Paradise, Lost

11 08 2009

Beautiful and clear today on Lake Como, but the radio on the bar by the pool suggested clouds for the rest of the week.

Thunder, lightening, rain.  Time to head for home.

We used the rest of the afternoon to pack up: my lambskin, my ball, my chew-toy and a marrow bone I picked up via the waiter at dinner last night.

A last swim in the lake; a final patrol of the manicured gardens; one more chase of the hotel cat.

Drinks on the terrazzo (more Martini olives, garlic stuffed this time) under a waning moon.

Tomorrow we begin the dreary ride home, nodding off to the sway of wipers across the windshield.

Paradise, lost.



18 07 2009

I love cameras.  Especially the new, digital ones.  If i don’t look good the first time, it can all be erased, just like kicking up a little grass over the morning do, so to speak.

The Contessa, Count and I are making a ton of photos on our trip.  Mostly of me, I might add, against different backdrops.

Nice to be so adored, no?

If I didn’t love road trips so much, I might suggest we simply stay home and use the best picture of me in coordination with Photoshop: the beach, the plane, the train, the mountains, etc.  You get my meaning.

But I DO love road trips.  Emphasis on “road”.  I am not a fan of ferries, though I DO like those cool little fairy-like fireflies along the coast.  Note the difference in spelling–but that’s another story.

We left Rome as you know, at rush hour.  We arrived at a small Bed and Breakfast which, to me, is the ultimate decsriptor for any dog.   and

Really, what could be more perfect?

Next day we were off again, windows down, ears singing in the wind.  We stopped for lunch at a little roadside trattoria: pasta with fresh tomatoes, basil and mozzarella.  Heaven.  A bowl of mountain water and a piddle and back to the car.

Napping in the back seat cannot be touted enough.  Fine leather upholstery covered by my favorite traveling sheepskin and comfort aids , fresh air streaming through the open windows, whiskers gently bending in the breeze.  Ahhhhh.

I awoke to the scent of garlic and some sort of unfortunate sea creature being grilled in the distance.  Bags out of the car, a leisurely aperativo on the patio bar ensued .  A little prosecco in my bowl.

View from our room:

View IN our room:

I ask you: Which is the better vista?

Splendido, indeed.  No confusion here.


The Drive at Five

9 07 2009

Never get into a car when the sun is near the western horizon.  Overhead: OK.  Set: absolutely.  But to drive at rush hour is madness.  morning rush hour in Rome by ecormany

First of all, there is no possibility for a breeze across the snout because the car is not moving.  The only thing to waft through the nostrils is cigarette smoke from the driver sitting in the car a meter to the left.ROME by ITALYPICS

The din of fifty radios blares through the ether.  It’s hot; it’s stale; it’s boring. by jennilorenbandit

By the time the outskirts of the city are reached, it’s dark, so there is nothing to see along the road.  The mosquitoes are out so the snout stays firmly pressed up against the closed window.

The definition of longing. Longing by DenisGiles

No, to be worth the trouble at all, road trips must begin in the morning just after nine.  Windows down, traffic thinned–nostrils full forward in the breeze under a pair of flapping ears.Did you ever notice when you blow in a dog's face he gets mad at you?  But when you take him in a car he sticks his head out the window.  (26~52) by DoodlesNPoodles - on intermittently

Hegemony, take note.


On The Road

2 07 2009

Road trip beginning today.

Stay tuned.

Back next week with plenty of “Nose-Out-Of-The-Window” details…

Dogs Out The Window by Travis Atwood


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