I wish I had a dog-walking route half as lovely as that! All I got this evening was a walk to the auto mechanic’s to pick up my winter rustbucket Subaru. In the blowing snow.
I’m dog-sitting a little cockapoo named Artie until Sunday. He’s generally a delight—very sweet and lap-doggish. But the little fucker overturned the garbage can while I was at work today.
Also, the cats are upstairs brooding resentfully about An Interloper in the house. They haven’t come down in a day and a half. So I took their food, water, and litter upstairs.
Nope, it’s a pic of a dog his principle humans were out walking on the beach. I’m his backup human – so it might as well be me, in a way. But he’s in California for the winter.
It’s hours from any cities, and I always find that that makes me restless before long…despite its proximity to very nice towns.
I just love the beaches on the West Coast. How funny that you find them claustrophobic not because of the tight walls around you but because of the seemingly endless space between you and civilization.
Trebuchetsays
Claustrophobic? Could you perhaps mean “agoraphobic”?
Claire Ramseysays
I know precisely what you mean about “claustrophobic” at a beach with all that open space and all of that ocean penning you in. I always chide myself for not spending more time at the beach and for not adoring it more, absorbing all of the beachy vibes and the beauty and the roaring sound (and the wind, sand, biting insects, cigarette butts. . .) But I can only appreciate it for tiny moments, then I start looking around for some action. Our dogs could not figure out what to do when we took them to the beach dog park, poor things. They patiently waited at our feet so they could run back and get in the car and curl up in the caves they make from their blankets. Still one can see that Cooper loves it.
Aratina, well I do love the beaches on the West Coast, including the one in this picture (which, in case anyone is curious, is on the Monterey Peninsula, at Spanish Bay, just west of Pacific Grove and Asilomar). But it’s what Claire says – I’m overall looking around for some action. It’s not literally claustrophobia on the beach itself, but claustrophobia living far outside a city.
Another thing about the beaches is that they’re best at the fringes of the day – dawn and sunset. They kind of bore me at mid-day.
Its like you read my mind! You appear to know a lot about this, like you wrote the book in it or something. I think that you could do with a few pics to drive the message home a bit, but instead of that, this is magnificent blog. A fantastic read. I will certainly be back.
You can see him if you click on it.
I wish I had a dog-walking route half as lovely as that! All I got this evening was a walk to the auto mechanic’s to pick up my winter rustbucket Subaru. In the blowing snow.
I’m dog-sitting a little cockapoo named Artie until Sunday. He’s generally a delight—very sweet and lap-doggish. But the little fucker overturned the garbage can while I was at work today.
Also, the cats are upstairs brooding resentfully about An Interloper in the house. They haven’t come down in a day and a half. So I took their food, water, and litter upstairs.
Heh, you and me both. That’s not my dog walking route, except when I’m occasionally there for the dog.
But the trouble is, you get claustrophobic quickly, at least I do. I seem to need to live in a city.
Wait, so that’s not a pic of a dog you were out walking on the beach?
And I don’t get the thing about claustrophobia?
Nope, it’s a pic of a dog his principle humans were out walking on the beach. I’m his backup human – so it might as well be me, in a way. But he’s in California for the winter.
It’s hours from any cities, and I always find that that makes me restless before long…despite its proximity to very nice towns.
I just love the beaches on the West Coast. How funny that you find them claustrophobic not because of the tight walls around you but because of the seemingly endless space between you and civilization.
Claustrophobic? Could you perhaps mean “agoraphobic”?
I know precisely what you mean about “claustrophobic” at a beach with all that open space and all of that ocean penning you in. I always chide myself for not spending more time at the beach and for not adoring it more, absorbing all of the beachy vibes and the beauty and the roaring sound (and the wind, sand, biting insects, cigarette butts. . .) But I can only appreciate it for tiny moments, then I start looking around for some action. Our dogs could not figure out what to do when we took them to the beach dog park, poor things. They patiently waited at our feet so they could run back and get in the car and curl up in the caves they make from their blankets. Still one can see that Cooper loves it.
Aratina, well I do love the beaches on the West Coast, including the one in this picture (which, in case anyone is curious, is on the Monterey Peninsula, at Spanish Bay, just west of Pacific Grove and Asilomar). But it’s what Claire says – I’m overall looking around for some action. It’s not literally claustrophobia on the beach itself, but claustrophobia living far outside a city.
Another thing about the beaches is that they’re best at the fringes of the day – dawn and sunset. They kind of bore me at mid-day.
Its like you read my mind! You appear to know a lot about this, like you wrote the book in it or something. I think that you could do with a few pics to drive the message home a bit, but instead of that, this is magnificent blog. A fantastic read. I will certainly be back.