Friday, June 27, 2008
Coyote in the City
Lately he's coming out earlier and is sometimes even out in the morning. I'm getting a little concerned for him because he's getting very used to people--that line you see in the foreground is a bike path.
But it sure is cool to get to watch him run and play. At dusk he seems to be chasing moths and will jump straight up in the air to catch one. I'm going to try to get that on video but I make no promises. I tried tonight and have a zillion mosquito bites to show for my effort.
Isn't it amazing when you find a bit of the wild in the heart of the city?
Oh yeah, in case you're wondering, Shandy and Bandit bark like maniacs when they see him (or do they smell him?) At any rate, they let him know he's on their territory. He is unfazed by them and continues to go about his business, which I assume includes eating a lot of rabbits because, like last year with the family of foxes, we've seen absolutely no rabbits this year. Very unusual.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Spaaaa Photos
Friday, June 20, 2008
Our Little Sit Stay Spa Helper
SSR Dog Team, Andrea Marino and chihuahua, Charley, joined us in the office yesterday to help assemble the goodie bags for Sit Stay Spa. That's SSR staffer Jenn Dohm looking shocked to see her littlest helper sitting down on the job.
Many thanks to Andrea, Charley, Fiona, and Laurel for lending a hand!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Shandy in Clover
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Meet our Newest Dog Teams
Sit Stay Read Dog Team Tests |
Twelve new Dog Teams were certified at Sit Stay Read tests at The Anti-Cruelty Society this month!
On June 4th Blue, Diamond, Hobbes, Nala, Oscar, Piper, Pudge Bear, and Saffie earned their bandannas. While June 10th it was Ginger, Mia, Petey, and Sugar's turn. Click on the photo above to view the whole album.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Poem of the Month--Beach Glass
Beach Glass
By Amy Clampitt
While you walk the water's edge,
turning over concepts
I can't envision, the honking buoy
serves notice that at any time
the wind may change,
the reef-bell clatters
its treble monotone, deaf as Cassandra
to any note but warning. The ocean,
cumbered by no business more urgent
than keeping open old accounts
that never balanced,
goes on shuffling its millenniums
of quartz, granite, and basalt.
It behaves
toward the permutations of novelty—
driftwood and shipwreck, last night's
beer cans, spilt oil, the coughed-up
residue of plastic—with random
impartiality, playing catch or tag
or touch-last like a terrier,
turning the same thing over and over,
over and over. For the ocean, nothing
is beneath consideration.
The houses
of so many mussels and periwinkles
have been abandoned here, it's hopeless
to know which to salvage. Instead
I keep a lookout for beach glass—
amber of Budweiser, chrysoprase
of Almaden and Gallo, lapis
by way of (no getting around it,
I'm afraid) Phillips'
Milk of Magnesia, with now and then a rare
translucent turquoise or blurred amethyst
of no known origin.
The process
goes on forever: they come from sand,
they go back to gravel,
along with the treasuries
of Murano, the buttressed
astonishments of Chartres,
which even now are readying
for being turned over and over as gravely
and gradually as an intellect
engaged in the hazardous
redefinition of structures
no one has yet looked at.