Enya Says....

Enya Says

2/9/16

You should know the only time I take pen to paw is after I arrive in Tubac.   The sun is soothing here and helps percolate my Bostie brain, generating thoughts outside my essential Montana demeanor.  Lately, I’ve been doing some light reading about that thing called the bell shaped curve. From my station at the old water cooler, these days, it seems more people hang on one side or the other as opposed to the middle. I don't know what this means? This is offered as something for you to think about in this election year. Moving along, I am compelled to tell you that the trip to Tubac was tough. Hey, I’ve read the book: “A tough trip to Tubac.” I knew the roads were difficult because I could smell the tension seeping from Annie and what’s his name. Clarko gives it up when he’s under the gun. We canines are alert to the odor of anxiety. It causes us to pay attention.  Arriving Tubac I was exhausted. My people were as well.

Arrival at the villa, as they call it, did not go well. I had to sit my butt in the truck, as things called keys, water, heat and lights were determined. I was hungry and had to pee really badly. Possibly some of you think I should know better as I’m a seasoned traveler but I have to tell you I was at the end of my rope…no pun intended. Heck, we had to use flashlights to get into the place.

We’ve been here over a week by now.  I remember this spot, old Villa # 7. I left some of my personal scent here last year and am proud to report I’ve rediscovered myself. How I savor my own fragrance. So far, I’ve been on walks along the Anza Trail and a few of the paths along the Golf Course. The snacks have been acceptable and I’m on the lookout for the Javalena as they camp out in our back yard. Many of you may not know this, but these beasts actually belong to the rodent family. I knew this before reading it as fact in a local magazine. They smell like a rat, not a piggy and I don’t trust them. I suspect they would eat me if given opportunity. 

My counterpart next door is Ava (as in Gardner). She’s a talker and also dwarfs me in the physical sense and although she may have been married to Frank Sinatra in another life, I’m certain I’m her intellectual superior. Before we return to Montana, she’ll be taking orders from me. “Hey Ava, get me a margarita, darling. Gracias.”  I like it here. You would as well. Most of my friends and the people we meet are nice and just want to read a book, loosen up the arthritis, and go home with a tan.  Happy trails!  Enya