This is Sparky. I call him the “The Poppy Field Master”. Sparky is such a beautiful dog. He looks so regal. His black fur glistens from the refection off the golden poppies. He is quite a character. He follows me around during the day occasionally stopping me dead in my tracts. He will not move until I say, “Excuse me”. I am on a short lease, so to speak. He is in control; I am not. All he has to do is step on the leash (the oxygen cord) and I am toast! Being stubborn does not help, I must speak on his command–or die because when he steps on the cord, the air stops too! He is too big to pick up and move. If I try, he just looks up like Eeyore (Poo’s donkey friend) as if to say with his expression, “Do I have to?” It is so much easier to just relent and say, “Excuse Me!” He moves and only then. You just got to love him.
I dreamt of vine ripe tomatoes, so I planted a pot garden this year.
I love tomatoes and so does Sparky. Perhaps, Sparky loves them a little too much. As soon as the tomatoes start to turn red, it is a fight to get them before he does. It is my fault he loves them so much. I give them to him in exchange for tricks, a trick for treat. On taller vines, I thought, “I will succeed.” That was until a big black crow dove down and plucked a tomato from the vine. Sparky let him do it! Dogs are watch dogs. Right? Sparky is literally a watch dog. He watched. He didn’t even bark! Each of us has our fears. I think Sparky fears those crows, because he goes the other way when they coame near.