15 results for bayou
A few weeks ago, Abby, her mother and I traveled to Tahoe, which I found more beautiful in summer than in winter, marauding bears notwithstanding. If you delight in photographs of the pale in clear waters, of scenic Alpine forests, of fields of wildflowers, or of dogs wrapped in hip or grandmotherly garments, you might like the complete set.
Bayou hurt her paw somewhere in the rivers of broken glass and chicken bones that San Francisco calls sidewalks, but Five seems to be feeling much better. Abby and I took them on limited adventures this weekend in the midst of Valentine’s Day celebrations.
We were pretty certain Five would need to be put down, so we took some last-minute family portraits before we went to the veterinary hospital. Incredibly, he seems to have largely recovered, and he was well enough that I took him to Tahoe so he could have a last frolic, in case he is near his end. It was their first time in real snow, in real mountains.
Here are some photos of the dogs and the people I went with, including Ryan and Todd and Kenton and John and others. Sincere thanks to all the well-wishers who wrote to me about Fivey; Abby and I really appreciated it.
Bayou and Five adore San Francisco, both the city proper, through which they walk leashless and lollygagging every day, delighting in the sights and sounds and smells, and the incredible amount of greenspace in the neighborhoods and around the area. Today we went to Fort Funston.
(Source: Flickr / millsbaker)
Abby and I bought some boiled crawfish from Mr. Lee at the corner store; we forgot ice cream, but remembered paper towels. With Bayou and Five, we went to the park around the corner, where we always go, and ate four of the six pounds, along with potatoes and corn. Abs even sucked the heads! I fed some of the feast to my dogs, including two cobs which they devoured whole. Then we lay in the grass and napped for a while, being kids and getting sunburned.
My relationship with Abby began when, because she couldn’t figure out how else to do it, she sent me a message on Flickr to ask if we could be pen pals. I have a difficult time with the material world, so since then I’ve only made her a few things, and even for Valentine’s Day she had to settle for flowers someone else made (which Syd helped order!).
Meanwhile, I’ve received scores of little things too amazing to believe, including a Christmas present I dearly love, too much to use: a tin filled with tiny cards, each bearing some phrase from our time together, some note, a drawing, and so on, like a card catalog of affectionate fragments. The idea is that I can open them when she’s not here, but I always worry that I’ll need them more someday, that I should save them.
For Valentine’s Day, she made me an adorable card with a fabric heart and a beautiful note on the back. It sits on my bedside table, with some moss, a cube of pyrite, little envelopes, and other gifts she’s sent.
“My dog barks some. Mentally you picture my dog, but I have not told you the type of dog which I have. Perhaps you even picture Toto, from The Wizard of Oz. But I warn you, my dog is always with me!”
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Hello! My name is Mills Baker. I write about art, culture, love, philosophy, memory, history, and more. Here are some relatively better posts. This site has been featured on Tumblr Tuesday and is listed in the Spotlight, but it pines for its youth as a coloring book. (Header lettering by the amazing Chirp).