80 Minutes of Sun, Sky, Dog and Tiny Pony

I have a friend, also an artist, who lives on Cape Cod. Every day, she spends an hour or two on the beach, day in, day out. She posts photos on her Instagram feed. I like every one of them. When I think of Mary, I think of her on the beach. I love that she gives herself and her followers this gift of going to the beach with her, if only in our minds.

It's not that hard to do, to take a little time for ourselves. I work like a demon all day, saving the gift of beauty for a couple of hours in the afternoon before I pick Liam up at the bus. I work toward it. It's my carrot, my ice cream. I look at my watch and say, OK. I can run 40 minutes out, and 40 minutes back.

I pick a beautiful dirt road, drive well past the German shepherd who'd happily shred cheeky Chet Baker, park and off we go. Oh, what Chet and I can do with those 80 minutes in the sun!

We visit Nostrils and the minidonks. I don't know their real names, but that's OK. Nostrils just got a fabulous hair and tail cut. She also got her hooves done. She looks so cute with short bangs I can hardly stand it. Soon it will be a year since I discovered these sweet little animals. They are a major destination for me and Chet.

I love the way the sun plays on her Chincoteaguey hide. Here is an earlier photo of her right after her grooming session. She is about the cutest thing I have ever seen.

 I don't know if Nostrils is a mini-horse or a tiny pony, but she's about the right size for a squirrel monkey to ride. 

 

She's become so much friendlier since I can reach over the tiny electric fence to pet her.

 Why do I call her Nostrils, you ask?

That horsie. She kills me. This is for Em. Em, here is a big kiss from a tiny tiny horse. Once or twice I have managed to smooch her right on the velour. A very loud smooch. This is perhaps why she doesn't come close any more. Maybe. Next time I'm putting some carrots in my pockets. If I have to buy her kisses, I will. She's that sweet.

 The minidonks are friendlier, though. They adore me and hurry up to get kisses. Their muzzles are 100% velvet.

When you pat them great clouds of yellow dust rise out of their long hair. Whew, what a mess minidonks are, always rolling in the mud. Nostrils isn't much better about that.

Speaking of electric fences, Chet Baker wanted a closer smell at the minidonks and ducked under the innocuous looking wire last week. I called him right back out.

"That is an ELECTRIC fence, Chet Baker, and if you hit that wire you will be VERY sorry. Not only that, but those minidonks might just plant a hoof in your ribs. You do not know them. You stay on THIS SIDE. (This Side is a command he knows very well from 5 years of road running. THIS SIDE Chet Baker. And he crosses immediately.).

I went on petting the animules and by and by I heard a BAROWMP?? from Chet Baker. Who had sneaked back under the fence a little ways back down the road and gotten himself zapped. I couldn't help but chuckle. He was all doubled up and bug-eyed. "I TOLD YOU you'd get zapped, Chet Baker!!"

Now he was in a terrible dilemma. That hot wire was between him and Mether! He ran toward me, on the wrong side of the fence.

"Oh Bacon just duck back under, and give yourself plenty of clearance. I hope you've learned your lesson!"
He stood there hunch-backed for a few seconds, then pasted his ears back and dove under the wire. Safe with Mether. He had to sit on my lap for a little while and get a long, tight hug until he stopped trembling.

Now when we park and start our run on that road he sits in the car and has to be told to get out and come along.
I laugh and laugh. "You are NOT going to get a complex about this road. It is one of my favorite roads and you are coming along!"

 

  So this is what he does while I pet the critters now. He stands on the far side of the road, looking away. He will not even look at the horses and minidonks. I think he thinks they have something to do with the zapping.

As soon as we're past the grave danger of the zapfence, he's happy-go-lucky Chet again.

 

Really, this November. I cannot remember a November so beautiful, so mild, so glorious. We've had one hard frost and the rest haven't been enough to kill all the zinnias and morning glories. I still have flowers blooming in the yard. Sigh. It's so, so beautiful. Well do I know what most Ohio Valley Novembers are like. So I'm rolling around in this one.

And so is The Bacon. What a lucky doggeh he is, to have places like this to run free as a bird, every single day. What a lucky dog I am, to be able to do this, too.