Tag: wally

Walking on Sunday Morning. Wally’s (and Dad’s) Great Adventures. (77)

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hello friends. Wally here. i rustle in bed finding a comfy spot, and say what, i found dad lying next to me, what’s this all about?  surround sound music fills the room, a tune called Sunday by HNNY. so nice. sleeping in with dad on this quiet morning, rare, this is. well, not exactly sleeping in, dad is tapping on his keyboard. what you writing about dad? he mumbled something about an anne frank and her wanting to write, but more than that, to bring out all the things that lie buried deep in her heart. So I peak over, and he writes.

1,174 consecutive (almost) days, this morning’s daybreak walk to Cove Island Park. Like in Row.  Almost, the defining word this morning. I couldn’t find my way out. The streak, 1000 days, is long past, but the pull, the obligation, the call of duty, lurks. What is it that keeps me here?  (Sigrid Nunez, The Friend: A Novel) “When you’re lying in bed full of night thoughts,” she thinks…having a huge warm body pressed along the length of your spine is an amazing comfort.”  So Cove Island waits for another day, and I lay here, with Wally’s hot little body pressed against the mid point of my spine, with his soft little inhale and exhale keeping time, my time slows, it slows way down, and the edge of Worry melts away, and a little peace enters, a little Wally-peace that is.

dad, I don’t know who this anne frank is, but I like her very much.  happy sunday everyone. Wally.

 

Wally’s Great Adventures (76)

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hello friends, wally here with another update. mom’s coming back late tonight so I’m excited. dad is too i think because the dirty clothes are piling up, the bed hasn’t been made in a week, and the fridge only has ketchup mustard left. Dad and i have done nothing but look out the window and lay on the couch all day while it rains. come to think of it, that’s pretty much what we have done since mom left. so when the rain stopped and dad took me for a car ride, i was so excited to get out of the house. i thought that we were going to the Pet Store to get some toys, and wow was i wrong. dad took me to the park. It was so hot and humid, the trees were still dripping rain drops. when i go on walks with mom and don’t want to go, i just stop and mom carries me. there’s no messing with dad. he looks at me and says absolutely not, and i had better start moving my little a**. i dig my feet in as soon as we get out of the car and won’t move. dad did not look happy, he took me off leash, and started walking away in the woods. and he doesn’t even look back, like whoa dad, where are you going? then he looks back, and says there’s a giant black bear up here and he’ll eat me in one bite. so i have no choice but to run and catch up to dad. so between dad and his giant steps walking like its some olympic event, and bears stalking me, i’m close to hyperventilating. dad said that he’s never seen anything so out of shape, heaving like i’m going to have a heart attack. and because i was standing more than walking, mosquitos were ‘gnawing the shit out of him.” anyway, i hope i don’t have nightmares of bears chasing me. oh, by the way, my foot is all better. yeh! have a great sunday. Wally.

Wally’s Great Adventures (75)

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hello friends, wally here. mom’s gone on a road trip to visit her mom so its the boys home alone for a long weekend. dad and i have been having so much fun. no stupid long walks on hot pavement with mom. Pup cups every single day. dad even shared his steak sandwich with me, wow, that was good. anyway, Dad has been working on his computer all day – – he said he has to fix his blog because something broke and he had more than 20 posts IN SPANISH gibberish that went flying out to his friends. good thing mom wasn’t here, dad was cursing at his machine all day. oh, i also got a boo-boo on my foot, and dad had to put a giant band-aid on it. dad said it’s a good damn thing mom wasn’t here to see everything going to h*ll. that’s all for tonight friends. have a great weekend. Wally.

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Walking. With Luminous Detritus.

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73° F, and it’s 4:15 am. I’ve pulled into the Cove Island Park. 1,159 consecutive (almost) days on this morning walk. Like in a row. That’s right, it’s not a typo. And yes, it’s getting earlier and earlier, despite the sun rising later and later. Look at the Blog Mast. He can’t sleep.

It’s overcast. It’s humid. It’s hot, and this is 4:30 a.m.

I walk.

No, I’m not here this morning to bitch about the weather.

Or my lack of sleep. (A continuing & Growing problem.)

Or the trash that’s left behind all over the park by the growing number of visitors during the summer – SHAME ON YOU! You wouldn’t sh*t in your own house would you? Why here?

Oh no, I’m not going to go on that tirade again. No Sir. It absolutely did not cross my mind (again) to take an iron bar across the hand of the knuckles of the polluter(s). No, I did not think or say that.

Nope, it’s not about trash today, consciously or unconsciously left behind corrupting this walk, not that I needed all that much impetus.

And it did cross my mind, today being Sunday, maybe one should focus on all the good. And I did think deeply about that. On this quiet little walk in my little heaven… I walk a few hundred yards ruminating on that…hmmmm…F*ck that!

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Walking. With Wally & Yet More Great Adventures. (74)

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72° F, and it’s 4:20 am. I’ve pulled into the Cove Island Park parking lot. 1,155 consecutive (almost) days on this morning walk. Like in a row. That’s right, 1,155 days. It’s not a typo.

There’s one other lunatic’s car in the lot, and that’s likely a wee bit too harsh. It could be his neighbor drove him home last night after a few brewski’s. So, in this parking lot, at 4:20 a.m., let’s correct the math: Two cars and one lunatic.

The weather app has been flashing alerts for coastal flooding later in the morning, and the clouds are dark, swollen and ready to let go.

I don’t want to be here. But, I can’t sleep. So, I walk.

But let’s roll the tape back a bit.

The day actually started at 3 am. There’s heavy rustling on the bed. I don’t hear any of the preamble – – that is, Wally breathing heavily, Wally licking his chops, Susan scrambling to get Wally off the bed, off the sheets, off the comforter, over the carpet and onto the wood floor, and the Grand Finale, Wally ejecting a mound of puke, now compost from scat, shit, crap he shouldn’t have been eating from the back yard yesterday.

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