Skip to main content

A Very Business-Like Dog

It is, after all, the dead of winter,
and a tough one it has been, too,
with the election of Our Glorious
New Leader, which brings to mind
the fact that our new guard dog
still pees on the floor whenever
he get a chance, and that he (Cooper)
still refuses to attend daily briefings
since he says he is a smart dog,
and smart dogs don't need
no stinking briefings.

We took the Cooper with us when we drove
to the southeast part of town to Saguaro East.

"Hey, there!", somebody said to me as we walked up to the Visitor's Center--Cooper at one end of the leash and I on the other--"You should go home and get the rest of the dog!"

OK.  He is not very big.

The Park is big, climbing easily up the side of the Rincons:  the mountains bending around to form the east side of the city.  Together with the Santa Catalinas north of them, they funnel every stray cloud into a corner--an elbow--and squeeze out whatever humidity can be intimidated to nurture the Sonoran plants that are geniuses at harboring whatever water there is.



I think it was that we went because
we really did not want to see
too many more of our own species,
or to hear the mad calls of human coyotes
baying at the election moon,
howling that human civilization is being lost
now that the human race is no longer 100% White,
as it used to be when we were great.

"I suppose," I said to Mari,
"we ought to privatize Saguaro National Park, too,
when we privatize Social Security
and the public schools.   A little profit-motivation
might help these cactuses."

Mari looked at me as if I were crazy.
She doesn't understand how running a cactus like a business
is just what we need in this country.

Cooper spent a fair amount of time on three legs,
demonstrating what he thought of water conservation.







Comments

  1. UnknownDecember 21, 2016 at 12:14 PM

    Thank-you for the name "Our Glorious New Leader" Since I am trying very hard not to say his name out loud, this is perfect.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Conrad RøyksundDecember 21, 2016 at 1:38 PM

    It was either that, or "The dog who pees on our floor".

    ReplyDelete
  3. UnknownDecember 22, 2016 at 12:07 AM

    You're right. Either works. I'll keep the latter as a spare.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Friends-- My step-father of 35 years died this morning. His name was Conrad Royksund. He was 86 years old. He was born into poverty on a farm near Puyallup, WA. He was the first member of his family to attend college and earned a PhD from the University of Chicago. He paid his way through all of that by fishing in Alaska. He spent his professional career as a college professor. I met him when I was just 3 years old and don't actually have any memories of my life befor e he was in it. He was intimidatingly smart, funny as hell, and worked his ass off. He taught me to meet people with kindness and decency until I was certain they could not be trusted. He taught me to meet ideas with carving knives until I was certain they could. I will remember him as one of the bravest, most curious, and funniest people I have ever met. He left this world with a satisfied mind. We are so grateful. Dan Hubbard
1 comment
Read more

Caliche Busters and Government Work

When I was young and both stronger and smarter than I am now, I put my might and brain to work doing nothing useful, unless it might be thought that hand/foot/eye coordination might come in handy.  Those were skills to be learned and practiced.   I found an iron bar our grandfather had shaped in his blacksmith shop.  He took old car, truck, or wagon axles, and made tools from them for digging post holes.  He sharpened one end to a tip, and the other to a blade.  Washington State, like many places, had a hard layer of soil, probably created by water and limestone, or some such materials, that made digging holes a miserable chore.  The bar chipped through the natural concrete so that a shovel could take it up.   I found Grandpa's iron bar, and since I was young and dumb and strong--or so I thought--decided to punch a hole down to hardpan and ultimate truth.  I knew how to do that.  Raise the bar vertically with both hands, and then slam in straight down.  On the second try, aimi
Post a Comment
Read more

The Sea is Rising

Let us just step back:  two hundred and fifty years ago, or so, the ships of England and Spain had drifted onto a whole new continent, as they saw it, from far north to a savagely cold south; pole to pole, as if there were such things. Millions of people already lived here, some of them still hunters and gatherers; some of them very wealthy, indeed!  Gold and silver stolen from the southern Americas funded Spanish and English dreams. There was land, lots of land, under starry skies above, rich land, and oil and coal and iron ore.  The whole western world learned how to build industries not on simple muscle power, but on steam and oil.  We farmed, too, of course.  All we needed was cheap labor--slave labor from Africa, mostly, so the ships came with slave labor.  Chinese labor built railroad beds where there had been rock cliffs. Europeans, long used to killing each other for good, religious reasons, brought their religious savagery with them.  Even when all they wanted to do w
Post a Comment
Read more