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Chet Baker, Action Hero

Sunday, April 1, 2007

Yes, it's time to break out the acoustic clothes dryer.

I tried to work today, I really did. But the sun was hot, the air pellucid, and the garden was shouting to me. I could feel the weeds growing. I had to get out there and do it. See, it's past time to plant peas in southern Ohio; the thrasher's been in for two weeks and I haven't gotten them planted yet. So I cranked all day, forking and weeding, then burning. I'm all stove up now. Peas still aren't planted but they will be soon.
Afterward, I collapsed in a newly-hauled-out lawnchair and shot photos of Phoebe and Liam playing with Chet. Gotta love Phoebe's Daisy Mae outfit. I can't tell you how much fun I had, leading him with the camera, letting ISO 200 freeze him in his tracks. The background's a bit blurry when I'm panning, but that adds to the excitement of the shot.
Sometimes the stars align and you get everything in focus. When he's coming right at me, I can brace myself and not have to pan... I think this is my favorite of the bunch. I crowed like a rooster when I saw this one.
The kids were running back and forth across the lawn to see what I'd gotten, and Chet was in his element: the center of attention, leaping, running, growling, play-bowing. I never tire of watching him play with the kids. They tussle like brothers and sisters. Chet is much sassier with them than he dares to be with me; they holler and plead with him, but I have only to say his name in a warning tone and the ears flatten and the googly eyes cut over my way. It's pretty clear who the alpha beyotch is in this pack.
What a joy a well-bred, healthy young dog is. A joy to look at, to touch and to be with. Chet kept me company all day out under the sun, and was ready to rock when the kids got home.
Yesterday the Fed-ex driver, the one who always gives Chet two Milk Bones to bury, asked me how much a Boston terrier should cost. I got a big old grin. He's not the first person who's gotten to know Baker and then thought seriously about adding a Tennessee Turd-tail to his family. I laughed and told him my hidden agenda is to cover the earth in well-bred Bostons, and to let me know when he was serious about it. Mr. Milk-Bone, If you do get a puppeh, will you bring it by here, please? I would like to look it over, and perhaps sniff inside of its ears.
Just so you know: By posting about Chet Baker, I am in no way caving to pressure from Non Birding Bill, JaneyMS or any of his or her minions. It was time to post about Chet Baker. My artistic integrity emerges unpunctured.


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