Entranced at Ren Fest

Last night the Hunter's Moon shone brightly as it arced across the great black canopy of night. Its hue cascaded over the clouds as if pouring pixie dust across the land. The edges of the moon were swimming in translucent rings that faded as the luminescent orb climbed ever higher into the sky. I could almost hear the cadence of the hoof beats falling upon the earth kicking up dirt and leaving a trail into the wilds of the lands beyond the horizon.
The riders, with hounds in stride, made for the distant hunting grounds in search of their prey... their sustinence. What do they talk about on the way? I wonder. Do they discuss strategies for bringing down their quarry? Do they speak of their lives and their loves. Do they partake in tales of passion or betrayal? Perhaps they spin fantastic stories of great hunters of yore.
Meanwhile, as the frost tickles the noses of the great Ursa in the north, he rushes to eat his fill of berries and what fish may be left to catch. With a swipe of his mighty paw, a struggling salmon flutters his fins and writhes one last time before its head is crushed under Ursas jaws. Before long, nature's banquet will close.

...all this from one glance at our moon. One cannot think of the night without the moon nor can I think of the moon without thinking of the mysterious past that moon has witnessed. This weekend past, I visited some of this history. And oh what a visit it was....

It started off innocently enough. A group of travelers assembled for a journey into the lands of wonder & merriment known as the Texas Renaissance Festival. "Hip Hip... Hazah" echoed through my mind as the time for departure neared.

I am reminded of one of my favorite expressions... "There's many a slip twixt a cup and a lip." And were there ever slips! The first was a sudden "pop" followed by the sound of shattered glass falling to the ground. We were loading vehicles and talking about travel plans when one of our travel companions leaned onto the glass of an open window in my truck and the glass couldn't support the pressure, so it popped and shattered. Our departure was delayed by a few minutes as we collected shards of glass from the seat and floor of my truck. My thoughts went from "Hip Hip... Hazah" to "Hip Hip... oh boy!" I guess it didn't matter much at that point, I don't have a working a/c anyway.

DEPARTURE

After a pit stop at the ATM (nothing like technology to enhance a trip into the past) we made our way to the rendevous point. My co pilot and I pulled off the road at a designated spot to meet the others. We were the first ones there. About 2 minutes after we arrived, an unexpected visitor befell us... from behind... with colorful lights spinning in quick circles. Two ambulating beings dressed in like uniforms (a little more of the modern world to see us off on our journey) walked up to the side of my truck. "May I see you drivers license and proof of insurance, please?" he asked in a tongue familiar to my ears. We weren't in the old world yet. We were still trying to escape this one. hehe
Apparently our exit from the freeway and pulling over on the side of an empty road aroused enough curiosity to warrant an inquiry into our activities. All was well, he was just checking things out. We explained we are going camping and waiting to meet our companions. Good thing he didn't ask to search the gear. I can't begin to imagine the mess that would have left. It took the better part of a whole evening just to cram everything into the boxes. I'd hate to have to do it again... on the side of the road.

My travel companion, of the female persuasion, was able to laugh with me, while eliciting the occasional honk from passersby as she stood in the road making adjustments to her shorts. I suppose that would look interesting if I were driving by at 70 mph too. Its a small wonder no one slammed on the brakes to get a closer look. Once we were assembled we made our way off. I couldn't help but wonder what hiccup lay ahead of us next.

ROAD TRIP

Much of the trip was uneventful. When traveling, "uneventful" is a good thing. That is until we hit the toll way in Houston. This was one of those days where I wished I had kept my mouth shut. "Its quicker to take the toll road." I said. It sounded like a great idea... at the time. Of course by the time we got to the camp grounds, I realized I forgot the salt and pepper... you know... for my foot. A foot in the mouth is more palatable with some spice. :-)

After a bit of confusion as to where other members of the travel party were we finally made it to the camp site.

HOW WE FARED AT THE FAIREST FAIRE

That first night all but I went to the bon fire to partake in the drumming, dancing, and festivities. No, I wasn't being grumpy. I just needed to unwind a little. Some down time was in order. I enjoyed a nice cigar and scribed a few pages in my journal. I could hear the rythm of the drums in the distance and the faint glow of a fire just up yonder. After a while I retreated into my ipod and finished my cigar. I wished that I had rememebred to bring my drum. Oh well, I figured on buying another one the next day anyway.

I didn't sleep in a tent. I brought one... well, two actually, but one was borrowed from friends that, sadly, were unable to join us. :-( But mine was donated to a worthy cause... a girl that had never been camping before. Who was I to deny the camping virgin a little bit of solitude behind the material walls of a tent? At least for her first time. :-)
So I made up my bed in my truck. It was quite cozy.... except for one thing....

...all the DAMN YELLING!!! There was a group of college aged 3rd graders arguing, cursing, and apparently slapping and head butting. This carried on for about 3 hours. But I managed to get some sleep after all.

The next day we went to the fair and the first thing I did was buy a new drum. I called it my Goldilocks Drum. I already have a drum a little bigger and one a bit smaller, now this one was just in the middle. And what a drum it is! Wonderful tone. I couldn't wait until that night. I planned on attending the fire that night and bringing my drum along... of course!

For me, most of the excitement came that night. I thoroughly enjoyed taking in the sights and the shows, but all day I was thinking about that night. You see, the last time I camped at the Ren Fest, there was no bon fire. There were no fires at all. Now, the campgrounds looked like a scene from some war movie where armies were camping out.

During the day our group split up and went several different ways. But we gathered again for the fireworks. Its always a spectacle. After the show I made my way to the gate, picking up my new drum as I passed the store where I bought it. Ever so eager my fingers tapped anxiously at the skin as I walked.

ON INTO THE TRANCE

Upon returning to the camp site we commenced with the preparing of dinner. Spaghetti was on the menu. I had a small problem, though. I was accustomed to tossing the spaghetti onto the ceiling to see if it was ready. No ceiling. Hence the problem. So I improvised. I tossed it onto myself. It stuck to my chest nicely. :-) Of course just about anything would stick to my velcro. If its good enough for me... its good enough for them. No one complained about the extra salt.
:-)

Shortly after eating, with my drum in tow, we made our way toward the sounds of beating drums and the noises of a collected crowd of people. I was becomming more excited with every step. As we approached the crowd, the fire was far smaller than what I thought it would be. By the size of the crowd you'd think there was a house burning... at least a shed. hehe

Apprehensive at first, I plopped down near the back edge where I could find some room on a log to sit. Gradually I tapped my drum as I was figuring the beat. I was a bit shy, but began playing a little more forcefully as I found the rythm. After a little while my friends called out to me. They had a spot for me closer to the center. After a short gulp, I squirmed my way toward their voices. I settled in near a few drummers and I had a bit of a view of the fire. There were some people dancing, mostly girls. I'm not complaining.

As my hands warmed and my confidence grew I began to play a little louder. It was noticed. A few of the dancers moved toward me a little. One of the challenges here is the sheer number of drummers trying to keep a steady beat. You'd think it was easy...

I wriggled my way closer to a guy, to whom I'd introduce myself, who was playing rather well. I followed his rythm and together we seemed to draw a few people toward us. Soon thereafter another young drummer joined us and followed our beat. The mood shifted a little as the rythm caught on... for a little while anyway.

I found my groove. We had a nice flow going, Rick & I, that is. A few more guys scooted toward us and we scooted a little more toward center. I was getting the hang of this. At one point, one of my friends was calling out to me trying to get my attention. He pointed out there were girls dancing topless around the fire. I would have to be extremely focused on something to miss that! But I cought a glimpse or two. Sorry folks... I was into the rythm.

Then came the pinnacle of the night for me. There was a brief lull in the drumming. Drummers were drinking water or beer, or whatever was nearby, rubbing their hands and taking some deep breaths. So I started up again.... forcefully and with confidence. It took about a minute then Rick picked up my beat. Then another and shortly thereafter all drummers took my beat in.... that's right... MY beat. It may not be a big deal.. but at that moment... at that point in time in this vast universe I started a wave and hundreds of people were riding it! Yeah baby... and the beat went on.... and on.... feverishly I played that drum tirelessly. I wasn't about to give up the beat. People were playing, dancing all in unison to a rythm that I established. I was entranced. My arm was on fire for a while but I did not yield. Sweat saturated my shirt and kilt. I would not stop. There was a crowd of girls dancing all around me... their skirts and hair brushing my skin. I could barely look up... I was so engrossed in my drumming I wanted nothing to distract me. I had to keep the beat. I had to know that I could. And that, my friends is what it was about. I had to know that I could! And I did!

At one point a strange woman jammed a bottle in front of my face offering to pour me a drink while I continued to drum, but I refused.... no distractions, remember? Besides.... "Who are you and what the hell is in that bottle?" No thanks. I could see the headlines now... "Scottish wannabe found in the woods with kilt around his ankles and drum between his legs" Enquiring minds want to know!

Folks, I know this is a long entry. But if you are still with me, then thank you!

Most of our group have dispersed by now. One remained with me. The mood kind of faded when we were constantly asked to stop drumming and move farther back. So a small contigent of us moved beyond the arc of the large circle and kept drumming, but to our own rythm now. There were too many drummers in the center trying to be soloists. Its OK though, I had my moment!

I looked over to my friend who was sticking around and he looked tired. He looked like he was drumming because he had to now. He suggested calling it a night. And I agreed. I was quite reluctant to stop. I wanted to experience that "feeling" again. What a rush it was. So we departed and hobbled back to the camp site. We were tired. My hands were very warm. I was worried that I would be sore the next day. I half expected my fingers to swell into stubby little sausages, but they didn't. I was quite surprised to find that I was fine in the morning. My elbow was a bit sore, but not to the point where it hurt.

ANOTHER DAY AT THE FAIRE

The second day was less eventful. It was more tranquil. I donned "regular" clothes. My kilt was so damp from the night before and the humid morning I decided against wearing it again. As a result, I was the one taking the pictures that day as opposed to being in them. Oh well. :-)

We took in a little more sweet food this time. Perhaps to replenish what we spent the previous day. We left the park by 2:30. We packed up slowly and gradually made our way toward Houston and on toward home. But we weren't there yet.

WHEN A COKE ISN'T A COKE

On our way out of Magnolia we made a pit stop for some road food and gas. I felt the need for a sweet carbonated beverage while the gas was filling. So I make my way over to the soda machine (of which I am notoriously distrustful). I usually avoid beverage dispensing machines.
But I figured that I wanted to get my drink and get on the road as quickly as possible. All the while, my travel buddy was stuffing her face while amusing herself at my shenanigans.

I put my dollar bill in the machine followed by two dimes. The dimes didn't register. Nor did they fall through the coin return. I told the clerk about the dimes and he seemed confused about how to proceed. So he came out to the machine and looked at it sternly. "I tried that already" I told him. So he offered to refund my dimes. But that wouldn't help me get a coke. I still had my dollar in there. Dollar bills don't generally fall through the coin return.

So he gave me a quarter. At first I thought "What about my dollar" then it dawned on me that he was giving me the quarter to put in the machine... duh! :-)
So I did and the money registered. I breathed a small sigh of relief as I pressed the "Coke" button. I waited a moment as I heard the gentle rumble of something happening inside. But still no soda. Then the "Sold Out" light came on. Figures. So I pressed the next one. Same result. Then I pressed the third and last "Coke" button. I heard the gears and the machine sounded like it was finally going to surrender its booty. Just as I began to smile at the thought of a cold coke washing down my throat (while my sandwich is marinating in mustard, mind you) my soda appears.

It was a Sprite.

So that, my friends, is my tale.

In honor of the Hunter's Moon and the drumming and dancing of this weekend past, I leave you with this video. It called "The Hunt". Enjoy.

Be well.

Popcorn by cell phone...

Ok... for you cell phone junkies.... do you believe this?

Pop Corn téléphone portable micro-ondes
Uploaded by sassiere

Score One for Love

Oh boy... he's talking about love.
That ill defined, yet most desired of (perhaps) all things. I've always believed that love is truly peculiar in that in order to have it, you must give it away. It isn't something you can control. That is where people have so much trouble with it. You can't control it. Don't believe anyone that says they can control their feelings.

So what brought this on? Well, I'll tell ya... another movie. I like movies (can you tell?)
Tonight I watched a pleasantly surprising flick... its a bit older (1999), but its a gem, The Other Sister. I don't know why I didn't hear of this when it was out, but its great. What I like about it is its purity. Its a portrayal of honest to goodness innocent love. Sure, we've all seen romantic comedies and those feel-good-for-now love stories. But this story endures.

The basic premise is a young woman, Carla, played my Juliette Lewis, whose protected upbringing and mental illness have denied her some basic experiences and emotions. Through her tenacity, she explores the one that changes her life... love. The movie doesn't specify on the illness. And that is critical to the story... because it allows for the audience to focus on Carla... not on her illness. The filmakers did a great job in avoiding "labels" for people with MI (Mental Illness).

MI, my friends, is something I can talk about. I spent about 10 years working in the mental health field. I've done everything from mopping the floors in a mental hospital to performing psychological/social assessments and providing preliminary diagnoses. I learned so much from my experience there. One of the things I learned, is that society doesn't want to view people with MI as individuals so much as a walking diagnosis. That is what people do... we put things in categories. The world works better for us that way. We have to put things in a framework for our minds to grasp. We all carry around a box that is comfortable for us to carry. Each person has a unique box. And we have to put the world in this box. But it has to fit. So if something doesn't quite fit, we cram it in any way we can. The problem becomes self evident here... there are always flaws in our box designs, but we would rather stuff everything into our existing box rather than redesign it.
This movie avoids that....thankfully!

Giovanni Ribisi and Juliette Lewis did a good job. I don't want this to be a critique of the movie. This is me telling you folks to watch it if you want to laugh and cry and feel good. Carla's mom is trying to protect her daughter from the hazards of the world, but is learning to respect and appreciate her daughter as an individual. The mother worries about all these things that Carla can't do. But one of my favorite parts in the movie is when Carla tells her mom that she may not be able to play tennis or draw or do any number of things that other people can, but she can love. And she can be loved. Therein lies the heart of this tale.

There is a danger to this film, however. It might lead one to believe that love will conquer all. In truth, it will, but not always the way we hope.

In an effort to avoid a lengthy diatribe, I will just plug in this video montage of The Other Sister.
If you get a chance to love...
We should be so lucky :-)

Be well

Let the Music Move You

My mind has been churning. The last few weeks my thoughts have been so wrapped up in school and getting organized & settled, that my personal musings have been suppressed. But now that I'm starting to fall into (something resembling) a routine, my thoughts have accelerated.

Recently there has been considerable discussion on favorites. Favorite movies, books, characters, teachers, etc... Inevitably the focus becomes favorite music, bands, genre, musicians, etc. This is probably the hardest thing for me to nail down. My mood plays a role in determining what I like at the time. So there is no stand out favorite for me.

Now with books, I can tell you hands down, my all time favorite book (some will be surprised it isn't LOTR) is Watership Down by Richard Adams. I would even put The Hobbit before LOTR, and even The Unlikely Ones by Mary Brown. Women would probably like this more than guys. More about relationships and judgment and less about blood and guts. However, overall I would have to say that LOTR has had the greatest influence on me over the course of my life when taking the books, the movies, and Dungeons & Dragons into account. But I digress.

Back to music.
There are several artists that I have followed consistently over the years. My most enduring favorite would have to be Meat Loaf. Yup. I liked his stuff since I was in Jr. High. We didn't have "Middle Schools". His music, or more precisely, Jim Steinman's music, whose lyrical penning launched Meat Loaf into international fame.
But Meat Loaf's performances are all his. They were a fantastic combination. And over the years they have consistently captured unique perspectives on our lives. And they delivered that perspective with stunning pageantry at times. That is not say that I haven't come to love many others. Its just that Meat Loaf was there at the inception of my appreciation for music. I'm not a big fan of concerts, but I made sure that Meat Loaf was one I attended. And I did. That's a story in itself.

But on to the matter at hand, or what's on my mind, actually. After my last post I have been thinking about what inspires me. Music plays a leading role here too. There are some pieces that just seem to cut right into my soul. Its as though the music and my soul are in harmonious orchestration. Like we're on the same wavelength. I believe some people can tap into that and really feel emotional with certain stimuli.

In fact, I was so determined to study the link between music and emotions that I proposed it for my Masters thesis. But my thesis advisor shot me down saying it was too broad. I'm not saying he was wrong, he wasn't, but I think he should have offered to help me fine tune my query and turn it into something more researchable and testable. But I learned about music over the years. Let me give you an idea of what I was going after. Imagine watching an emotional scene in a movie. Think of one of your favorite tear jerkers for a moment. Now imagine it without the music. I was hoping to identify a causal link. Music plays a huge role in the stories of our lives. You cannot define a culture without it.

So my thoughts turned more directly toward music that inspires me, be it to cry, to laugh, to feel sad, strong, lonely, or happy. So tonight I will share one of my favorite music performances ever. And I caught this by accident when it was live on TV. I recorded it on old fashioned VHS but that has long since gone lost. Thanks to YouTube, I can revisit this performance, and so can you. :-)

I don't recall posting this video yet, but I know it has come up in some of my conversations. This is Milla Jovovich, before anyone knew who she was. I think she was 19 at the time. She was a guest on Conan O'Brian. She was unknown, except I knew of her. ..

A long long time ago there was a music store, when LPs were still being sold routinely (I used to DJ so I went there a lot). Sound Warehouse pioneered the "listen before you buy" approach. That is why I went there. Even though they were about a dollar more than Craigs Record Factory (for those of you that have lived here long enough... hmm I wonder if there is a connection between that and Craig's List now... I wonder). Well, one day Sound Warehouse was featuring a little known artist from the Ukraine. The cover art caught my attention. It has an image that looks like its from Dante's Inferno. The album is called The Divine Comedy. Gee, where have I seen that before. So I picked up the headphones, turned up the volume, and listened in. I really liked it, particularly the song called The Gentleman Who Fell. So I bought the CD. It was like my little secret. As if she was signing just for me.

Lo and behold, who turns up on Late Nite, signing that song, no less! I was stunned and excited and pissed off all at the same time. Damn it! My secret was out. Well, as they say, the rest is history. Now hardly anyone knows that Milla used to sing. Moreover, we didn't even know her last name until The 5th Element. (Except for those of us that bought the CD and read the inserts)

So, after all that, I bring you this soulful performance of Milla singing The Gentleman Who Fell. Let the music move you. Enjoy, my friends!

Be well.

Elusive Virtues

I did it again. I gave myself an emotional cleansing... a bath, if you will.

I watched Dragonheart tonight. It had been a while since my last viewing. I'm still moved by it. Call me a kid, call me a lush, call me what you will... I cry every time. Every time. And tonight was no exception.

I was having this conversation today with one of my friends where we were comparing TV shows and characters. She mentioned that she learns something about herself through certain characters. She realized something on a conscious level that escapes many people. That is to say that we frequently learn about ourselves via watching others.

We see things in others that we either see in ourselves (usually good or amusing traits) or things in others that we wish to be (usually more noble or virtuous traits). This human attribute is no more evident to me than it is in one of my all time favorite characters from one of my all time TV programs... Benton Fraser of Due South.

A quick overview for those of you whose eyebrows are quizzically furrowed right about now...

Due South is (was) about a Canadian Mountie (RCMP) that was assigned to Chicago as a profesional liaison to the Chicago PD. This occurred after his father, also a mountie, was murdered. Basically, this was the RCMPs way of getting Fraser out of their hair without firing him. You see, Fraser is basically perfect... well, not literally, but you get the idea. Just picture a guy that actually lives and breathes every imaginable virtue, and then some more. So he helps his Chicago PD partner, Ray Vecchio, solve crimes. And he does this unconventionally at times. He uses all his skills that might otherwise be construed as ridiculous by the casual observer. Can you describe the difference between a clang and a clank in 15 seconds or less and do so using proper grammar? He can. This is a guy that can sniff a fire hydrant and tell you the breed of dog that peed on it and how long ago! He will be pursuing a purse snatcher down a busy sidewalk and stops to open a random door for a lady, tips his hat, greets her, wishes her a nice day, then continues the pursuit. You get the idea? All the while, on the side, Fraser is piecing together his fathers murder case. By the way, I haven't even mentioned his deaf wolf, Diefenbaker. (spelling?)

Ok... so that's the jist. It only lasted 3 seasons. Didn't have a huge fan base outside Canada. But I fell in love with it. The music was really (surprisinlgy) good for a little known TV show. This aired about the early 90s... about the time Eary Edition was on, if you recall that one.

Anyway..... I go on about all this because it illustrates my second point from earlier... how we see traits in other people that we wish we could possess. This guy is the definitive Jack-of-all-Trades. Outdoor savy, well groomed, handsome, courteous, intelligent, an eloquant orator, selfless, honest..... and so on.

Aren't these all the things we are taught to be as kids? Then why is it that he is so different from all the rest of us, aside from the obvious answer (because its scripted...duh) :-) Yeah, yeah, but here is the question that comes to me.... Why CAN'T we be like that? Or at least strive to approach that? Have you noticed that quote on the left side of this blog... close to the top, just above the Dog Lovers Corner.... My goal in life is to be as good a person as my dog thinks I am.

Think about it.

Sooooo... after all that..... Dragonheart reminds me of all those virtues that we are taught to maintain and uphold. It reminds me that I slip sometimes. It reminds me of how I want to be.
Along the same thread... there is another line from a TV show that is apropos here... from the TV show Angel. There is a scene where Angel tells his son why he does the things he does, despite the cost and apparent uselessness of it all... it goes something like this...



Let it sink in a minute.

Yes, these programs are out there for our viewing pleasure and entertainment. But if you, as the audience, allow yourself to get into the program.... you can glean lessons to live by from some of them.

So now for the fun part... some video clips for your viewing pleasure, my friends.
Be virtuous.
Be well.

We're Gonna Be OK

Its inevitable.

Live on the South Texas coast long enough, you have to deal with mad rushes to the gas station, grocery store, home improvement store, oh yeah... and deciding....

Imagine certain songs in your mind as you read this...

Do I stay or do I go now.... da da - da da- da da - daa..... there's a storm out in the gulf now..... da da - da da- da da - daa.....

Yup... Here we go again (I feel an 80s montage coming on) so I ran, I ran so far away, I just ran, because I wouldn't stay..... (is this corny yet?).... If you leave, don't leave now and wake me up before you go go. You won't catch me sitting at the dock of the bay as long as this wheel in the sky keeps on turning. (Somebody stop me!) People all around me are leaving. Hey, sister Christian, you're motorin', suddenly I think I'm alone now. Maybe I can make it to Amarillo by morning, or at least Luckenbach, Texas. Ah, the heck with it, I think I'll just relax and chill in Margaritaville. When the lights go out in ...er... Texas, I'll be running with the shadows of the night and don't you forget about me while I'm still here livin' on a prayer. If the storm does come its gonna be La Isla (not so) Bonita (where do I get this stuff?)

So I tried to go to bed around 9:00. That didn't work out too well. 4 phone calls in 40 minutes.
I guess I shouldn't complain. People are thinking of me sitting in a humble dwelling sitting about 15' above sea level at a mere 1,000' from the water's edge... yikes! I might have to take my Kayak to HEB on Sunday. On the bright side, I won't have to water the lawn until February.
That takes xeriscaping to a whole new level.

Ok, with that out of the way... hurricanes are no laughing matter. Let's take a moment to reflect on those less fortunate than ourselves. I truly am blessed, and sometimes I, like so many others, need to be reminded of how small we really are.

Be careful out there, friends. Its a big world, and sometimes it is out to get us!



Be well.

Its been a while.
I haven't taken the time to slow down long enough to write a new post. Even now, I'm still distracted thinking about other things that I should be doing. For instance, grading papers.
Yeah, that means school started again. Now that I'm back in "teacher" mode, my blissful freedom of a summer vacation is now another 270 (or so) days off in the future. I can't see it yet, but its there.

These past 2 weeks are almost a blur. (and now the phone rings)...
See what I mean about distractions :-)

So where was I? Apparently not too far along :-)

All is well on the homefront. The critters are doing well, which reminds me... Some time ago I mentioned that I was going to do a little expose on Tibet & Pete. You know about Talbot already. And, by the way, he is doing well :-)

But before I embark upon those tales, I will have to dig through my photo albums to find pictures of them. I have a few puppy pics of Tibet, but none really of Pete since he was already 6 months old when he came to me. But I do have pictures where his youthful exuberance is quite evident. It still is, actually. After all, he is only 5 years old. He is still young and he acts like it too. Tibet, on the other hand, is like the old maid. She is also 5.... about 2 months Pete's junior. But you'd think she was 10. She has this matriarchal (er...ness) about her. She is who I affectionatley refer to as the guardian. She is that. She wants to be a lap dog. But at 55ish lbs, I think not! Despite her role as the packs guardian, Talbot won't let her forget that she is not too old to play. And do they play! It is quite amusing, really. They have this black Kong bone that looks like a few grenades exploded next to it, but it is still in tact, albeit, quite chewed up. Tibet is also the most vocal of the bunch. She is the most assertive too. I might be lying on my bed when she will approach and announce her arrival with a friendly little head butt to my arm or whatever body part is conveniently close to the edge of the bed. So I dutifully give her a little scratch and she wanders off again. Then Talbot decides he wants some attention too. So instead of the head butt, he opts for the panting in my face approach. I'm not sure which gets my attention more effectively, the head butt, or the heated canine breath swirling into my nostrils. Either way... a little scratch behind the ears is due.
By the time Talbot is satisfied, Tibet is already on her way back. I'm sure in her mind there is some kind of a "reset" button that justifies a new head scratch every 90 seconds or so when she walks off. I hear her claws on the floor as she exits the bedroom, does a lap around the living room and the halls, then returns for the next head butt. Does she not realize that she was just there 90 seconds ago?

All the while, Pete just kind of lays there watching the tag-team with Tibet and Talbot vying for a head scratch. After about the 3rd round, he decides to get in on the action. Only Pete's approach is more dramatic. His approach is harkened by the knocks on the wall and furniture as his swaying (remember the weapon?) tail approaches. Honestly, folks, I'm still amazed that more things don't get knocked off tables or broken. He literally clears a path behind him as his lumbering 85 lb frame & 200 lb tail make their rounds! Pete has the advantage of being able reach his head about 12 inches over the bed to let me know he is there. And having a tongue almost as long as a giraffes enable him to reach another 12 inches. I'm not safe. Even if I had a King size bed (which I don't) I would have to make myself as slim as possible (which would be quite the feat given the girth of my ass alone) in the middle of the bed just to escape his reach!

But what can I say? Who am I to deny affection to those who bring so much to my life? When I have my dogs and my cat around, its as though all is right with the world! Well, at least in my little corner of it!

Be well