I remember Lady Blue, my loyal wild desert dog-friend. She was with me in my first house in Coronado, California; in the evening, she went with me to college and waited in the old gold car; we went to Tennessee on the last goodbye trip before Dad left, forever. She nibbled at his heels in the RV we stayed in during the visit because he was just too close to me. (Cotton-picken, dog!) She protected me from those who would approach the car I was driving, or the sidewalk as I walked in the "village" -as the Coronado locals liked to call the small tourist town. It was difficult to get an apartment or house with her; once I had to take her to an interview so that the house manager could determine her suitability to alley-house residence. I gave her a bath, brushed her shinny black fur and dressed her neck with a dark red bandanna. "I guess she's alright," the retired administrator commented. I held my choked but insufficient retort in check- “alright? Alright?!!” My Lady Blue was the most important friend to me when I was alone in a new state. She continued to stand by me while adapting to my new friends and marriage. She protected me from those who would harm a free-spirited young woman who liked to walk outside at night and breathe in the moonlit pine, and gaze through lamp-lit windows into the lives of those affluent locals whose well tended homes lined the golf course. One night, we were walking and, uncharacteristically, a hail storm struck. She entertained me with her antics, diving into the grass and rubbing her face, while small hard balls of ice struck us both. I laughed and ran with her, trying to find shelter from the pelting hail. Lady Blue, her life was so much more important than her death. And even though she was a dog, she gave me the heart to love difficult people as I dealt with her flees, her skin condition and the carpet smell (!) ...and too, the complaining neighbors, landlords requesting her removal, and new laws forbidding her freedom such as running in the cool early morning on the empty expansive Coronado beach without a leash. She was with me as I grieved my father and mother's death, never tired of my need for quiet comfort. Lady Blue sat with me when I practiced my first asana on the desert sand in Twenty-nine Palms, California where I first discovered her; a stray they thought was half coyote. Lady Blue, whose yoga was to teach me about power and its judicious use; a bridge to my own independence, I honor you.Note: Thank you, Mark, for your blog posting, "The Stone" in The Red Beech Tree which inspired me to reflect about Lady Blue.
Cynthia, thanks for the plug. Dogs are wonderful. Calling a person a dog should be a compliment. I have been thinking that perhaps I have been posting too many emotional blogs. I have a piece that I have tried to publish which I think is funny. The original title was "Why I Have Never Used by Friendship with Tobias Wolf to Get Ahead." I actually knew him, but I do not think he knew me, if you know what I mean. We lived in the same hallway in Oxford for four months. I portray myself as a maudlin pompous asshole. I guess it is easier to do that to strangers, such as myself when I was 20. I'll have to think about it before I post it.
ReplyDeleteCynthia, I really liked Lady Blue. I have never had a pet in an apartment, but Rubén rented to these two brothers who had dogs and they chewed the palm trees in the patio into nonexistence. And the dogs in the country are still breaking things. They chew plastic flower pots and knock over the clay ones as they go zipping and dashing after each other to land in the stands of ginger.
ReplyDeleteI suppose I could add all of the dog stuff I have already. A couple of them were published.
Perhaps I need some more upbeat stuff.
This was a comment that I thought I had erased.
I remember Lady Blue so clearly when I also lived in Coronada. I went to feed her when you and Wendell were away for over night. She was such a gentle soul. I have no idea why I didn't think to take her out for a walk while you were away. For that I am so sorry. Thinking of her, has brought back so many happy memories of my time in Coronado.
ReplyDeleteChristine, I am so happy to have you here in my blog forum, Oasis Writing Link. -Reader/writer friends, Chris is my dear friend who lives in the UK most of the time. She lived in Coronado for 6 months and we built the foundation of a deep friendship that has lasted to this day. We spent a lot of interesting time together enjoying life. For example, we used to meet up one night a week to do some craft, she might sew and I would crochet; or we would go buy crisp hot bread with fresh butter and have steaming coffee at the local bakery; once in a while, I would read her something I wrote but mostly we talked about important life matters and unimportant subjects-like why the old man at the flower stand wanted a kiss...What was his problem? (I told him, "no" and he plaintively asked, "Why"?) Christine and I worked at a side-job together at the Flower Lady, we made simple daisy basket arrangements and sold flowers to locals and tourist. The job was a nice fit with my California dreamn' fantasy while I was studying- we met all sorts of strange and fun and people. One time we went to Coronado Beach and had a picnic on a blanket covering the sand with all the special touches-thanks to Christine-cheese, wine, crackers and fresh fruit. I think we even watched fireworks at the gulf course overlooking the San Diego Bay once. When I was four months pregnant, we ran a 5k together over the Coronado/San Diego Bay Bridge. I was so sad when she left California. Christine is my soul sister and a genuine treasure to know.Sometimes one person's presence can so positively influence your experience of life that you realize what you were missing all along-and I thank Christine for that gift!- Christine, I am thrilled that you remember Lady Blue; it's like my old-dog-friend is alive again because of your memory.
ReplyDeleteCome again soon to Oasis Writing Link. I have missed you!