A kinder, gentler morning

So I see today that I lost a follower.  It didn't appear to be anyone important (but since I don't keep a list it's hard to tell), so I don't know for sure if somebody was cleaning out their reading list and said, "who the hell is this?" or if it was because of yesterday's post, which probably sank my chances of ever being hired by the Food Network, the NBA, or the ACLU.  Either way, oh well.  I warned them to scroll down!

Anyway, in order to keep it in a lighter vein, I thought we'd do a picture post.  And since it is yet too warm to do an excursion of any real length  (before you call me a weenie, remember, "bright sunlight, black fur"), we thought we'd give you a neighborhood tour.

Neighbors apparently had really disgusting Chinese take-out last night.

Have I ever shown you our yard medallion?  It says- repeatedly- "Woof spoken here."

Scrappy in the car door.

That's the pool house, right across the street.  Never been swimming there.

The most important thing on any walk- the doggie bag dispenser.  I always have one baggy in my pocket, but I grab another.  Because, like his daddy, it's rarely a one-stop thing.

Speaking of daddy, there he is, resplendent in his sleeveless tie-dyed shirt.

The stream that splits our complex.  Upper left is where the dumpster floated to during the flood.

The doggie park- no one home right now.

The park down the street.  The hill in the center I named "s#!t hill"  our first winter here, because everybody used it for a doggie bathroom and nobody used a baggy.  BTW, a doggie baggy station is visible right beside the tree on the right. 

The Good Boy is trained to stop and wait at every crossing.

Sometimes sit, sometimes stand, as long as he stops.

From left to right, the office, the other pool (which I've never been in), the Mailbox (which I've never been in), and the tennis court (which I've never played on).

In lieu of the forbidden home grill, the complex supplies grills at strategic locations.

Tiger Lilies on the canal bank.

I sometimes take this back route behind the tennis court so's I don't have to use a second bag when Scrappy's #2 #2 hits.  Meanwhile, just out of the picture...

This is where the footbridge used to be.

Must.. examine... every... hole!

And here's yet another of the several times per walk I'll have to unwind myself...

We heard, "Churp! Churp!"  above us.  I guess it was Robin for, "Here! Take one of me!"

The crossing back home.

Scrappy just met the little guy.  Moments later the little guy was greeted with a chorus of barks.