Wally’s Great Adventures (15)

hello everyone. wally here. tgif!  guess what day it was? no, silly, not hump day. its cleaning day. mom found me in the closet on top of the swiffer box and she put me to work. i have noticed that dad is no where to be found on cleaning day, i think the real work is always done by mom since dad is the king.  i love mom. shes so nice. back to cleaning. while i was responsible for swiffing with the swiffer, she was running something called a vacuum, what a horrible, nasty and ugly machine.  i needed to save mom so i barked at it and kept biting the hose. for some reason mom kept telling me to stop it and that wasn’t nice when i was trying to save her. thats me below with the swiffer. i like to say swiffer. see how focused i am with the swiffer. [Read more…]

Wally’s Great Adventures (14)

hello everyone, wally here. mom and i went to the vet today. had a poop test and it was clear of parasites. dad said that was because i keep shatting all over the house. oof. i got some shots which didn’t hurt that much esp since the nice ladies gave me all kinds of treats that i never get at home because of dads tight grip on my diet…he then lifts up his shirt to show me his belly and says this is what treats do, you don’t want that. he says i have to keep in tip top shape, this after mimi told him that a frenchie won a big dog show last weekend. dad said that i’ll be running circles around those other mutts in no time, and no dog of his will come in 2nd place… i’m feeling stress transference already. anyhoo, we’re mixing it up today by posting a vid. dad calls it the 8th wonder of the world. what’s that you might wonder? well dad calls wally eating his dinner something that everyone has to see at least once in their lifetime…and seeing it live is must see tv. mom says that when i’m really hungry and digging in, both of my back feet levitate. oh, i should explain that the food “dish” is called a ‘woof pet snuffle mat’ (yes, its a real thing) which teaches dogs how to forage. but that’s not the reason i have it. when dad was growing up on his farm one of his calves caught ruminal bloat and exploded, as he called it, from eating too much dewey grass too fast. so, dad buries each one of these food pebbles in different areas of the snuffle matt and i forage. he says i have to learn to slow down when i’m eating or i will explode too. he says that he’s never seen anything eat like me, a freak he calls it. I barked at him, you’re a freak dad, that wasn’t nice. anyway, those vet shots made me so tired. nap time. good night everyone. its wally and out.

 

 

Wally’s Great Adventures (12)

hello everyone, wally here. soooooo, is that your wally up there in the photo sniffing juicy things? that would be NO! that would be sully, my big bro, who is visiting this week. i love sully but dad has taken sully out with him every morning, and me? zero times. sully told me today that i missed a HUGE day, that dad was just giddy with the morning twilight show, pictures here. when i barked at dad, dad told me to stop whining and grow up and when i’m a big boy like sully maybe he will take me.  hmpffffffffff. i’ve learned a lot from listening to dad, so this where he would say “this is total bullsht”.  but, i’m little, i’m discriminated against and as dad would say “there ain’t sht i can do about it” so i decided to show dad that i’m bigger and better than sully.

this is sully and me guarding the house and watching for criminals. yes, i know, it is darien, ct but you just never know when something bad could be running around loose.

and the picture below is sully and me napping in sully’s favorite spot on top of the cushions. (Oh, that was mom’s idea to put the heart around sully and me because i love sully. dad cringed.)

and here’s sully and me playing tug-o-war with his favorite ball. i drink from sully’s water bowl when he drinks, we drink together. we chew on the same bone together. we wrestle together, and i don’t win often but i keep pulling on sully’s jowls to let him know that i’m a tough little guy. so, there are just so many things i’m just as good as sully. yet… [Read more…]

Wally’s Great Adventures (11)

hello everyone, wally here. i’m having an off day, more on that in a moment. that’s me and my bro sully in the pic up top.  he’s here visiting us for thanksgiving. dad calls this the frenchie train. frenchies love to sleep between legs, its warm and safe there. and since sully is older and i’m the baby, i don’t get to pick the pole position. if i bury my head far enough down, i can minimize the downwind vapors. i can’t wait to grow up so i get big-boy privileges. speaking of that, i’ve been having trouble sleeping, and i pee-peed in my day bed today. i’m afraid this may be due to anxiety, because i think i may have been adopted. but mom would never lie, would she? with dad, on the other hand, anything is possible. well, i may be quiet, but i watch. oh, i watch. i watch dad slide sully cheese pizza under the table yesterday. today he sneaks sully a few intra meal snacks.  he thinks i don’t see, but i see. oh, i see.  and this morning, dad was gone with sully for 2 hours for a long walk at cove island park. and wow, he even got sully in a beautiful sunrise shot among other dandies here. and my pic? look at me out of focus with my head up sully’s a**. that’s just not right.  as dad likes to say, i don’t get shat but yelled at, and if things don’t shape up around here, he’s ain’t seen what bad could look like. dad says that i need to be more grateful, as it’s thanksgiving tomorrow. i took some time thinking about dad’s lesson on being grateful. so i looked at the picture he took of me below. look at me. my head is like 3x the size of my body, it’s disproportionately large. mom said that’s normal and i’ll grow into my body. dad asks mom if that is why we got a discount when they bought me. jesus. it’s hard to be grateful with dad’s pep talks. anyway, i had better see some turkey snacks tomorrow, or you are going to see sully rain down hell around here. ok friends, it’s wally’s nap time. happy thanksgiving!

 

 

Wally’s Great Adventures (10)

hello everyone, wally here. i’m helping dad with his planks, planks so his back doesn’t flare up.  any-who, back to dad.  just look at him. what is flaring up are his ears, his face & the veins on his forehead, we have like a medical emergency here so it is wally to the rescue. i first crawled underneath dad hoping to prop him up & dad shouted that this “wasn’t bloody helpful walter.” dad calls me walter when i’m making trouble. still, something was very wrong here. dad was breathing so heavy, and his face was like a tomato, and his arms trembling, i think he was hallucinating & he must be playing the opposite game. so i grabbed the knot in the drawstring from his hoodie & started reefing on it trying to pull dad down. his elbows were broken & wouldn’t come down. “WALLY, GET OUT!” dad looked ill. mom was laughing. i barked telling her that this was not funny & dad was in big trouble.  then dad said he had 10 secs to go and it would be over thank god. omg, dad is dying.  then suddenly dad collapsed to the ground and i thought he was dead so i dropped the drawstring & ran over to his ear & bit down on it to resuscitate him. dad lifted his head & lifted me up with my teeth locked onto his ear, his head like a giant construction crane. it was so much fun and dad was alive!  “DAMN IT WALLY, F*CKING LET GO.”  i barked at dad & told him that wasn’t nice esp since i saved him.  dad rolled around the floor holding his ear saying i made him bleed. come on dad, they are just baby teeth. dad said he was doing crunches tomorrow and i wouldn’t be within 3 miles of him. i don’t know about miles or crunches but i’ll be close by right here to rescue him forever when he’s in trouble. ok friends, it’s wally’s nap time. have a great day.

Wally’s Great Adventures (6)

hello everyone. wally here. guess what? my big brother sully came to visit. mom said he’s not my brother but he’s my cousin. dad said that we came from the same mother. mom said that’s not true, and that he didn’t know what he was talking about. but since dad is always right, he said that sully is my brother and that was that. back to sully. he’s giant. i mean GIANT. i can’t wait to grow up to be that big. dad wrestles with him and plays tug-o-war with my toys. i run into the middle of their ruff-housing and dad shoos me away saying I’m too little and will get hurt. i bark at him, who’s he calling little. mom calls me over, and tells me that I will get hurt so I go and sit on mamma’s lap like a baby, little baby mamma’s boy. sad. sully is like a super frenchie. with a running start he can jump straight up onto the ottoman and then to the top of the couch.  i follow right behind him and bang my head on the side of the ottoman and fall backwards. dad comes running to pick me up and asks me if I’m ok. sully growls at me. dad says not to worry, as all dogs get jealous with the dog whisperer. i didn’t know what he was talking about but mom grumbled something about being delusional and this is what she has to look forward to in his retirement. sully has his own water bowl, it’s so much bigger than mine and the water tastes so much better in his bowl. i want a big bowl like sully’s but mom won’t let me as i keep stepping in the water bowl and spilling the water all over the floor. mom says not to worry as this must be a genetic influence from dad.  sully lets mom put on his sweater without a fuss, so i did too, as i want to be a big boy like sully. dad said that my sweater looked a bit tight, like a bodycon that women wear. i didn’t think that was nice so I barked at him.  dad said that sully’s sweater would be good camouflage in the woods, but with my red foo-foo hoodie, that for sure a hawk would mistake me for edible vermin. one last thought as it is almost nap time. i poo-pooed in the kitchen yesterday, and pee-peed 3x on the rugs, the rugs are so soft on my little paws when I’m pushing it out (and I don’t have to go out in the cold and wet grass). mom did not look that happy, no where near as happy as when i go poo poo in the backyard and she jumps up and down as if she won the california lottery. dad said that mom needed to bone up her dog training skills, as did she notice that i don’t crap all over the house on his watch, dog whisperer that he is. sully and i are sleepy so we are going to take a nap now. ok everyone, have a great week!

 

Wally’s Great Adventures (5)

tgif everyone. i had a great night’s sleep. i get up once or twice a night and bark so mom can take me to go pee pee outside. dad doesn’t get up because he’s tired and he said that it’s mom’s job because mom and dad have divided up responsibilities between them so it’s fair.  in other words, dad plays with me, and mom does everything else. dad is an awesome playmate. i love my crate, it’s my safe place. i sleep in the crate until about 3:30 am when i see bright lights on, then i know dad is up reading. i bark because I’m cold and lonely lying in this crate all by myself —  i see dad nudge mom to get up to get me. mom gets up and she carries me into their bed. i wiggle out of mom’s hands, run across the bed to give dad some kisses and then i skootch under the covers and cosy between dad’s legs. i love my crate but this is a much better place to sleep.  dad takes me out for adventures each morning in the backyard where i get to hunt in the rock pile. dad keeps saying “stop eating dat.” “stop eating dat. “stop eating dat.” i bark at him telling him he doesn’t have to repeat himself, i’m not stoopid, and if he gave me more snacks i wouldn’t have to eat grass and sticks. i climb from the top of the rock pile and then bunny-hop into the bird bath. dad was so proud of me, he took a picture and sent it to mom. mom yelled at dad saying that he shouldn’t put me up on high places, cause i could fall and hurt myself. i bark at mom to explain that it wasn’t dad but she just kept yelling at him. i don’t understand why mom nags at dad, because he let’s me do whatever I want and he’s always right anyway. dad’s been talking about taking me to cove island park this weekend, mom didn’t look all too happy but I’ve come to learn that dad will do whatever he wants anyway. so i have to go now.  it’s nap time. have a great weekend!

Wally’s Great Adventures (4)

hello everyone, happy hump day. dad said that i can only take a nap after i write my post. so here we go. eric’s friend dana said the other day that she loved how i crossed my legs when i sleep. dad pounced on that and said that was totally unacceptable. that’s how ladies sit, and sleep, and that i needed to “man-up.” i really didn’t know what that meant but dad was really proud of me when he showed me this picture: “wally, what a good boy.” i like it when i make my dad smile, it doesn’t happen often. it’s getting cold here. mom took me outside for poo-poo and i carefully laid it down on the concrete patio. mom didn’t look all that impressed but i didn’t want to walk out onto the cold, wet grass. dad said he didn’t care where i go poo-poo so long as it wasn’t in his office. dad’s been taking me for short little walks in the backyard. he said that i’m an excellent rock climber. right after he said that i tumbled head first and fell behind the rock fence, and rolled around in the leaves a bit. dad brushed me off, told me to get up and stop being a baby. my head hurt a bit. dad said “after that little performance, i’m not ready to go on morning walks with him.” i barked at him and said it’s not like he hadn’t fallen and rolled around on the rocks writhing in pain, and he was a lot older than me. dad told me not to talk back, so it looks like i have to wait a bit longer before i go on walks with dad. anyway, its been like 3.5 minutes and i haven’t sat on mom’s lap. it’s so warm there and she’s so nice, so i’m going to go now.  talk to you all soon.

Wally’s Great Adventures (3)

hello everyone, happy sunday. as promised, dad took me to his magic kingdom: cove island park. it’s not exactly how we had it planned.

as dad was downloading his pictures to his computer this morning, he told mom “she seemed off. cormorants don’t let me anywhere near them, highly skittish, yet this one let me approach. i thought she was ill. now i know why.” he asked mom to look closely at the photo.

we hurried to get dressed. i put on my vest. mom found work gloves, pliers and scissors. dad said something about this being a bad omen, with his spirit bird in distress. i barked at dad and told him that i was here now, and everything would be ok. we hurried out to the park to see if we could help her. [Read more…]

Wally’s Great Adventures (2)

good morning everyone. it’s week 2 with my new mom and dad. i’ve had so much fun. but let me first explain why i’m hiding under the chair. dad said big boys don’t wear sweaters…and that i’m not going to grow up to be a circus monkey. and he warned me not to get him torqued up on this gender thing. but i was cold, and mom saw me shivering, so she put on my sweater and i hid under the chair so people wouldn’t see me being a monkey. back to mom, she is so nice. and warm. dad told mom she was creating something called a dependency. i don’t know what that means, but i never want to leave mom’s lap.  2 nights ago, dad lifted me off her lap grumbling about me being a mama’s boy, i tried to wriggle out of his hands and i fell to the ground from way up high. it hurt a little, but not too much, but i was limping trying to shake it off. mom started to cry. that lit dad up about her being at fault because i can’t be away from her for 3 seconds. and then she yelled back at him saying ‘you’ve got to be kidding me.’ he didn’t look like he was joking. and then he mumbled something about needing pet insurance. i barked at him and told him i didn’t plan to run away, that i love it here.  mom told me she was going to yoga today and that i had to stay with dad and i needed to be a good boy.  i went upstairs with dad to his office and he was on a zoom call with work friends.  i was bored sniffing around his office so i piddled a little bit on dad’s white carpet, ok, maybe more than a little bit. dad turned to look, and he didn’t look all too happy, pointing at me and telling me not to move. i sat there like a good boy staring at the big yellow spot on his carpet. it looked so pretty, i can’t understand why dad was so upset. dad said he had to end his call early to clean up my mess, and if i wasn’t so darn cute, i’d be in time out like forever. so that’s about all for now. it’s lunch time. and just wait until next time when I tell you what my dad does for me for lunch. he can be nice when he wants to be. dad said he may take me to a magical place this weekend called cove island park. i can’t wait! tgif everyone! have a nice weekend.

Wally’s Great Adventures. Day 1: Noah’s Ark.

here we are. my new mom is holding me. we’re outside of something called noah’s ark, or new ark or newark. i look around and this sure doesn’t look like a salvation ship to anywhere, but my new mom told me not to worry. but i’m scared, i’m shaking. i left my two siblings and my mom and dad behind. it made me sad to leave them and fly alone. and what’s worse, i didn’t get anything to eat, because they were worried i would go poopy on the plane. mom whispered to me that “your dad is so cheap, i had to fly coach on the floor, and i shouldn’t complain as i’ve already cost him an arm and a leg.”  i looked at him and he seemed to have both still attached so i didn’t understand. my dad is yelling at us to get in the car as N.J. cops are circling the arrivals area. wow, this is my dad. what have i got myself into here?

i look over at my dad as he drove. he doesn’t smile much. he mumbled something about “getting a puppy at this age warrants some form of sanity test.”  mom pulled out a little baggy with kibbles in it, and i licked them out of her hand. boy, they tasted so good.  dad noticed that I was licking my lips and told mom that i was thirsty. that dad of mine is so smart.  mom bought a little dish and filled it will water. i slurped it all up and looked up at mom. she poured me more. i slurped all that up too. dad said that was enough as it will be coming out my other end all over the car seat and he “wasn’t stopping for nothing in this shit storm” of something called rush hour.

my new mom held me the entire car ride home. she said that she bought me as a birthday gift for my dad, but she’s holding me so tight, I don’t think she’ll ever let me go.  we finally get home, it was a long car ride. and i held my wee wee the entire way because i didn’t think dad would like it if i peed in his car.

so, i ran around the house a bit to check things out. i couldn’t go up the stairs or down the stairs because dad said i was too little, i would take a header and he didn’t want to pay to take me to the hospital.

it was such a stressful day that i needed to take a little rest. here i am in my new bed. i like this bed a lot. it makes me feel safe. between the bed and all the new toys my mom bought for me, i think i’m going to like it here.  i’m learning that mom is a real softy and i know she loves me. (she still hasn’t let me go.) my dad, on the other hand, seems to be a project.  he said that until i can make myself useful, and join him on his morning walks, and walk on the slippery rocks by myself without falling in, i’m practically useless.  i didn’t think that was a nice thing to say on my first day home but you just wait. i may be little, but i’ll show him.

so that’s it for today.

oh, btw, i’m walter, or wally for short. i’m 6 lbs and 11 weeks old. my dad said i can have my own column here on his blog as it might lighten things up a bit. so stay tuned.

have a great sunday!

Sully’s Great Adventures (VI)

5:45 a.m. Grandpa had to roust me from bed this morning. i was so sleepy. it was so warm under the covers. while he was getting ready, i crawled back in my little bed in his office. Grandpa picked me up and took me downstairs and put on my rain jacket.

i ran into my crate hoping he would change his mind about this walking thing. it’s way too early. Grandpa never changes his mind. he is always right. so, off we went. Grandpa took me off leash and told me “if there was any funny business, i would be locked in my crate all day.” I looked up at him and gave him my sad eyes. He would never do that to me. i went running down the beach ahead of Grandpa. Grandpa saw me limping and asked what was wrong. i tried to pull out the thorn that lodged itself in my paw with my teeth. I couldn’t get it. Grandpa grabbed my paw and tried to pull on it. he asked me if “it was a thorn or a body part that should be attached.” i told him not to be silly. i barked at him to tell him to pull harder. Grandpa reefed on it so hard, i thought he tore my paw from the rest of my body. i walked a bit and didn’t feel the needles pricking at me anymore. i felt great and i barked at Grandpa to tell him “good job Grandpa.” i love my Grandpa. he’s my hero!


For more photos from this morning’s walk with Sully, click here.

Sully’s Great Adventures (II)

Grandpa and I went on our morning walk this morning.  I had so much fun.

After I did my do-do, Grandpa let me off leash. I can sense his anxiety just before he lets me off-leash…so much stress. I don’t understand why he gets all worked up. Oh, wait. I smell Geese. A lot of geese. Has to be over 100 of them snoozing in the dark on the open field. Have you ever heard 200 wings slapping at the same time?  You can’t see the Geese, but wow, what a sound. Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Oh, here comes Grandpa running across the field. He’s so proud of me; he’s waving his arms in the air. Good Boy Sully, Do that Again! Or maybe it was, GET BACK HERE!

I walked into the lagoon chest deep. My boobies got cold so I ran out. And there’s Grandpa again: Good Boy Sully!  Or maybe it was, Don’t you Dare go in there!

I then watched Grandpa creep up to ~50 egrets. There was soooo many.  They are soooo white.  He was tip toeing to get closer.  I couldn’t understand why he was poking along so I raced by him and flushed all the egrets up into the sky. I heard Grandpa yell something like “Good Boy Sully! Great Job“. Or maybe it was: ‘You’ve got to be f*cking kidding me.” I think he was proud of me for getting them all up at once.  And oh, those white wings, against the clouds and sunrise. So, Beautiful!

And, oh, I almost forgot.  I didn’t puke once in Mom’s car. He seemed happy about that.

Can’t wait until tomorrow’s adventures!

Nap time!


More pictures from this morning’s Cove Island Park walk here.

Walking. With Sully. (Part 1.)

4:45 a.m. Here we go again.  Cove Island Park Morning Walk.  Well, not exactly.  Sully and I are driving Susan to the airport, and then we’re off to the park.

The House will be cleared out. For an entire week!  Sully’s parents are on Honeymoon.  Sully’s Grandma is going to visit her Mother. It’s now just the Boys, batching it for a week. Nobody nagging us on excessive treat consumption. Or our roughhouse play. No need to pick up our toys.  Just the Boys, Home Alone.

We’re five miles from home on our return from the airport.  I glance to my right, and Sully doesn’t look right. He’s staring up at me, his big brown eyes signaling distress. Oh, no, Sully.  Not here. Not now.  We’re on I-95, no exit for three miles.  Sully, please, just hold on. We’re almost home.

Sully now has the dry heaves.

We’re two miles out.

Sully, good Boy that he is, jumps down into the footwell, because he’s done this before, got yelled at, and he’s learned you just can’t puke on the car seat.  Footwell is ok, but not on the seat.

I’m watching him and keeping an eye on I-95.  He’s trying to get his footing, the car is moving 65 mph, his Grandpa is racing to get home.

One mile out.

Out comes the vomit, a thick stream of a white foamy, chunky substance, which begins to ooze up and down the floor mat. Thank God this is Susan’s Car.

Sully gently lifts one foot and then the other as the vomit coats his little foot pads.

He looks up to the car seat, and then to me, preparing to jump back up onto the seat.

No! You stay right where you are.

Sully turns his attention to the vomit. Sniffs it. Paws it. And then sniffs it again.

No! Don’t you dare eat it.

He’s frozen in place, as we take the exit ramp home.

Home Alone.

Boys’ Week.

Batching it.

Right.


DK Photo: Sully on Breakwall. 46° F. 6:30 am. October 10, 2022. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.

Walking. With Ennui.

5:25 a.m. Here we go again. 849 consecutive (almost) days on my Daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a row.

I gather my camera gear, sleep walking through the ritual now. Insomnia rages, 6 days running. No, I haven’t taken your suggested witches’ potions — that is, banana before bed, tonic water, melatonin, magnesium, and all that other voodoo shit that I can’t seem to even try. What’s the definition of insanity? Doing the same shit over and over again and expecting a different result. Well, here we are. On the 5:30 am Insanity Bus to Cove Island Park.

I get out of the car. I reposition the pack on my back, then the camera, all of it, heavy, unsettled, unsettling.

I walk.

I’m woozy, stewing in a brew of vertigo and fatigue. Brew…Brew…feelings brewing. I’m at the opening of Maddie Mortimer’s Maps of Our Spectacular Bodies: “Feeling brews itself in different locations, depending on the body. A man’s most honest impulses may begin in his hands or his heart, his toes, throat, fingers or thighs. Lia felt most things first in her stomach.” There’s nothing spectacular going on in this body right now. Spent immediately comes to mind. I slow my pace to get a grip.

I walk.

Mortimer goes on to use the word “ennui“, a Lori-word. I had to look it up…a feeling of utter weariness and discontent…world-weary sensation…soul-destroying fiend.”

I walk.

Adding to the ennui is an “off day” for photo taking. We’ve got the 3 impeding elements: (1) No cloud cover of any type. (2) High tide and (3) Humans. With sun rising later, the tourists are out. In force.

I walk.

I turn off the shoreline, finding nothing enlightening, and move to the walk path.

Man, tourist, adult, not a regular at Cheers here on the Daybreak walks, approaches. He’s shouting into the speaker of his smartphone. He’s FaceTiming. The participant on the other side of the call shouts back. And the back and forth continues, shattering the silence of daybreak.

I move left on the path directly in his lane, thinking this may jog him in lifting the receiver to his ear, or better yet, ending the call. No such thing happens. He shifts to the other side of the path to avoid me. I glare at him, he smiles back and continues his conversation. Idiot, oblivious to the world around him.

My irritation bleeds off, and I walk.

[Read more…]

Walking. With Buechner.

5:10 a.m. No. I didn’t sleep in. And No, I didn’t take magnesium before bed. Or drink a cup of Tonic Water. Or eat a banana. Or take melatonin. Why? Who the Hell knows? Maybe it gives me something to bitch about.

I walk.

It been 837 consecutive (almost) days on this daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. That’s 2 years, 3 months, 15 days, like in a row.

There’s a thin sheen of cloud cover over the moon. Even God found at Ōita couldn’t get a clear shot at this. Elsewhere overhead, the cloud cover is heavy and near complete. It’s dark.

It feels like a “down” day. Too much cloud. Too many people. Too much high tide. Sigh. 837 days, and you’re going to have an off day. The odds are such.

I approach the location in the photograph up top. A scene that I, and you, have seen many times.

I can make out the fisherman’s silhouette, but nothing else. Something pulls me to lift the camera up and look through the viewfinder…WTH is that? I stare through the viewfinder, a Kaleidoscope.

I take the camera away and look out again. It’s dark. I see nothing of what I see in the viewfinder. I lift the camera, and do over. God, no. It can’t be my eyes deteriorating further.

I lift the camera again, and sure as sh*t, it’s there. God found at Ōita has returned. The pink hue watercolors are airbrushed on the water, the sky, the low hanging clouds and the horizon.

It’s dark, and yet it’s not. What I see. What I want to see. What I can see. What I don’t see. What I feel.

This string of babble pulls me back to my early morning papers.

Frederick Buechner died this week. David Brooks, in his must-read essay titled “The Man Who Found His Inner Depths” described Buechner’s faith as “personal, unpretentious and accessible. ‘Faith is homesickness. Faith is a lump in the throat. Faith is less a position on than a movement toward.’ It is sensing a presence, not buying an argument.”

I look over the Cove, it’s lighter out now, twilight is lifting. Now that I see, I believe.

But damn it if I’m not sensing Something out there.

Something ethereal, Lori’s magic word def. adj. //əˈTHirēəl/ extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world.

No, this brick-head isn’t buying ‘jack’ yet, but he’s out Shopping, and Something is there.

He can feel it.


DK Photo @ 5:30 a.m. August 20, 2022. 8-° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. More photos from this morning here.

God Found in Ōita!

2:30 a.m. Here we go again.

I’m up. Three days, back to back to back, at this God-awful hour. Three days, standing in bare feet on cool grass, with my camera pointed up, trying to still my hands, trying to still my arms, just trying Still everything damn it, from the shakes — and then, if that’s not enough — my eyes are tracking the moon, aka a bright, yellow blob that is spastically jumping up and down in my viewfinder. So, now I have the shakes and vertigo.  Has to be the lack of sleep. Has to be.

Rattled, I walk to the driveway, slowly, feeling my way through the dark, with jagged stones piercing the souls of my feet. Need to resurface this damn driveway. 

I lay my arms on the roof of the car, and point upward. Why 2:30 a.m., and not 1:30, or 3:30, or even 5 am, like at least 10% of Humans? God, again, only knows, if there is a God. And I’m thinking maybe there is a God, because Someone wants me up to see Something at this hour.

I look back into the viewfinder. Sh*t. This isn’t working.

I place the camera down on the roof of the car, and let my arms rest.  Sky is clear. No risk of missing the shot with cloud cover. Take a minute, re-group and go at it again.

I look up and down the street.  No one else is out in their Jockey sleep shorts, their short-sleeved, white V-Neck, lurking around in bare feet waiting for their hands to stop trembling like a frightened kitten.

I lift my palms and look. Everything appears to be normal, on the surface.

I take a moment to re-check camera settings. Then I move to the lens settings. And here I find that I somehow turned off the automatic image stabilizer. Ha! It’s not me. I just knew it couldn’t have been me.

I snug up tight to the car, the smooth steel, cool against my chest. With the ship now anchored, I lift the camera and point.  And, there, there She is, in all of her Glory.

So there is a God.

Just has to be.

Sitting @ Canon in Ōita, Japan.


Photo – Waning Gibbous Moon (57%). 2:38 a.m. August 19, 2022. 63° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. More photos from this morning here.

Sunday Morning. Yehi or!

No, it’s not my morning walk @ Daybreak @ Cove Island Park. Not yet 831 consecutive days, like in a row. It’s too damn early for that. 3 hours and 12 minutes before sunrise, to be precise. And here we are. As Ocean Vuong states in On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: “Let me begin again.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Let me begin again?” or, “Here we go again?”

2:36 a.m. I snatch the iPhone and check Sleep data: 5 consecutive days < 4 hours sleep. I check the Dark Sky app: Clear skies.

Sully pauses his snoring to open an eyelid. His big brown eye looking through me: What is wrong with you Man? He turns his head, and falls back asleep.

I slip out of bed, head downstairs, my bare feet pattering on the hard wood floors, careful not to trip over myself in the darkness. I step outside, scanning the skies. There you are. Waiting for me.

It’s quiet. No Metro-North train whistles in the distance, the last train passing an hour ago. No dogs barking. No critters scurrying in the shrubs. Just me, and the cool grass under my toes, and my mind whirring.

[Read more…]

Walking. With Birdie.

4:55 a.m. 823 consecutive (almost) days on my daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. 823 days, like in a row.

I walk.

It’s hot. Like 76° F and it’s not even 5 am yet.  It was Eugenides who said: “It was one of those humid days when the atmosphere gets confused…you could feel it: the air wishing it was water.”

Yet, there was zero confusion here. I’m wearing long pants and a long sleeve shirt — because, I’ll be damned if I’m going to be scratching myself for the next two days from gnat bites. I would rather suffer through the heat, and b*tch about it, than let those pesky SOBs feast on me. DK 1, Gnats, no bloody chance.

But, it’s hot. On top of the long pants, long shirt, and the white, just-under-the-knee sweat socks, I’m dragging this backpack around, just in case some miracle of a bird sighting will require a long zoom lens. Take 1 day off, you obsessive, compulsive, maniacal idiot, or is it manic?… and leave the bag in the car.

I loosen the straps on the backpack, and shift the load a bit to rebalance, thinking this will help. It doesn’t.  Why is it so bloody heavy? [Read more…]

Walking. With Greg Louganis.

4:50 a.m. 817 consecutive (almost) days on my daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. 816 days, like in a row.

I walk.

You know the formula for a great photo day-break:

  1. Low Tide.
  2. Clouds.
  3. No Humans.

And today, a Trifecta Miss = Poor shooting day on all three counts. (Shooting, meaning not assault weapons, but with a Canon. Sorry, assault weapons are top of mind.)

Yet, there’s a consolation prize. It’s the end of July. Humidity is low, it’s 63° F and breezy. What’s better than that?

But even with the magical weather, I’m restless, uninspired. I plod around the park, itching to get back into the car and do Something. And I’m apparently not alone, with Seán Hewitt, in All Down Darkness Wide, “Even in these quiet moments I was afraid of purposelessness.”

I turn back thinking I’ll get a stalker silhouette shot with some kids on the break wall. And at that moment, Something, makes me stop and look out onto Long Island Sound. There, in the sky, an osprey prowls in a tight circle overhead. Being a sh*tty measure of distance, I couldn’t tell you whether he was 100 feet or 100 yards up, but let’s just say he was high.

First miracle of the morning. I actually stop and see if anything will happen. He widens his arc overhead, and continues to circle. Just wait DK, just wait another bloody minute. If he can circle and wait for food, so can you. Just wait, damn it.

[Read more…]

%d bloggers like this: