Molly

  Every day could have a novel written about it, so I've left lots out while hitting the blog in a desultory fashion.  For instance, I haven't mentioned Mark's dog.

  Molly is some kind of Portuguese hound.  Hair, not fur, fairly ugly, like a blond big sister of Toto.  She's standoffish and feisty- likes to bark out the front window at walkers on the road.  When we first got here she walked around you like you were furniture, without a look.  She rides a box on his motorcycle the couple miles to work, goes everywhere and is included in all activities though often she goes upstairs and sleeps without being in on the people stuff just fine.

  But she's quite the personality, just very private and dignified.  I like watching dogs and being around them, so I kept working her- back of the hand to sniff, saying her name, stepping out of her way and with a little fingertip scratching in all the good places as she would allow.  Finally last night she jumped in my lap.  Mark says that's a first for anyone but him because she's a one-man dog.

  When we camped on the beach a couple days back she was along, with Celeste, Sergi's Beagle.  She and Celeste tolerate each other, with a little display now and then to maintain personal space.  She was still giving the Redhead and I sceptical looks when she would look our way at all.  After midnight sometime I got up to pee and flip the ends of the campfire back on themselves.  When I flipped the first log I heard a low growl from Marks tent ten yards away.  Molly.  Guarding the fort.

  We loaded up in the high tide off a rock near the house.  Active people and crowded trail with the four of us holding the boat, loading the gear, getting off the land as quick as possible.  Molly held up at the trailhead on the edge of the road to stay free of the ruckus.  She's committed to Mark, but the rest of the mob are to be ignored.  Mark was calling her down and she balked at the trail full of flashing strangers feet, gear, activity.  I reached down to pick her up and she mouthed me-closing her teeth on my hand but not biting down.  Just the proper response for a dog that wouldn't be mauled by fools.  I didn't startle but I didn't pick her up either, releasing and stepping back.  Mark called her down and she loaded into the boat.

  Fun to be around a dignified dog.  Adds a lot to the home life.  We did a couple of errands at his business and she followed us downstairs as we left.  She's warmed up, but as I said I like dogs.  I'm sure she can tell.