune to be owned by dorks, like this guy who brings his dog to the dog beach but won't let the poor thing play:
So the energetic young thing gets to hang out with a listless bunch of humans:
It can be a busy spot, Dog Beach, with vehicles on the street...
...and of course, this being Key West, wepresent the the obligatory cyclist:
And a well patronised bicycle rack as well:
Not forgetting the eccentrically decorated van:
Out at sea the tourists were getting their rides aloft:
And up the street at Vernon and South I spotted a tableau featuring a collection of touring vehicles to be seen on many Key West streets:
Waddell Street by contrast was empty:
Well, not quite:
Waddell Street dead ends into a rather attractive little alley which is made of sand and reminds me of places typical to mainland Florida which unlike the Keys, is made of sand:
But back to the point of the essay,this is a dog beach though it's not the only one these days. There is a fenced in run for dogs at Higgs Beach and across from that, between the White Street Pier and the West Martello tower (home of the Garden Club) dogs are allowed to run on the beach. Water access is a bit awkward as there is a seawall there but the beach area is open to dogs, on that county operated beach.
And once the dog is walked my wife says the tapas at Louie's Backyard right next door are excellent.
Prices at Louie's make my nose bleed but she says sunsets there are excellent.I doubt the dogs would care much one way or the other. 
It has happened again, and I got invited out to dinner by a dude who reads the blog.
Marybeth and her husband Keith cornered the wife and I at El Siboney and forced us to accept their hospitality, so under their protective wing I was able to order the breaded and fried palomilla steak and boiled yucca.
It's hard to starve at El Siboney so my wife and I usually share an order but for some reason she was feeling expansive so she ordered a Siboney steak which comes with shredded parsley, Keith got stuck into a plate of fried pork chunks, hard core Cuban fare and Marybeth took the restrained route following my wife's lead. El Siboney does not overflow with decorative warmth as it were:
Keith and Marybeth live in the mountains of Colorado but vacation frequently in Key West where Keith was stationed in the 1970s. It's the rare visitor to Key West that takes an interest in the past but Keith is one of those and he enjoys organizing himself around the book Streets of Key West, that I quote from. Marybeth got stuck in with my wife and I was happy to let those two do their thing.
Keith watched me whip out my little canon SX100 and said: "You take your pictures with that?" as I swiveled in my chair to catch a patron involved in enjoying her food:
If we ever get a revolution around here text messaging will be the first thing I vote to ban. However the crass younger generation did not set the tone for the whole place. Some people were visiting this Key West institution to enjoy what El Siboney is famous for, low prices and excellent Cuban cooking: 
I also took a sneak shot, in the style of A Scooter in Turkey, with rather sneak-shot results, so I will need to perfect the technique apparently:
We nattered on for hours it seemed like, time enough to have a Cuban custard, natilla, and coffee, but as I was going to work Keith sank the Presidente beer by himself. El Siboney has moved into the 20th century and now takes credit cards. I rather seem to think it has been doing that for a while but I have got into the groove of paying cash when I eat there: 
I hope when they return next year they will take up the offer to stop by our house and see how the rubes live in the country outside the metropolis. Rather to my surprise they took me upon my offer of the nickel tour of the police station so I have high hopes we shall meet again. Perhaps with pictures of Key West as was.
I like eating out at El Siboney, despite the restaurant's sale a few years ago the place hasn't changed one bit. It's still slightly funky, particular and very neighborhood oriented.
We weren't the only people hanging out happily at 900 Catherine Street.
You know it's summer around here because the air gets thicker, the clouds get thicker and the saltwater gets warmer, above 80 degrees (27C). That water temperature is the indicator that tells me when we are in hurricane season. Hurricanes use the energy in warm water to power up and until water temperatures reach 80 degrees there isn't enough energy usually, to get the storms going.
So early and late season hurricanes (normally the season runs June 1 to November 30th in the Atlantic basin) tend to form in the Western Caribbean where the waters warm up ahead of the main Atlantic Ocean and stay warm later into winter. Meanwhile we learn to live with and enjoy the bright white heat intensity of summer sunshine:
I like the colors of summer, defined for me by the green of the vegetation in various shades, the blue of the sky and the puffy white clouds that grow dark as they bring the promise of rain. That's another great virtue of living in South Florida, the rainy season comes when it is warm.
I spent too many winters dreading the onset of California's viciously cold winter rainy season which turn dust into mud and sidewalks into streams. Of course it'snothing compared to the cold dark winters of the Far North but I hated winters in cold damp coastal California. Winters in the Keys are a time of occasional cold but the low tempoeratures rarely last more than a few days at a time and rain is light in the winter, a few drops fall as the cold front arrives. I can enjoy the drama of summer wtorms when the temperatures are hovering above 80 degrees.
The heat of summer is, I find, less oppressive in the islands than it is on the mainland, due no doubt to the water surrounding the Keys. Supposedly that also helps keep winter temperatures a little warmer than the rest of South Florida. Which of course suits me. Besides if there are sugar apples growing there's not much wrong with where you live. At least I'm pretty sure this is a soursop nestled in a halo of sunlight:
I mentioned in another recent essay that there is a realty company soliciting bids on homes and I found another such sign on Thomas Street:
I'm not sure about this "make an offer" stuff but it all comes down to two of my favorite colors for the time of year, blue and white.
We piled into Josh's modern comfortable Nissan Altima, a fine automobile but not as splendid as my aging Maxima, loyalty to inanimate machines seems misplaced yet obligatory to me, and we drove north with Josh at the wheel:
I was delighted to be the passenger in the rear seat, an unusual place for me to be and I took full advantage of the opportunity to look out the windows and fully enjoy the views that can only be snatched when operating the vehicle. First stop: Arby's in Key Largo for roast beast sandwiches for brunch. Josh is from Texas you see, and he lives a deprived life with Lisa so he was salivating at the thought of a mountain of beef and bacon wedged between buns. "No lettuce, no tomatoes," he groaned in anticipation, a sentiment I shared as my wife keeps me on a culinary short leash too. They also had something called curly fries which bore the faintest relation to potatoes but appeared to have been cooked in lard which gave them extra calories with the extra taste. I was even more happy to take a back seat and burp quietly to myself for the final leg of the trip to the mainland.
The range is a family affair with Papi burning cordite while los ninos play nearby in the jungle gym.
We the novices, made it back from the casino in time for the safety lecture and were awarded our range cards for unimpeded future visits. It costs $9 to shoot your weapon here which is a bargain in the world of entertainment and it was great fun. Lisa, eat your Seattle-raised heart out.
The shotgun wasn't the weapon of choice for my comrades in arms but they promised to retrieve hand guns currently in storage along with a "proper" rifle for future use. Being as how I'm not a physicist I was quite happy to pop off a few slugs (no buckshot at the fixed target range) and hope they travelled more or less in the direction of the paper target. The scientists in the party spent some time lamenting the absence of rifling in a shotgun and they spent some happy time arguing lobbed trajectories and stuff I didn't quite get.
It was a gray drizzly sort of day at the range, and it happens quite frequently that a bright sunny day in the Keys turns into a rainy summer day on the mainland. This was a good spot to be on a rainy day though, as the shooting portion of the range is under cover:
The rules at the range are strict but simple enough to follow- no naked weapons behind the red line, 
no concealed weapons on your person, and get help if you have a misfire or if you need assistance to clear a jammed gun. For the rest the loudspeaker told us when it was time to shoot and when it was safe to walk out and check our targets. It was mighty civilized:
They even had a dude out there with a dustpan and brush to keep their place tidy what will all that spent ammunition flying around:
And there were tons of empty casings lying around as we weren't a.lone at the range:
This guy was shooting with an intensity and calm purpose that we all noticed and talked about later. We were speculating that perhaps he still hadn't got over the surrender in 1975, but who knows really. He was obviously very experienced and I hope I got some good tips from watching him at work:
Now the smell of cigarettes was overlaid with the smell of gun smoke in my seersucker shirt and that wasn't the end of the boy's day out. Scott is planning a cross country trip on his Kawasaki KLR 650 so we had camping gear to seek out and buy, Josh had cigars to pick up so I beat them at dominos while they puffed on the poisonous weed. We ate more fried food and drank beer and eventually pointed the wheels towards home.
I was half passed out in the back of the car as the two front seat riders spent a happy few hours bickering their way home. They discussed their personalities, the value of science in every day life, memories of childhood and they stropped a couple of times for more food as our dinner of Peruvian food hadn't quite filled them up. 
It was for me quite the unusual day, not at all like going shopping in Miami with my wife.