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Tuesday, October 21, 2014

for nothing but joy




The Dogs at Live Oak Beach, Santa Cruz

by Alicia Ostriker

As if there could be a world
Of absolute innocence
In which we forget ourselves

The owners throw sticks
And half-bald tennis balls
Toward the surf
And the happy dogs leap after them
As if catapulted—

Black dogs, tan dogs,
Tubes of glorious muscle—

Pursuing pleasure
More than obedience
They race, skid to a halt in the wet sand,
Sometimes they'll plunge straight into
The foaming breakers

Like diving birds, letting the green turbulence
Toss them, until they snap and sink

Teeth into floating wood
Then bound back to their owners
Shining wet, with passionate speed
For nothing,
For absolutely nothing but joy.


{more by Ostriker}




There was that foggy day last week you might remember. It didn't wait for me though - by the time I reached the entrance to the field it had burned off. But here are a few shots of it off in the distance, along the highway, along the tree line. 








And then it was gone and we were in the field. The sun had come out in the east, but toward the west, clouds. This made for a rather eerie lighting effect.








We've been staying out of the field for quite some time, and others have too. But lately I've noticed the path is worn again, and people are going in. Rumour has it that the coyote family has moved on. But who knows, perhaps they'll be back when the snow flies.






Ace races around, nose to the ground, hunting, for what I know not. It's pure joy though, for him, you can tell.














He's damp from all the morning dew. Still willing to pose a little for a biscuit.





It's good therapy, always, watching Ace bound through the grass, his experience, pure joy. As I often say, he's my personal trainer and my mental health practitioner. Worth his weight in gold.



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