A Colonoscopy; and George the Dog

I see that George Bush got reamed yesterday. His turn. He has been reaming the rest of the world these past few years. They found five polyps up there. Bill Maher expressed surprise, in his comedy act last night, that they didn't find his head--since that, Maher surmised, is where Bush must have been keeping it. Oh, and how about that Cheney, taking the reins of power for more than two hours while Bush was under anesthesia? Scary.

But anyway, it was another George I set out to write about this morning. Our George. George the dog. We took him out for an early walk along the beach. They don't allow dogs on the beach here between the hours of eight a.m. and sunset, from Memorial Day through mid-September. I guess they're afraid the dogs will take over the beaches, drive the tourists off. So if George wants to go to the beach, it has to be early morning. And on a leash. Dogs are never allowed off leash on the beaches here, not matter what time of day or what time of the year. We have seen cops stationed with binoculars on the cliff tops, if you can believe it, scanning the beach for offenders so that they can write them hundred dollar tickets. Who knows why they spend their time this way. Though I suppose one dog off leash could spoil it for the others. One bite...

Anyway, the beach with a ball is George's absolute all-time favorite thing. Unfortunately for him, we have to keep him tethered on a long line when we throw the ball--though sometimes, when things seem quiet and we don't see the glint of binoculars on the cliff top, I'll admit we cheat. We take him down to the far corner of the beach and let him off the leash. He loves that. Absolutely loves it. George is ball crazy. In fact, he's so ball crazy that he gets hysterical already when he see us take the long-line leash down from its hook by the door. He's that smart. And then he drags us all the way down the hill in his desperation. Or, if we drive down, as we sometimes do if the eight o'clock curfew hour is imminent, he drives uscrazy with his hysterical barking when we park the car.

Which is how it was yesterday. But he did have a great time on the beach, and came home sandy, salty, bedraggled, and in need of a bath. He didn't get one yesterday, but this morning... Well, the marine layer of cloud has lifted early and the sun is shining. And our sangha will be sitting later in the day because this is the once-a-month Sunday when our teacher, Than Geoff, comes to join us. That's Thanissaro Bhikku. We're lucky to have such a distinguished teacher on a regular basis, and we value his monthly visits. For a variety of reasons, Ellie and I have missed his sessions. Travel. Needing to stay in town... Today we have no excuses--for George's bath or for Than Geoff. More later... Have a great Sunday.