If you ever want to meet an interesting assortment of dogs and cats, you need to stop by Misti's house. Every one of her pets is a cast off. Most of them limp, some of them are blind or deaf, a lot of them are so ugly they're cute. One of them's so ugly it's just downright ugly! You think I'm lying?




This is Saber, your average green-eyed tabby cat. Well....



except for his fangs!

Here's Suzy, she's a Chinese Crested Dog and was bred to look like this. Truth.



Next in the line up is Abigail, proof it's a bad idea to breed a dog like Suzy with a Dachshund! Every day is a bad hair day for Abigail and she has warts.




The kitty below is so pretty. Her ankles grew in crooked but what the heck, what she don't know won't hurt her!




This next guy, is smiling because it's his turn to hold the leash. 



His name is Bosworth. He has a genetic skin condition that makes his hair fall out, he's allergic to corn, and his eyelid hang down so far they block his vision. Does he care? Not at all! He's too busy making people laugh to bother with minor details.

As you can probably tell, I admire Misti no end and think she's a wonderful person for giving a home to this motley crew. 

I assume I don't have to spell out the moral of this story, do I?  Good. Because there are more than these guys living with Misti and I was afraid I'd have to go take more pictures.




Thanks for listening. 

If you've read this blog, you know I'm involved in getting an animal shelter built in my adopted home in northeast Tennessee. Since I'm the PR person for the shelter I take lots of pictures of our progress but I've never known what to do with them. Well along came my brother, Peter, with "It's Raining Cats and Dogs," a song he wrote especially for the shelter. I combined it with the pics and, ta-da, we have a video!

The story line is simple. Shelter volunteers are busy raising money and building the shelter. Funding for this project is entirely from donations and fundraisers and, whoo-buddy, it's a lot of work! Glad thing we love what we're doing!

There is a cameo appearance in the video by the PAL Mobile, a low-cost mobile spay neuter clinic hosted by the shelter each month. The PAL Mobile has spayed and neutered over 300 dogs and cats since they started coming to town a year ago. Let's hear it for the PAL Mobile and the 300 people who've had their pets fixed!

On a final note, most of the animals in the video are strays I've met in my travels on the country road. Every one of them is now in a happy home.

So, grab some popcorn, take a seat, and prepare yourself to be astounded by excellence in cinematography.

Shhh, it's starting (um, as soon as you click on the arrow).

Getting lost by one's self sucks. Getting lost with a friend is an adventure. That's what my friend Ann and I decided when we took a wrong turn today and ended up who-knows-where. So we decided to keep going.

We stopped to admire this pretty barn and listen to the leaves rattle in the warm breeze.

 
 
A peaceful spot except for the crows bickering up in those trees.   

Those little white boxes under the bushes are beehives. Shhh, listen, what's that buzzing?



And so it went. It seemed we had found a perfect place to spend an autumn day. The road curved and dipped then plunged us into a shadowy hollow.  Bright, cheery farms gave way to dark Kudzu covered hovels. The feeling of "ain't we lucky" was quickly replaced with unease.  We slowed down to gawk at a decrepit log cabin. Rusty cars, a dead tractor, and piles of trash decorated the yard and surrounding grounds. A tall, skinny man with a long black beard and a face caved in around a toothless mouth, stepped into the road waving a large stick.  Ann hit the gas and swung around him.  I dropped my camera.

Can you hear the banjoes dueling?

The time had come to find our way out of there. As we sped past ratty trailers and dilapidated shacks plastered with "No Trespassing" signs, we left off exclaiming over the day and took verbal inventory of the weapons we had on hand. If the need arose we wanted to be certain we could defend ourselves from the denizens of the back hills. (It turned out we were quite well armed. But still...)

As quickly as we had entered the scary hollow we left it behind. We rounded a corner and dead ended at this lovely stand of trees.


We backed into a driveway to turn around. When I leaned out of the car to take a picture, a voice that sounded like Johnny Cash imitating a woman with bronchitis shouted, "Waddaya think yer doin'?" Three people stepped off the shadowed porch of a double-wide trailer and hurried toward the car. Uh-oh. We were so outta there!

These cows ignored us. Did you hear my sigh of relief?




Around the bend I pointed my camera and gushed, "What a darling donkey!" 
 " What an ass," he muttered under his breath.



A  moment later we drove up a hill then down again and we were back in town.  And that, my friend,  is it. 





 

 After days of rain and fog and yuck, I am slowly losing my mind. The proof is that I would bother to post this short and poorly made video of Jack harassing Frannie, Frannie giving Jack the paw, and Cody looking bumfuzzled.  

Shoot! Did I give away the plot?

I'm cleaning out my garage and I don't know what to do with this head.



Her name is Donnez Moi. She was made in the late 1800's, out of wax, and has human hair. She's too cool to send to the animal shelter rummage sale where the rest of my stuff is going. But what to do with her?

She's not one of my Prized Possessions. She defaulted into my life several years ago and has been sitting on top of the refrigerator in my garage ever since. She's kind of neat in an eerie way. I wonder what she's worth? Maybe I can sell her and donate the proceeds to the animal shelter.

Seeking inspiration, I Google Mario's Mannequins in Detroit. I know Mario closed his doors years ago so I have no clue why I'm bothering with this fool's errand. Fate steps in and smacks me upside the head - recognize anyone in the lower left corner of this page? 

The randomness of this discovery makes my head spin. I quickly send an email to the photographer, Patty Izzo, babbling about the whys and the wherefores of my discovery, and the interestingness of synchronicity. She sends a nice email back and in a post script inquires about the selling price of the head.

What-is-she-thinking? I can't sell this head to her, it wouldn't be right! I respond and ask her to take Donnez Moi as a gift from a stranger. 

Patty has accepted my gift and, in return, is donating one of her prints, Fire and Ash,  to benefit the animal shelter.

Isn't that a happy ending to a dull garage cleaning story?

I have tried so very hard to snare three children's writers in my web and force them into my home.  Yes, this very home, with plenty of bedrooms and bathrooms and three dogs.

But these friends are a crafty bunch and have thus far managed to elude me. They are indifferent to my allusion that different porches provide different points of view...

 And so I sit alone. Well, almost. This guy hangs with me...


 
 But all he wants to do is eat bugs. 

Darn.

 

Earlier this week it rained and rained and rained. I stayed holed up inside my hacienda for two days reading and enjoying the solitude. When I headed out into patchy fog on Tuesday morning I was running late.

My driveway had fresh six-inch deep ruts from the rain. I wrestled with the steering wheel one-handed as I applied my Burt's Bees lip gloss and checked my appearance in the rear view mirror. When I glanced up I saw it.  

Looming.

I flinched, slammed on the brakes, and heard it go splat against the windshield.  No, it was not a bird, or a deer or any of the other creatures that are at risk when I leave my house in a hurry. It was this...



A  spider web that had been strung across the road like a wispy volley ball net.  I didn't have time to stop and brush it off. I sped away feeling guilty for destroying such a beautiful creation. I reached my destination and parked- in the searing sun - for hours - and  the fragile spiderweb hardened onto the glass as if it had been fired in a kiln. It won't come off. It's kind of neat, like a windshield tattoo.

As you probably guessed from the subject line of this blog, I am not at present on a country road in Tennessee. Instead I'm near the place I grew up,  a city thats name is synonymous with B-a-d. Yes, my friend, I talking about Detroit, Michigan.

It's not a place I'd visit if I didn't happen to be in the area; I mean, let's face it, the city has issues. But it also has lots of interesting, quirky places to go if you know where to find them... which I do. And that is why today I ventured into a neighborhood deep in the heart of Detroit that fell on hard times decades ago and never got up.

My parents and I set off to drop off bags of used clothing at the Capuchins, a group of Catholic Friars who give food, clothing, and solace to the beleaguered residents of the area. We make the journey several times a year and reward ourselves for our good deed by going to lunch in nearby Hamtramck, a city within The City that has the best Polish cooking this side of Krakow!

Today before heading off for our Polish Platters, we took a side trip take a look at  The Heidelberg Project , an inexplicable collection of stuff displayed on the street after which the project is named. Touted by some as urban art, ballyhooed by others as an eyesore, it's worth seeing whether you swoon over the artistic genius or scratch your head and say, "Huh?"  

I'm serious.

Well, as you probably can tell, it was a relief to leave the display behind and stumble down the steps of this place...

And discuss our opinions of the Heidleberg Project over steaming plates of kraut, Polish sausage, and mashed potatoes...



And sip from a frosted mug of Polish beer just like the guy sitting at that handsome bar is doing. Mmmmmmm.





 

I'd like you to meet Jack. He showed up on a neighbors' deck on the 4th of July, a four month old puppy in search of a home. He had on a raggedy blue collar with rhinestones, a belly full of worms, and was covered with big, fat, gross-beyond-belief ticks. (A friend and I spent 1.5 hours picking them off - GACK!) I checked with the few houses nearby and no one claimed him. He was no doubt dumped by someone who didn't want him anymore.

He's not much to look at but he's one of the cutest dogs I've ever met - and I've met plenty! Here he is the day after I got him.



I'm not sure what's so special about him. It's not just because he wears his ears at a jaunty angle.



Or that he looks like a fruit bat when he's upside down.




I think it's because he seems so happy to be alive. He's the kind of guy who considers everyone his friend, someone who makes me laugh and fits in wherever he goes. .



Well, almost. He went home with a woman for a trial adoption and was returned the next day for trying to chase cars while walking on a leash. Not good, but not the end of the world.

Okay, so maybe that's not his only flaw. He digs in the yard, torments toads, and eats bees but, hey, that's what puppies do. I thought everyone knew that but I guess they don't.

So, Jack's going to stay with us until he finds a home. If he doesn't, I guess he'll just keep on staying with us.



Yikes!

If it's too hot to hike up the Cumberland Mountains, then go inside - the mountain, that is. Believe me, a walk through a cave is cool in every sense of the word.

Two friends and I recently joined a Park Ranger, Scott, and some other folks on a cave tour in the Cumberland Gap National Historical Park located in Kentucky, Virginia, and Tennessee - all at the very same time! It was hot and humid as we hiked up the historical Wilderness Trail, blazed by Daniel Boone in 1775,  to the dark, yawning mouth of the Gap Cave, known by locals as Cudjo's Cave.

We paused along the way as Scott,  a marvelous story teller, took us on a journey through time to the days when early settlers struggled up the same path. We could almost hear the creak of the wagon wheels and feel sharp rocks biting into our bare feet as Scott described the pioneers' journey toward the only known pass-through in the Cumberland Mountains, the Cumberland Gap. 

You can see my buddies below, squinting into the sun with the Cumberland Gap in the background.


 

We didn't squint for long; were soon inside the cool, breezy, dark cave on a two hour tour that covered 1/4 of a mile of awesomeness!

A cave is not just a tunnel through some rocks. It's a living, moving, changing system of water, minerals, insects, and mammals (bats). We traded our tree-lined path for one lined with Stalagmites, which grow up from the floor (they might make it to the ceiling) and stalactites which hang down (and hang tight to the roof). They're formed when a drip of water runs off it, leaving a tiny deposit of mineral. It takes 100 years for one of these formations to grow an inch. (If a drip lands on you, you've been given a cave kiss.)

We moseyed along oohing and aahing, and stopping while Scott told us geological facts, spelunker news (the offshoot caves have been tracked - on hands and knees -  for 15 miles!) and regaled us with the legends and lore surrounding this beautiful cave.



In the early 1900's the cave was used as a sort of theme park with light bulbs strung from the ceilings, initials carved in the rock, and, of course, trash left behind. In the 1940's the locals fled the heat of the summer on Saturday night to a dance held in a large cavern inside the cave. All of that has changed. The cave is now part of the National Park system and treated with the reverence it deserves. In other words, it's allowed to just be.

My favorite part of the tour came as we crouch-walked through low hanging stalactites, up a slope, and around a bend to this...



A rippling, clear pond that seemed to possess magical cleansing powers. Alas, only newts and water bugs are allowed to test the waters.

A moment later, we came upon came to this...



The picture isn't very clear but it's a behemoth of a stalagmite over 200 feet tall! (Remember the one inch per 100 years?)

In this next picture, you can see the face of Cudjo, a runaway slave who hid in the cave, was discovered, and killed. To this day, his ghost walks the cave. It's true... Scott said so.



As you can probably tell, these pictures don't do a thing to capture the sheer magnificence of this cave. So, if you get a chance, pack up the family and head to Kentucky, Virginia, and Tennessee and check it out for yourself - you won't regret it!