Odds and Ends

Twilight comes to the campground, and the changing light deepens the red in surrounding rocks, and turns tan rocks golden.

Four grannies, who are from an RV parked at the end of the tent row, strut the periphery of the campground, pulled forward by chihuahuas. The four dogs run their legs in a blur, aiming to stay ahead of the women. Two bosomy grannies walk on the outside, waving and smiling at people sitting at picnic tables.

“Nice evening,” a granny calls, and “Hello, how are you?” I suspect the women would like folks to notice their dogs.

“Cute dogs,” I say as the parade passes.

“This one, he's a mess,” one granny replies, and bends over to touch the dog.

Another granny points to her dog. “I've had her 11 years.”

Another says of her dog, “He's having the time of his life.”

“I can see that.”

Later, the temperature is ideal for sleeping. My dogs have crashed, tired from a long walk on the desert, but I don't sleep because of incessant yapping. I wonder if it's the chihuahua whose owner admits he's a mess. Or maybe the crew of chihuahuas takes turns, to make sure it's never quiet. Why don't the grannies notice the yapping? Too many pina coladas? Or did they turn their hearing aids off at bedtime?



A nice-looking middle-aged couple stops at the table where I am sitting in a book store. The man picks up a book and studies the handsome Border collie on the cover.

“I suppose I should buy this for my wife. She likes our dog better than me.”

The woman smiles.

“She believes the dog is superior,” the man says while I'm signing a book for his wife.

I suggest, “There's probably something you do better than the dog.”

“Of course! I'm a better conversationalist.”

The couple walks off. The woman turns around and behind the man's back mouths the words, "He's really not.”