Friday, March 09, 2012

Dog Days Dead Ahead

Other than a cop running over and killing a cyclist this week, other than a motorcyclist losing his arm and his life in another pretty savage wreck, other than a hundred near-misses on my own daily bike rides, nothing much doing among us two-wheeled fun seekers.  Not no excuse for no blogs, say you?

I want to apologize to you blogologists for my extreme tardiness in posting these past few weeks.  As that old saying goes about excuses and posterior orifices, everyone has one . . . and I am no exception.  At present, I am in the process of publishing one book and packaging two more.  When something wild and crazy happens on this island I promise to breathlessly report on it, pronto quicko.   Meanwhile. . . .

ChiHaHa—Walking on the beach last night at sundown with Disney dog straining at her leash, Michelle and I laughed when a “ferocious” Chihuahua ran down from where some imbibers were boozing it up.  From the sound of his bark and growl the tiny thing seemed bent on tearing us all limb from limb.  The yapping critter saw Disney stepping quietly on the beach and it was too much to resist, I guess; he just had to take the sniff test on another quadruped.  How many of you have not seen the same such similar thing?  A small pooch, seemingly crazed to break away and attack another dog . . . then, when the object of their mania is at hand and attainable, the canine becomes a total wimp, as quiet as a grave and as meek as milk.   Such was the case last night.  So funny.  Now t'was “Diz” that became the new aggressor and had to do some hard smelling of her own.  But Senor Pepe wussed out and retreated back to the booze hounds.  Of course, once safely up there he started his yapping again.


Island Items—‘Tis really strange how it can be raining cats and dogs over on the mainland yet remain as dry as a dead prospector’s canteen here on Old Manasota.  Although only a mile or two of Lemon Bay separates this sand pile from that mainland, one might think they exist in other worlds weather-wise.  Many a day I have seen black clouds just to the east dropping bucket loads of water on nearby Englewood while it is as dry as a prospector's bones at the bottom of a mineshaft over here.  Perhaps this is where the term “Desert Island” comes from?  No, I don't think so either.

Speaking of raining cats and Rottweilers:  I saw a monster “Rottie” today on my bike ride over at Englewood.  Fortunately for me, he was on a leash.  I have noticed that the mainland is the home of pitbulls and Rotts while the island is the home of Poms and Jack Russells.  The Rott that chased me the other night here on this island?  I have not seen that vicious sucker before or since and obviously he was “visiting” with his ever-so-sweet-natured owner.

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